Five days beneath Wedge Mountain, where the glacier held the sky, mist moved softly through the forest without explaining how or why. At the Whistler immersive, something waited out of sight not another clever story, but a movement finding light. If there is nowhere I can go, why would my feet begin? If speaking once meant consequences, why would a voice come in? The cortex wrote a memo: “You’re completely safe today.” The brainstem stamped it “RETURN TO SENDER” and filed the thing away. This isn’t lack of courage. This isn’t failure of will. A nervous system learned protection by becoming very still. Shock interrupted movement. Overwhelm consumed the frame. The body held unfinished action but lost its destination’s name. A step requires a possible place. A voice requires some room. A self cannot move toward a future when every path predicts the same doom. Don’t know where I can go so how can I walk Not allowed to speak so how can I talk I’m FUCKING STUCK NOW I’m ready for a space at the table Make SPACE for me now that I’m able Martin didn’t force the movement or pull the armor down; attunement listened underneath the bracing wrapped around. An Interweave, precisely timed, met the place that could not yield not demanding it surrender, not pretending it had healed. The jaw had held a history. The sternum knew the cost. The hips remembered interrupted steps the thinking mind had lost. The head and body found a question that required no perfect plan: “Is there somewhere I might move toward from exactly where I am?” No end-gaining for the doorway. No performance, no command. First the world must offer somewhere; then the foot can understand. Don’t know where I can go so how can I walk Not allowed to speak so how can I talk I’m FUCKING STUCK NOW I’m ready for a space at the table Make SPACE for me now that I’m able Before a conscious explanation, the midbrain notices the shift; defense can brace the musculature while affect begins to lift. Motor pathways need direction not instruction from above, but somewhere real to move toward that does not punish need or love. The freeze was never emptiness. The silence wasn’t none. They held a thousand preparations that had nowhere safe to run. We slow the inner sequence until hidden motion shows: a turn, a breath, a changing shape the beginning of “I know.” I was not born without a pathway. I was not made without a sound. My movement waited for a future where my feet could trust the ground. You do not dismantle armoring by attacking what defended. You meet the bracing with precision until the old demand has ended. I don’t need you to speak for me. I don’t need you to decide. Attunement doesn’t take my power it makes room for me inside. The table isn’t charity. The chair is not a prize. I do not need permission to become my proper size. Move the old assumptions. Move the silence. Move the label. If the room was built without me build it wider. I am able. Don’t know where I can go so how can I walk Not allowed to speak so how can I talk I’m FUCKING STUCK NOW I’m ready for a space at the table Make SPACE for me now that I’m able Make space for my movement. Make space for my voice. Make space but do not choose for me. I am here. I have a choice. Five days beneath the glacier, what was motionless could move. Not because somebody pushed it because there was somewhere it could go.
