Our son gave us a very thoughtful gift for Christmas. We have three sessions with a yoga instructor to help us get into better habits. The first one was focused on posture, and helped me to pay attention to ligaments that have been lulled into hibernation from disuse. She showed us pictures of slumped backs, juxtaposed with erect ones. 

So that is what I look like.

The awareness has percolated up to the surface every day since, nudging me to resist crossing my legs, and to imagine a string like a marionette tugging on the crown of my head. Old patterns are familiar, yet this new way of standing feels more spacious, as if my lungs are grateful for the chance to expand.

The teacher said that the muscles on the backs of our legs are powerful, designed for support. Yet we disable them, when we thrust our necks and shoulders and pelvis forward. The less qualified muscles in front take over, which are more easily strained.  

Two muscles, flanking our thighs. When one is engaged, the other backs off. One is well suited to holding us up, while the other does not have the endurance. 

There are patterns that have become familiar, even though they do not support relationships well. Pointing out another person's failings is one, and it seems cannot be engaged simultaneously with encouragement.

It is time to hold my words differently.