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Exploring the erector spinae, our relationship with gravity and the connection between physical and psychological experience.
Standing is something most of us do every day without giving it much thought. Yet the seemingly simple act of standing involves an extraordinary amount of muscular coordination, balance and continuous adjustment. In REbalance Yoga, we are interested in more than the mechanics of standing. We explore our experience of being upright, how we relate to gravity and what it means to find our own position in life. How do we stand in life? How do we face into life? And what happens when we become more aware of the muscular support that allows us to stand? The Erector Spinae: More Than a Single Muscle The erector spinae are a complex group of muscles extending along either side of the spinal column. Rather than being one individual muscle, they consist of three principal groups: the iliocostalis, longissimus and spinalis. Together, they form an extensive network with numerous attachments connecting the pelvis, sacrum, vertebrae and ribs, with portions extending into the neck and towards the skull. The erector spinae contribute to several important functions:
Working With Gravity Rather Than Against It We often think of standing upright as something that requires effort: pulling ourselves up, holding our shoulders back or maintaining a particular posture. Yet being upright does not necessarily require us to hold ourselves rigidly. Our muscles can provide support while allowing movement, adaptability and responsiveness. We might discover that we tend to collapse or hang into our structure, relying on relatively little active muscular support. Alternatively, we may work very hard to hold ourselves upright, creating more tension than we need. Neither observation tells us who someone is psychologically. Instead, these experiences can become starting points for curiosity. What happens when we engage the muscles of the back more consciously? Can we experience support without excessive effort? What changes when we allow ourselves to respond to gravity rather than constantly trying to resist it? Positioning: Our Stance Towards Life One of the inspirations for this exploration comes from the Bodynamic system of Body Psychotherapy, which considers the relationship between muscular development, psychological capacities and our experiences of ourselves in the world. Within this framework, the erector spinae are associated with the psychological function of Positioning, particularly our stance towards life. Positioning involves our capacity to find and maintain our own position, orient ourselves in relation to the world and respond from that position. It raises questions such as:
Exploring Positioning Through Yoga In REbalance Yoga, we bring these questions into our physical practice. We might begin by becoming aware of the erector spinae, exploring their attachments and noticing how they contribute to extension and support along the spine. We may experiment with different amounts of muscular engagement. What happens when we increase the activity of these muscles? What changes when we reduce the effort? Can we sense a relationship between the support of the back, the contact of our feet with the ground and the direction in which we orient ourselves? As we explore, we may become aware of changes in our breathing, energy, emotions or sense of ourselves. There is no particular response we are trying to create. The intention is to become curious about what is happening and to develop a greater range of possibilities. We are not trying to achieve one ideal posture or a particular psychological state. Instead, we are interested in developing awareness, adaptability and choice. How Do We Face Into Life? The exploration of Positioning can extend beyond the yoga mat. We might become curious about how we respond when something challenges us. Do we withdraw? Do we become rigid? Do we work harder than necessary to maintain our position? Or are there moments when we experience enough support to remain present, respond and make choices? Our responses vary according to our circumstances, resources and experiences. The intention is not to categorise these responses as right or wrong, but to become more aware of them. As we develop a richer experience of our muscular support, we may discover different ways of standing, moving and meeting what is in front of us. The Integration of Body and Psychological Experience This exploration sits at the heart of REbalance Yoga. We are interested in how anatomy, movement, psychological experience and choice are interconnected. Rather than approaching the body as something separate from who we are, we explore it as an integral expression of our experience, our relationships and our way of being in the world. Working with the erector spinae is therefore not simply an exercise in strengthening the back or improving posture. It can also become an opportunity to explore our experience of support, our relationship with gravity and how we stand in life. And perhaps, through this exploration, we discover new possibilities for how we face into life. Explore REbalance Yoga at EquilibriumOur approach to yoga brings together anatomical understanding, movement, breath awareness and curiosity about our individual experience. You can explore this approach through our regular yoga classes in Peterborough and Huntingdon, as well as our REbalance Yoga Teacher Trainings and professional development programmes. Explore our yoga classes
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At the beginning of September, we gathered in Huntingdon for six full days of the REbalance 300-Hour Yoga Teacher Training.
