Physical Thinking

After stumbling upon a new site called Curled Up (With A Good Book), and somewhat falling into a haphazard pattern of locking myself in a specific location for a few hours every day, I have come to realization of a huge change in body patterns within the last two months.  Let me explain.

Reading.  What body language ensues when we read?  How do you fit the mold, literally, of the book that's attached to your fragile hands and fingers?  Per usual, you are curled up and comfortable, working your limbs into a position where you can read, ponder, reflect, and really get into it.  But everyone's definition of "curled up" is different.  My physical diction highly contrasts what I would have been doing with these precious hours a year ago.  Instead of being "curled up", I would have been stretching, bending, flexing, pushing, pulling, forcing, and of course, releasing.  I obviously knew my rigorous daily routine would take a huge shift; however, I am know realizing, I'm still using my body, but curiously in the extreme opposite way.  I'm not talking about lack of exercise or working out, but the thought behind the movements.  The odd extremities of thought, both which are defined by intelligent teachers- whether they be written or dance oriented. 

I am curled into myself. Like a little rubber ball waiting to explode, I curl on my belly, on my back, propped with pillows, and surround myself with the same layers I would as if I'm warming up for Susan Dromisky.  I switch from the fetal position to Alice's sleepy pose as I lose myself in books full of history, metaphors, allegory's and memories.  I am translating someone else's movement; but in my head, and my body responds not like a machine trained to follow, imitate, and feel within limited technical restraints, but like an after thought- something that comes natural in my own environment.  My physicality is just reflecting what's occurring in my head, not what's in the mirror or whoever is in front of the class.  You have to realize, this "training", lovely as it is/was (?) is something that has been ingrained in me since I was barely five years old.  Something I have always done, which is why this simple revelation is jolting.

The environment, what is it?  Clearly, that constitutes some of the meaning behind being "curled up".  If you curl up somewhere, you must be comfortable. The obvious bed, couch, chair, come to mind.  Think about your environment.  Do you listen to music in the background?  Play with your hair?  Doodle between chapters?  Stare at the page after an intense scene?  How many lights of candles do you have on?  Are there people around you, or are you completely secluded- alone in a beautiful way?  I'll tell you my environment...if you care to read on.  

I love quiet; though not always.  I relish the sounds of the city and music in the car is probably one of the most comforting things ever.  I love the sounds of a family member walking up the stairs, or the clanking of spoons against a pan- signaling that dinner is ready.  I love the clacking horses make when they stomp in their cages, silently refusing their habitation.  I crave the sound of waves, and people's loafers on a boardwalk at 5pm.  The sound of music and why I love it would take ages to explain, so I won't go there now...but in a "curled up" mood, quiet is essential.  Coffee shops work, but the background music usually needs to be on low.  I get distracted by the not-so-interesting conversations or sounds of typing next to me.  My quiet usually equates to an empty house or a lonely library corner or someplace propped up on the sand.  The silence is engulfing.  No TV.  No Radio.  No video games.  None of my ITunes playlists.  Why?  I'll start singing or humming and my attention will automatically cheat devotion to the dedication laying open in my palms.  My phone is a annoying distraction, so I'll often shut it off or hide it in the stove.  Too much coffee is bad, cause ADD will unabashedly ensue.  Too much water will cause annoying bathroom breaks.  Airports though, airports are great. They are lonely because everyone is in a transition period, and therefore somewhat alone, even if their family is nearby.  People are in between homes and families and work and play; it all feeds into needing a comfortable spot to curl up, even if comfort becomes a blue germy plastic chair.

There most certainly is a methodical and practical physical response, lying and waiting within the pages.  Whatever I read next will affect my body language, though no one sees it. My body language is privately affected by my emotions, so I can curl up tighter and snuggle to the hope that the heroin will avenge her enemy, or cross my ankles delicately to express joy or happiness for the protagonist who just found the correct key to the mysteries of Romania...or what have you.

Concluding, these thoughts make it apparent I am happy to have the time to be reading for pleasure again.  Though I loved my English major literature, brilliantly glorifying ageless thoughts- I can study and journal about books I want to read right now.  I don't have to wait for the passing of midterms and 10 question quizzes testing me.  I'll test myself, and refer to maps, retrieve the history and logic of an historian/author/creative mastermind behind the text.  

Get curled up, yo.  Tell me where you do it.