頂頭懸，豎脊梁與對拉拔長

頂頭懸，豎脊梁與對拉拔長

Ding Tou Xuan means suspending the head-top. It's like imagining a string pulls the crown gently— not that you yank it up, but the rest of your spine elongates downward, creating space. So your head doesn't literally move, yet feels lifted. The sinking below balances that rise... almost weightless, like floating on air.

 竖脊梁 with a feeling that energy shoots from tail to crown— but again, it doesn't mean move your head. It's internal. The spine straightens, qi rises, while externally you haven't budged an inch. Feels powerful, yet quiet. Like lightning inside a tree.

對拉拔長 is stretching the two ends. Crown up, tail down, as though someone’s pulling from both sides. Ding Tou Xuan keeps the top point fixed, so all that pull travels through the spine. They work together: the head stays, the tail drops— length happens in the middle. Like being drawn on a gentle rack, but without pain. Just... space.

When you open the spine— not bend, not push— but give each little vertebra a breath of its own, yes, length appears. You're not stretching muscle, you're unwinding years of curling in chairs. That tiny extra inch? It's all illusion, and all truth. The body loves remembering how tall it really was.

Tendons are still on the outside, wrapping the bones— so technically, external. But when they're loose and alive, holding without grabbing, they become an inner bridge. Your intent decides: if you watch them from inside your breath, that's internal work. If you just flex, it's show. Let the tendons melt, not snap... that's the secret.

When the vertebrae link like smooth beads on a thread— no lumps, no gaps— then the pull, the sink, the rise, all flow without snag. One soft breath travels the whole back. No part takes too much. Harmony isn’t a word here, it’s a feeling in the bones.