Eight experienced yoga teachers and therapists came together to explore the foundations of this work: yoga practice alongside body psychotherapy, nervous-system regulation, relationship, inner authority, and the therapeutic potential of working through the body. Over the course of the week, an image from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland kept returning to me: the White Rabbit in his waistcoat, anxiously checking his watch — always late, always rushing onwards. Many of us know something of that feeling. The sense that we need to catch up, get somewhere else, do things properly, or find an answer quickly. Even when we come to yoga, it can be easy to carry this urgency with us: trying to get the pose right, trying to improve, trying to move beyond what feels difficult. Yet much of the work over the six days was an invitation to pause. To notice what is actually happening within us before we move on. To attend to sensation, movement, impulse and breath. To listen for what feels true, what does not quite fit, and what pace is possible. Rather than forcing a resolution, we practised meeting experience with more attention, curiosity and choice. This is not about becoming passive or standing still. It is about developing the capacity to recognise when we are driven by old patterns of pressure, compliance, resistance or urgency — and to find a little more space for our own inner direction. Sometimes that may mean moving forward; at other times, it may mean slowing down, asking for support, or allowing ourselves to stay with what is here for a little longer. The yoga was central throughout: a way of exploring these themes not only through discussion, but through direct embodied experience. We worked with practice, movement, relational exploration and reflection, allowing the body to be part of the conversation. There was depth, courage, tenderness and plenty of laughter. I feel very grateful to everyone who brought themselves so wholeheartedly to the group, and to Natalia for assisting so beautifully. The REbalance 300-Hour Yoga Teacher Training brings together experienced yoga teachers and therapists for an in-depth exploration of the body, relationships, nervous-system regulation, and the therapeutic potential of yoga. The next Module 1 will take place in Huntingdon from Thursday 6 to Tuesday 11 May 2027. It can be taken as a standalone experience, or as part of the wider training pathway. Find out more at rebalanceyogatraining.co.uk. This month I’ve been reflecting on the poem The Guest House by Rumi — a beautiful reminder of the practice of acceptance: saying yes to what is here, even when it is uncomfortable, unexpected, or difficult.
The poem invites us that being human means continually meeting different inner experiences — joy, grief, fear, confusion, tenderness, hope — all arriving and passing through us like guests. Rather than resisting or rejecting these parts of ourselves, there is an invitation to welcome them with openness and presence, trusting that even the difficult moments may have something to teach us. Read The Guest House Acceptance is something I have been working with for a long time — both personally and in the work I do with others. Acceptance is not the same as giving up or becoming passive. Rather, it is a willingness to fully be with what is present, to allow it space, instead of resisting, avoiding, or pushing it away. As human beings, we all move through uncertainty, grief, transition, anxiety, hope, joy, and exhaustion. Part of holding space is allowing those experiences to be present without needing to change or fix them. This is something we also explore deeply within the REbalance 200-hour yoga teacher training: how to stay present with ourselves and others, how to listen more fully, and how to meet each moment as it is. As we move through May, perhaps there is an invitation to notice what has been arriving in your own inner world — and whether you might meet it with just a little more gentleness. Finding orientation in uncertain times
Recently, I’ve noticed moments where I lose my sense of orientation. There is a lot of uncertainty—externally in the world, and at times internally as well. In those moments, I find myself returning to something simple and reliable: the breath. It has become a kind of North Star for me—something steady I can orient toward when things feel unclear or unsettled. In our studios, yoga has always been more than a physical practice. We have always understood it as a spiritual, energetic, and embodied practice—one that works across different layers of experience. What is evolving now is that we are more explicitly integrating psychotherapy and body-based psychological work into what we do. The breath sits at the meeting point of these approaches. It is where body, mind, and nervous system come into direct relationship. It also acts as a container—allowing us to be present with what is here, while giving us direction in the midst of uncertainty. In practice, it becomes a constant reference—something we can return to again and again. Among the many breathing techniques we teach, ujjayi breath holds a particular significance. Often translated as “victorious breath,” and sometimes called the “ocean breath,” it carries a soft, audible quality—like waves rolling steadily onto shore. That sound gives the mind something to rest on—something rhythmic, continuous, and reassuring. When a posture becomes challenging, when the body begins to resist, or when the mind starts to drift or contract, the instruction is simple: return to the breath. Not to control it, but to stay in relationship with it. To notice its texture, its sound, its rhythm. This is where the connection to psychotherapy becomes tangible. In moments of intensity—on the mat or in life—the nervous system can feel unsteady. The breath does not remove difficulty, but it allows us to stay with it. It offers a way to remain present, without becoming overwhelmed. Ujjayi breath, with its steady, oceanic quality, reminds us that intensity and calm can coexist. There can be movement, sensation, even discomfort—and still, something within us remains continuous. Like the North Star, the breath does not change what is happening around us. But it offers orientation. It gives us a way to navigate—moment by moment, inhale by inhale—through whatever we are encountering. In the end, the practice is simple: when things feel difficult, return to the breath. Let it guide you, moment by moment. In Yoga, we often cue to let go and release, to soften and to surrender. Even though, I feel that this is an important part of regaining balance in the body and life, it’s only part of the work and on its own only very limited in its effectiveness. The other part of the work is encouraging muscles that have lost their ability to hold onto energy, i.e. hypo-responsive muscles, to regain that skill and to thereby become fuller and more present. The muscles that are overworking, hyper-responsive muscles, benefit from letting go. However, hypo-responsive muscles have moved into a more collapsed state that does not benefit from releasing, as there is nothing to be released. The protection in those muscles is a distancing vs. a holding on. Inviting hypo-responsive muscles to soften encourages them to further move into collapse, i.e. further away from balance.
