There is something powerful about physically opening your heart.
Not metaphorically. Not just emotionally. But actually expanding the chest, broadening the collarbones, allowing the shoulders to soften back, and letting the front of the body stretch open.
Supported Reclined Fish is one of those heart-opening postures that feels simple, but carries profound depth. You lie back over a bolster or block. Your chest gently lifts. Your arms rest open. Your breath begins to widen.
And if you stay long enough, you begin to feel it.
The expansion.
The vulnerability.
The invitation.
I love this posture because it reminds me that what happens in the body is never just physical. When the chest opens, something often opens inside us too.
We Live Closed More Than We Realize
We live in a world that subtly trains us to close.
Close to people who disagree with us.
Close to neighbors who feel different.
Close to pain that feels overwhelming.
Close to grief we do not want to revisit.
Close to forgiveness that feels too costly.
In many first-world contexts especially, it is easy to protect ourselves by pulling inward. By narrowing. By staying guarded.
And sometimes that protection is necessary. Boundaries matter. Wisdom matters. Safety matters.
But I do not believe we were created to stay closed.
We follow a God who is always creating, renewing, expanding. A God who invites us into deeper love, wider mercy, fuller life. If the universe itself is expanding, if creation continues to unfold, how much more are we invited to grow beyond what has been?
Supported Reclined Fish becomes a physical way to step into that invitation.
A Posture of Expansion
When you enter Supported Reclined Fish, your heart space is lifted toward the sky. The ribcage widens. The breath becomes fuller. The front body, where we often guard and brace, begins to soften.
At first, it can feel exposed.
That is part of the beauty.
We often armor the heart. We brace against disappointment. We hold tension across the chest and shoulders without even realizing it. Over time, that guarding becomes our default posture.
But in this shape, you cannot hide from openness. Your body says yes before your mind is fully convinced.
And sometimes that is exactly what we need.
“Open the Eyes of My Heart”
There is a worship song many of us know that prays, “Open the eyes of my heart, Lord.” It is a line I have come back to again and again over the years, especially in seasons when I could feel myself growing guarded or numb. In Supported Reclined Fish, that lyric becomes embodied prayer.
That is Supported Reclined Fish.
It is not forced positivity. It is not pretending everything is fine. It is not bypassing hurt.
It is a quiet prayer in physical form.
Paul writes in Ephesians 1:18, “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you…” (NIV).
Notice that phrase: the eyes of your heart.
The heart can close.
The heart can harden.
The heart can grow dim.
And yet God desires to enlighten it.
When we lie back and allow the chest to open, we are embodying that prayer. We are saying, God, meet me here. Open what has closed. Heal what has tightened. Bring light to what feels guarded.
When It Feels Hard to Open
It is important to say this clearly: sometimes opening the heart feels impossible.
If you have faced a major loss.
If someone you loved hurt you.
If a dream collapsed.
If grief still sits heavy.
Openness can feel unsafe.
And that is not weakness. That is honesty.
We do not force ourselves open in those seasons. We honor what is true. We allow grief to be grief. We allow boundaries to be boundaries. We remember that healing is not rushed.
And yet, even in those seasons, there may come a moment when we sense a gentle invitation. Not to ignore the pain. Not to erase the past. But to allow God to begin softening what has grown rigid.
Supported Reclined Fish can help begin that process.
Not because the posture is magical. Not because stretching fixes everything.
But because when the body softens, the heart often follows.
Exhale What No Longer Serves You
In this posture, your breath becomes a guide.
You might imagine exhaling what has been weighing you down. Resentment. Fear. Bitterness. Self-protection. Old narratives.
You might imagine inhaling what God is offering right now. Mercy. Renewal. A new door. A softened heart. Courage to forgive. Courage to receive.
Sometimes, as you rest there, you may sense a name rising to the surface. A situation you have avoided. A place in your life where God is inviting restoration.
Being closed off can feel safe, but it is small.
We were created for expansion. For growth. For movement toward love.
A God of Renewal
We follow a God who redeems. Who reforms what is twisted. Who brings life out of what felt dead.
If everything ultimately belongs to God, then everything can be redeemed. Including our guarded hearts.
Supported Reclined Fish is a small act of trust in that larger story.
It is a reminder that you do not have to live braced. You do not have to live perpetually guarded. You are allowed to grow. You are allowed to soften. You are allowed to be surprised by grace again.
Let the Body Lead
Sometimes the mind and heart feel too tangled to begin there.
So we begin with the body.
We lie back.
We breathe.
We open.
We let God meet us in the physical space of expansion, trusting that deeper work is unfolding beneath the surface.
There is no rush. No performance. No forcing.
Just a posture.
A breath.
An invitation.
And perhaps, slowly, a heart that begins to open again.
