Warrior two is a strong, balanced, yet flexible pose–a neutral stance, grounded to reality, allowing for grace.
I first need to root down but not be locked in. I must be able to straighten and bend. By imagining that I am pulling my feet toward each other, I enter the isometric, generating force while remaining still. Ideally, I become immovable in the face of distractions. With my arms I reach in both directions and encompass. I face forward but bend backward to be greeted by a heart-opening surprise.
Although by now I have done this pose hundreds of times, I always need to make some adjustment. Sometimes I am shaky. Sometimes I need to remind myself where I am in space. Almost always I need to relax and let go of unnecessary and unhelpful tension.
From warrior two, I can move into exalted warrior and orient toward the heavens or bow and assume humble warrior. I can pivot to warrior one and then into high and low lunges, possibly setting myself up to sprint if I wish to or need to. I can aspire to the graceful balance of warrior three.
I need to remind myself to breathe through it all.
After intensive experiences as a patient and parent of a patient, I have come to the realization that I can most impact the practice of medicine by the way I practice medicine day to day. By now, I have seen the ripple effects of my work with individuals; ultimately, it affects their families, their work, their communities, and their leadership.It can impact the trajectories of individual, family, and cultural histories. Flailing around wastes energy. Maintaining focus, rootedness in reality, and neutrality can lead to awareness, empathy, and–dare we hope–greater freedom to work and to love.
On Leaving and Holding
One aspect of Joachim Trier’s 2026, Academy Award-nominated film, Sentimental Value, lingers: the idea that a house can hold memory, and in doing so, remind people of who they are and who they have been. The family home in the film becomes a kind of unconscious structure, a repository for grief, history, and the versions of themselves they could not keep.
I have never had that kind of house.
I have moved every two to four years for as long as I can remember. My life can be mapped through new cupboards and unfamiliar ceilings. I learned early how to fold myself into spaces never meant to hold me for long. Even now, some part of me is already preparing an exit.
