The Animal Body
Beasts as companions for travel
Dear readers,
Two weeks have passed since I last wrote, and in that span life has brimmed over. I celebrated a birthday, a crossing into another year. That evening, I sat in a darkened theater in New York City, watching my son take the stage, his body carrying music into form, and felt my own breath catch with his. Later, both my wonderful sons and all the dancers of Ballet BC surprised me with a cake and sang “Happy Birthday” to me while we ate cake on the streets of NY.
Then came my departure, the weight of suitcases, the dislocation of airports, and now Rome, where I pause before Sardinia, suspended between what has just unfolded and what is still to come. On Tuesday, paid subscribers will receive The Architecture of Travel: Everything I Do for Jet Lag, my small rituals for arriving when the ground is shifting.
When I began this piece at my desk at home, my eyes rested on my deck of Animal Spirit cards by Kim Krans that sits there, a birthday gift from long ago, that I often return to. I don’t use them to tell the future as much as for openings, insights, a way to shift perspective. What strikes me is how they remind me that animals have always been teachers.
Joseph Pilates knew this. He borrowed their instincts and forms, gave them back to us in movement. The classical Pilates repertoire remembers. Some of my favorite exercises are named for animals, not for ornament but for instruction, a way to embody instinct.
Swan begins close to the ground, ribs anchored, breath moving forward before it lifts. The chest opens, the spine arcs, and wings do not force their way open, they unfold.
Elephant plants its feet, heavy and sure. The back rounds, the belly lifts, and movement comes not from pushing but from rooting, then rising. Weight turns into dignity and strength.
Grasshopper coils, gathers, releases. Energy stored in the seat, not the spine, and when the line of the body is whole, the spring becomes flight.
Seal claps its feet, rolls, balances, plays. Joy held inside order, discipline softened by play.
Crab moves sideways, folding and switching, yet never loses its internal map, teaching us to find strength even in unfamiliar directions.
Monkey lengthens the back of the body, while gathering strength. It asks for release as much as effort.
Frog bends and gathers, then presses out with clarity. Readiness alive in the pause before motion.
If you don’t yet know these Pialtes exercises name for animals, consider this a glimpse. They are best learned from a qualified and certified instructor.
And of course I must alsot mention my dog, who does not have a Pilates exercise named for him, but whose absence I will fell every day in Sardinia and who’s spirit is with me always. From him I learn the most essential lesson of all: unconditional love. The way he greets me, without judgment and without demand, reminds me what it means to be fully met.
Each animal leaves something behind. Grace, strength, energy, joy, adaptability, release, readiness, and love. A bestiary written into the body.
And so here in Rome, with the hum of scooters and the toll of bells, I carry them with me as I prepare to cross to Sardinia. Companions for the journey, reminders that animals have always known how to teach, and our bodies have always known how to listen.
What have you learned from animals, in movement or in life? I’d love to hear in the comments. As always, I am listening.