Moving from the Middle

"Your hand opens and closes, and opens and closes.

If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding —the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds' wings."

Rumi

When you start a yoga practice and the teacher invites you to “draw your attention inwards”… where do you go?

Do you land in your belly — steady and grounded?

In your heart — warm and open?

Or perhaps in the quiet space between your eyes, where thought begins to soften?

For some people, that sense of “centre” feels clearly physical — anchored in muscle and bone. For others, it’s more energetic or even spiritual — a place of presence and stillness. And it can change from day to day.

Across many traditions, this centre is recognised in different ways:

• In Taoist and martial arts practice, it’s the Hara or Dantian — the body’s core and source of life force.

• In yoga, it’s echoed in the Manipura chakra, linked to power, transformation, and direction.

• In somatic movement, the core is both a stabiliser and a source of expressive reach.

• In contemplative practice, it’s the grounded place we return to when we pause.

Wherever you locate it, your centre is both anchor and launcpad— the still point that steadies you when the world shifts, and the source of momentum when we move out into action and connection. Like the breath, it expands and returns, over and over: reaching beyond yourself, then coming home to stillness, rest, and reflection.

This kind of centre isn’t rigid or braced. It’s alive. It responds. It listens. It adapts. Like the calm eye of a storm, it can hold both strength and softness — not closing in, but radiating out.

On the mat, we often talk about engaging the core — but beyond the muscles, there’s an energetic quality to our middle. When we move from it, the body feels both supported and free. When we live from it, our actions feel clearer, steadier, and more intentional.

The practice, then, is not about gripping the middle with force, but trusting its rhythm — letting it be a place to move from, and a place to return to.

Off the mat

When the day feels scattered, pause and find your middle.

Feel your feet on the ground.

Notice your breath in your belly, the beat of your heart, or the stillness behind your eyes.

Pay attention to how your body naturally adjusts with each inhale and exhale.

You don’t have to hold your centre tightly — it’s always there, steady and ready to welcome you home.