Good form allows movement to be powerful and efficient. But form is just a shape, and the shape we take depends on what we need to do.
I think about this when I train. A lifter grips the bar with rigid structure to generate force. A dancer extends through the fingertips, creating length and fluidity. Both are precise. Both serve their function. They don’t move the same way because they don’t need to.
I think about this at my desk. The sport I practice eight hours a day is law.
What is the form of this work? It’s posture—not just spinal alignment, but the way presence is held. Hands that shape ideas in the air. Shoulders that soften when listening. A steady gaze that signals understanding. If weightlifting is about force and dance is about expression, then this work is about attention—listening deeply, thinking critically, and guiding with clarity.
Just like in movement, form in work shapes function. And when form collapses, something is lost. What happens when we spend years hunched, eyes down, body curled inward? What atrophies when we stop paying attention?
The body adapts to what we ask of it—and just as easily, it lets go of what we don’t. The same is true of the mind.
A life, like a body, benefits from different ways of moving. Tension and release. Strength and softness. Precision and fluidity.
And so, I think about the forms I take. The ones I practice daily. The ones I neglect. The ones I might choose to revisit.
Every action, every posture, every habit leaves its mark.
Until next time,
Fatimeh