Those parts of ourselves that have gone away need kind encouragement to return. Working with dosage is a key aspect in the work. Gently inviting more aliveness to increase the capacity for holding onto energy is crucial. The question is: What is missing? What is not present? And then to listen to the silent voices within. I’d love to hear your reflections on your missing parts and the areas in the body that tend to go away. In the last week and a half I have been caught out by a lot of road works and was sent on many diversions. For me, that represents very accurately what’s happening in my life. I feel that there have been a lot of distractions, some further dismantling, but also a laying down of some foundation for the future; an investment into what is to come.
Even though it feels bumpy and disruptive at the moment and literally some of my usual journey times were doubled, I can also see how this is a re-orientation towards something more solid, stronger and more beautiful. My feeling is that I have been sent around the houses on many different levels and ended up in a lot of cul-de-sacs, had to reverse and try a different route. My sense is that these detours are part of life and instead of fighting them, I’d like to bring curiosity to them and trust that this is exactly where I need to be. And very importantly, I start to get a glimpse of something brighter. The definition of chaos according to the online Cambridge dictionary is: “a state of total confusion with no order”. For me, this currently describes very accurately the state of the world externally as well as our internal landscapes. The state of our environment including the current heat wave, our economy with rising energy prices and inflation, the turbulences in politics, the war in Ukraine, the pandemic, including effects not only on our mental and physical health, but also on our health system and job market have all contributed to a sense of chaos, i.e. a lack of solidity and structure, where seemingly one random event is followed by another. One moment, we’re in lock down, the next we’re concerned about supplies of building materials, the next we’re shocked by Russia invading the Ukraine, which is followed by travel chaos and melting runways, railways and roads.
In myself and in my clients, I have noticed a lack of orientation and a feeling of free fall. With little certainty, we then seek structure and control. However, I feel that everything is in flux, everything is moving and there is little that this is certain and we can hold onto. Yet, there is opportunity in chaos, too. Instead of holding onto what is, maybe this is the time to re-order and re-balance, but not in a controlling way. This might be the right time to consider our overall vision for our lives from an alignment point of view and to ask the following questions: What is important to us and what are our priorities? What do we want our lives to feel and look like? What is emerging right now? Since the beginning of the pandemic, I have been studying extensively with Dr. Bonnie Badenoch, a psychotherapist, author, mentor and speaker. She leans heavily into Ian McGilchrist’s work of the divided brain, which I have found increasingly fascinating. It is proposed that the left side of the brain attempts to create certainty through categorisation. New information is dismembered and sorted according to familiar classifications. The left side is about plans and goals; it continually asks the question: How will this benefit me? Protocols, interventions and task-orientation is coming out of this side of the brain. There is an “either/or” perspective and a tendency towards judgement. The cortical columns of neurons in the left side of the brain are relatively isolated and there are far fewer interconnections. It could be said that the information becomes somewhat dead.
On the other hand, the right side of the brain orients us to the space between, the “relational space” and how it is unfolding from one moment to the next. Everything is held in context and becomes a unique experience that is unrepeatable. Whereas the left side of the brain is concerned with either/or, the right side of the brain can accept the paradox and a both/and perspective. There is an awareness that there is uncertainty and with that a potential for both suffering and meaning. The cortical columns of neurons in that side of the brain are “richly interconnected”, which makes it a well-wired network. It is not about vilifying the left side of the brain; it’s about understanding that both hemispheres are important with their relationship to each other being vital. However, it is crucial the right side takes the lead and the left supports. Both McGilchrist and Badenoch postulate that a significant shift in society towards “left dominance” has happened, which essentially prevents us from being fully present and in our bodies. We’re unable to process stress and trauma and derive meaning from life, which can only happen when we inhabit and lead from the right side of the brain. Whilst spending time in South Africa in April, I was reminded about the importance of being seen. When I walked, drove and rode my bike through the streets of a small village, I was greeted and waved at, which not only made me feel very welcomed, but I also started to experience myself differently.
Although it’s hard to put in words, the best way to describe it is: I felt more human again. I was seen and greeted as me vs. as someone I might represent or a role I might take on. This in turn reminded me of the Zulu greeting of “Sawubona”, which means “I see you.”. This greeting implies that I exist, because I’m seen. Bonnie Badenoch in her book “The heart of trauma” cites this greeting in order to illustrate the importance of "warm interdependence", which is a natural state in our lives. Even though our culture, which is very left brain hemisphere dominant, encourages and celebrates self-reliance, self-regulation and self-care, we need the other in order to exist and thrive. For the last couple of months I’ve been fascinating on the body skill of “containment”, i.e. the ability to hold onto and regulate energies that are arising from within, including stress and emotions. As much as we need to learn how to say “no” and set clear boundaries, it’s equally important that we learn how to manage our own internal energies, which is very different from squashing them down. Containment enables us to pause and thereby facilitates a position of more choice and therefore freedom. According to the Bodynamic system, a Danish school of body psychotherapy, there are several muscles that hold the potential for greater containment. In this short video I have prepared, I’ll talk you through a simple exercise of activating TFL and the IT Band, which are related to this particular body skill and which are located on the outside of the thigh. I hope you’ll find it useful.
Let me know your experiences of doing this short video. |
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