Like a road that starts in the plains, crosses mountains, desert, hills, and ends by the sea, your psoas muscle covers a lot of terrain. This muscle is integral in sitting, walking, and standing, as well as forward and back ward bending—all of your essential movements. It connects upper and lower body, rib cage with pelvis, and mid-back with thighs. Given all of this, it’s worthwhile to spend a little time getting to know it better.

Let’s look at the specific geography. The psoas originates at the base of your ribcage, at the twelfth thoracic vertebra. It inserts (or ends) at the lesser trochanter of your thigh bone. This is a knobby point of bone on the inner upper thigh, high up in your groin, part of what is called your “pelvic floor.”

Within the psoas muscle, there are different qualities in different areas. In the northern portion where it originates at your rib cage, psoas is ropey and attaches to the spine and discs. As we move south, psoas spreads out, becoming broader and flatter.

In the pelvis psoas lines the front of your hipbones, not unlike the way a piecrust lines a pie plate (a phrase borrowed from my yoga teacher Donald Moyer). Think about that for a minute. If we tune into the quality of the muscle within the pelvis we can feel where it has gotten bunched up like a crust with wrinkles in it, and invite release, like a rolling pin evening out the dough. Psoas returns to a more ropey quality south of the pelvis to insert at your inner upper thighbone.

Let’s look at some of the key players in the psoas geography. Nearby the psoas origin are the lower or “floating” ribs, breathing diaphragm, kidneys, and adrenals. We can consider each of these to be neighbors or house mates. Do you know how it is when your roommate comes home all agitated and upset? It can be very hard to fully separate yourself from their angst. In the same way, the humor or state of being of physical structures in your body can influence one another.

The interface between psoas and your breathing diaphragm means that the state of this muscle and breathing are intimately inter twined. A tight psoas can influence breathing . . . likewise a restricted diaphragm can influence psoas. Restricted breathing will influence overall health and well-being in time. The lungs are the bellows nourishing the digestive fire. If you cannot breathe freely, your digestion will be thrown off, leading to a cycle of less energy, less resilience, more vulnerability to illness.

Your kidneys and adrenals are right there in the mix too, located at the base of the ribcage, rubbing up against psoas, massaged by the breathing diaphragm. These internal organs are fundamental in the fight/flight action-oriented sympathetic nervous system response. If the psoas is tight, your breathing can become restricted and the internal organs will be going overtime. Or if you are not able to settle down and relax, the adrenals won’t quit, psoas will be influenced to contract, and it’s hard to take a deep breath. Sound familiar?

As you are starting to see, psoas is intimately intertwined with your nervous system. This muscle is fundamental to the sympathetic/parasympathetic response. Sympathetic state is often called, “fight/flight” and is an action-oriented state. Parasympathetic state, or “rest and digest,” is a calm state of receptivity.

When you feel safe, psoas relaxes, your pelvis opens, you breathe easily, stand tall, and are receptive. When you feel threatened, psoas contracts, your pelvis pulls back, breathing is restricted, and you are vigilant. Psoas knows, “This I trust, this I don’t.”

The sensitivity and attunement of psoas makes it a great tool for knowing how you truly feel. We might call it your “gut feeling” about people, places, and things. Let’s try an experiment. Think of a place where you feel unsafe. A place where you feel threatened or intimidated. A dark alley at night comes to mind for me. What is the feeling in your body? How are you breathing? What does your pelvis feel like? For many, it gets very hard to feel their body in such a circumstance. See if you can slow down and feel, for just a moment. Is it difficult to breathe? Is there an achiness in your back? This is a tight, contracted psoas, ready for action.

Now open your eyes, take a few deep breaths, and let’s try something else. Think about a place you love, a place where you can deeply relax, where you feel at home. A beach with warm sand and sun comes to mind for me. Or cool moss at the foot of a shady tree on a warm day. Now recognize that feeling in your body. Notice your breathing. Do the ribs spread evenly as you breathe in and out? Notice your pelvis. Does it feel open, stable, comfortable? Can you breathe freely? This is the feeling of being at ease. This is a long, luxurious psoas.

A long and luxurious psoas is delicious. It feels as though your legs begin at the base of the ribs. Standing tall and walking with ease in your stride comes naturally when psoas is released. This is a delight to experience, and is your birthright. You deserve to be at ease in your body and mind. Let psoas be your guide to better knowing how you really feel in each moment.

