On static stretching, nervous-system resets, and the business of getting back into our bodies.
The holiday season of overstimulation is approaching, and “nervous-system resets” are finding their way onto the shelves, neatly packaged for the holiday rush.
Combinations of guided relaxation, breathing exercises, mobility, stretching, and somatic practices. Each promises a variation of regulation, restoration, or reconnection. The language is appealing, the packaging is thoughtful, and the premise is familiar: as a society we have jumped into our phones and out of our bodies, leaving us dysregulated, disconnected, and in dire need of a reset.
To describe the body’s stress response, my first nutrition professor showed us an illustration of a caveman holding a club over another caveman. Beside it was the same scene, except the cavemen were wearing office clothes, and the club became a pointed finger, suggesting that one was being berated by his boss.
The lesson was that our bodies still respond to perceived threats, even when those threats no longer involve physical danger. The nervous system doesn’t require a caveman with a club to initiate a stress response. An angry boss or email will do.
The caveman slideshow was from the year Justin Timberlake brought SexyBack. Few people had cameraphones in their back pockets, and people still danced at parties. I believe when people lost the freedom to dance without the World Wide Web watching, they also lost a great form of stress relief, and the need for it has only increased.
We’ve built environments where spontaneous movement requires permission, scheduling or an audience. You can run from a lion. You can’t run from your boss in wingtips and a tie.
Modern stress is undeniable.
Autonomic dysfunction is disorienting.
Who wouldn’t want a nervous-system reset packaged as a product?
When we buy a product, we want the biggest bang for our buck. Max protein. Fiber maxxing. Sleep-optimizing jewelry. And a brand-new nervous-system, Santa. Please and thank you.
Last time I checked, humans aren’t hair dryers. You can’t press the red and yellow buttons to reset your nervous-system.
When I pick up the “nervous-system reset” as a product, turn it around and read the ingredient list, I recognize some mechanisms of movement we’ve known for generations.
Breathing, focused attention, relaxation, and sensory awareness can (and arguably should) accompany static stretching. The nervous-system has always participated in the experience, whether we call it stretching or something more sophisticated.
Soma is Greek for “body.” Even the language of somatic movement begins with something remarkably ordinary.
Stretching, especially static stretching, went through the same chopping block as carbohydrates and egg yolks. A practice once considered essential became something to avoid—based partly on research examining how prolonged static stretching immediately before exercise could influence strength and explosive performance. Findings about stretching before maximal exertion became generalized into warnings about stretching altogether. I believe there may have been unconscious research biases in choosing what was measured in experiments. But I’ll save that for another day. Or book.
In creating social environments that discourage movement, have we progressively medicalized and commercialized ordinary forms of physical experience?
I ask because I don’t entirely understand when we collectively got “out” of our bodies. I’ve had a somewhat unique experience of dedicating a lifetime to connecting and reconnecting with mine.
And perhaps that’s the distinction. I understand that my relationship with my body is ongoing. Consistent. If I don’t check in with my body daily, Offenbach will be surging through my nervous system in 2-3 business days.
I am pro-breathing, stretching, relaxation, visualization, and learning to recognize the body’s responses to stress. I am grateful to the professors that had me study both the Alexander and Horton techniques, placing the highest value on the approach to movement and quality of its execution.
I find it curious that we had to rename so many of these experiences before we could sell them back to ourselves.
