Lean your body forward slightly to support the guitar against your chest, for the poetry of the music should resound in your heart.

The small surrender of leaning in

There's something almost physical about how we receive art. Segovia wasn't just talking about guitar posture—he was describing the difference between performing and truly playing. When your body leans in, you're not maintaining distance anymore. You're vulnerable to the sound you're making, literally letting it vibrate through you. That slight forward tilt becomes a kind of surrender.

This matters because we often consume art (or work, or relationships) from a removed position—detached, protected, ready to critique from a distance. But Segovia understood that if you want music to move others, it has to move you first. The same applies to writing, teaching, parenting, or any work that requires authenticity. You can't phone it in from across the room. Your body, your full attention, your willingness to be affected—these aren't separate from the thing itself. They're part of what makes it real.

The poetry resounding in your heart isn't metaphorical accident. It's the result of closing the gap between yourself and what you're doing. That forward lean is small, almost invisible, but it's the difference between going through the motions and actually being present. Most of us could use more of that in our lives.