Cator Shachoy is a longtime yogi, healer, and teacher in the SF Bay Area. She is fascinated by the mysterious indivisibility of mind, body, and heart. CatorShachoy.com

Ihave a confession to make. Pinocchio is my brother. No, I’m not made of wood. For sure, there are no strings on me. And my nose doesn’t exactly grow when I tell a lie. But the tip of my nose does get red and painful when I eat sweets. It’s true! It took not eating them to learn this was definitely happening. My nose would be perfectly fine, and then a day after eating a very innocent-looking cookie—which tasted and felt wonderful on the way down—I wished my nose were made of wood like my bro Pinocchio because then it wouldn’t hurt so much. I like sweets. Especially chocolate and cookies. In the afternoon around 4:00 my blood sugar drops, and I sure do like to get a Florentine and a chocolate chip cookie with salt on top at Peet’s—yum! I’m active and healthy, so it’s okay, right? I mean, it’s just sugar.

Last fall I went to see my Tibetan physician. She was alarmed at my inflammation level. “If you get a blood test it will show an elevated white blood cell count.”

“Really?!”

“Oh, and here—start using my antidiabetes tea. Not that you have diabetes. . .”

“You better believe I don’t!” I shot back at her playfully

After I left, what she said sank in. It was time to make some changes. I was the only one who could really make a difference on this one—my own commitment to myself. I made the choice to listen more closely to my body. I realized my nose was keeping me honest. I could no longer hide even the smallest intake of sugar. So I had a choice. Keep lying to myself or use the information I was getting wisely. My nose became my teacher. With the incentive of keeping my nose (and the rest of me) happy and healthy, I began to investigate my sugar cravings. What was I really hungry for?

When they come, they are really intense. And totally believable—I must have chocolate now! Every cell in my being wants to get up and get what I want. It’s totally legal, not harming anyone. But do I really want to become the balloon-nosed version of Pinocchio again? Knowing the repercussions, I have a stronger incentive to resist. It’s not easy to sit still and do nothing in those moments.

I began to breathe. Soften my body. Feel into what was going on. Just by creating space between thought and action, things became more workable. I felt myself calm down. An amazing thing happened: the craving passed. I was still alive, most everything was still just the same—but I didn’t have to eat that cookie. Or chocolate. Or cake. Even when people around me were eating everything in sight, somehow it was okay to say no, to practice restraint. When I could feel myself, I realized I felt better eating protein, greens, soup.

Learning to work with my sugar cravings made me wonder about other cravings—all forms of consumption. What about the “need” to buy those cute shoes? Or sweet-looking top? The sense of urgency to get it now felt a lot like gobbling something up—not so very different from eating sweets. There was the same giddy rush of satisfaction immediately afterward. But then, a few minutes later, another craving might arise, and I needed something else. So ultimately, it really wasn’t all that satisfying. Slowing down, breathing, softening—it became workable. Maybe I don’t need whatever it was after all.

What about the craving to check the news? Everyone’s ranting about the latest thing Trump destroyed. In some way, when we read the news we are taking it into our being, ingesting and consuming it. It’s not unlike eating. What does your diet consist of? And yes, the old adage still holds true—we are what we eat. How does what you consume impact your overall health and well-being? How do your body and mind feel after consumption of any sort? By applying the same approach of breathing, softening, feeling, we can become more connected to our actions and the results of our actions: “Let’s see, I bought (ate, saw, watched) that, and now I feel this way.”

Cause and effect can be seen quickly, and we can begin to make wiser choices. “Oh, I don’t want to do that again.” Staying connected to the results of our actions—how we feel in any given moment—can help us to have less regret. We don’t have to wait for it to come back around in 5 or 10 years. We know right away if this was not a good idea. And we can make a different choice. Because now we know how to practice restraint. Breathe, soften, feel. Wait for it. Allow the urge to pass. It’s gonna be okay, really.

The biggest challenge is remembering to not get caught up in the swirl of energy that says, “I must do this now!” As Ram Dass says, “Did you remember?” It takes conscious effort to put a pause between thought and action. Thoughts can be so very convincing. Learning to question thoughts before we act, we can add the little phrase: “Is that really true?” And then wait just a few minutes. Breathe. Soften. Feel. Hmmm. In the slowing down, other options appear. It takes renewed commitment. Again and again. I have more respect for Pinocchio these days. Thanks to him, my nose has taught me a deep lesson in honesty to myself.

Cator Shachoy is a craniosacral practitioner, and yoga and mindfulness instructor in private practice in SF and Berkeley. She also teaches workshops and retreats. CatorShachoy.com