Go on. Wiggle your eyebrows. I know I would.
Now — sorry to disappoint.
This is about sitting.
Specifically — sitting cross-legged on a chair.
Not beside a chair. Not near a chair. Not elegantly draped over it like a woman in a perfume ad. I mean — climbing into it like a polite jungle cat, folding one leg, then the other, until I’m neatly origami-d into position.
Compact. Cosy. Complete.
Let me paint the picture.
One leg tucked first, knee pointing out, foot snug underneath the opposite thigh. Then the second leg tucks under — bent at the knee, foot inverted and nudged beneath the opposite shin or thigh, sometimes disappearing completely under the curve of the first leg. It’s not a yoga-perfect lotus. It’s looser, practical.
The kind of sit that says: "I’m staying here for a while."
But if the chair isn’t wide enough — a betrayal I take personally — I have a secondary setup. A half-sit. Plan B. The compromise position. Here’s how it works: the right leg stays down, like a regular well-behaved chair-sitter. But the left leg? Oh, she climbs. I cross it under my right leg. Right thigh resting on top of my entire lower left leg, the ball of my left foot tucked beneath my right bum cheek. The rest of the foot folds inward, bottom still pressing into the chair, while the toes and arch often jut slightly off the edge like a little flag of protest. It’s like a stealth sit. One half in society, the other half in rebellion. It doesn’t have the full cocooned satisfaction of the true sit, but it gets the job done. It tells my body: we’re still us.
I do this everywhere. At home. On restaurant chairs (if the ambience is low stakes and the chairs aren’t trying to be all edgy and angular). On the plane. I’d do it in the dentist's chair if they'd let me.
And most definitely at work. Every single day.
And when I’m finally settled in, when the tea is hot and the sun is hitting me just right? Oh my god. Pure, unfiltered joy.
The setup – How to fall in love with a chair
You can’t just plonk into a cross-legged chair moment.
It’s not chaos. It's a ritual. A carefully engineered sequence of micro-decisions that all lead to glory.
The Pants: They must be soft. They must be forgiving. Waistbands should sit like a good therapist: present, supportive, but not intrusive.
Shoes: Off. Always. This is non-negotiable. One must not enter sacred ground in sneakers.
Bladder: Emptied. We do not break the flow once the legs are up. This is a 30-minute minimum commitment.
Muscles: Ideally sore from the previous day’s exercise. DOMS (Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness) from a strength training session that makes the leg lift feel like a tiny triumph. A quiet masochism.
Chair-to-table height: Crucial. This is the secret alignment that makes or breaks the entire operation. If the chair is too high relative to the table, your folded legs feel squashed, your elbows hover awkwardly, and your wrists start to ache from trying to reach up. If the chair is too low, your knees come up too high, making the cross-legged position feel cramped and squishy, and you end up hunched like a gremlin just to reach your laptop. But when it’s right? Oh, when it’s right—your folded legs tuck in comfortably, your thighs align with the seat, and your forearms glide effortlessly along the tabletop. Your body feels like it was built for this desk. Like the furniture gets you.
Light: Must be natural. Bonus points for a sunny corner. I will seek it like a houseplant with ambition.
Tea: Hot. Flavourful. Within slurping distance.
And then — finally — I fold in. Spine tall. Ankles tucked. Wrists hovering perfectly above the laptop keyboard. I’m not just sitting. I’m locked in position.
Creative flow? Cross your legs first
My most creative moments happen in this position. Unless I’m walking; I do love a good walk. But this is about sitting. About how much I love a good sit.
Give me a stubborn paragraph, a messy spreadsheet, a sales strategy in crisis. Let me fold in. Tea on the right. Google Docs on the left. Sunlight pouring in like divine approval. And then — click. My brain’s on.
I’m not slouching. I’m coiling. Coiled like a spring. Coiled like a genius in wait.
People talk about flow states like they’re hard to reach. Have you tried just sitting correctly?
Why some people can’t sit cross-legged (and why I can)
Sitting cross-legged on a chair isn’t a universal skill — it’s part anatomy, part habit, part cultural muscle memory.
Hips: You need good external rotation. If your hip joints are tight or deeply set, it might feel pinchy or just... wrong.
Muscles: Tight hamstrings, glutes, or hip flexors? Your pelvis won’t tilt right, and your legs won’t lift smoothly.
Joints: Knees and ankles are doing acrobatics here. Old injuries or stiffness make this a no-go zone.
Core & Back: Surprisingly, this isn’t a floppy posture. You need enough core strength to stay upright, especially without back support.
Body Geometry: Medium-long limbs + short torso = compact perfection. Other combos can feel cramped or unstable.
Upbringing: Maybe the biggest factor. If you grew up eating, praying, or learning while folded on the floor, your body just knows how to do this. If you didn’t, your body probably won’t spontaneously figure it out at 34.
It’s not superiority. It’s scaffolding. Some of us just had the reps early.
Final position
This isn’t just a position.
It’s a folding into the self so the self can unfold.
So here’s to my favourite position. The one that brings me closest to comfort, creativity, and clarity.
No straps. No incense. Just me, a chair, and the perfect pleasure of getting every single thing—tea, thighs, thoughts, sunlight—exactly right.
Cross-legged. Switched on. Blissed out.
Try it sometime. Your chair won’t know what hit it.
This was a pure joy read 🥰❤️
I didn't realise there were others who cared so much about chair-table height ratio and seat width as much as I did. A chair position creating waves of kinship, this is what the internet was made for ❤️❤️❤️