Volume 1, No

Volume 1, No. 10, November 2002

Quote From Moshe: “The organism...needs constancy, order, invariance, homeostais if it is to exist...[The] nervous system introduces order into the random, constantly changing stimuli, impinging or arriving through the senses to the system...the most unexpected means to achieve this Herculean feat is movement. ” The Elusive Obvious, pp. 17-8

The Angel is in the Details

While at the zoo, looking at the flamingos, my eyes fell upon a patch of grass near the railing. It wasn’t a functional patch of grass; didn’t serve to feed the birds, hardly had any aesthetic appeal to it, was really only there as empty space. I didn’t so much as notice the empty patch as realize I was looking at it.

The patch was part of the picture, the whole scene there at the zoo that morning. The main element was the flock of flamingos, yes, the smell of algae, the pink blush of the birds, their honking sound. But there was that island of grass, too. It didn’t serve any purpose, but you couldn’t have taken it out of the picture, either. Something had to go in that spot.

I became aware that I was looking at the grass intently. When I glanced back at the flamingos, I found to my surprise that they looked more substantial than they had before. I had fitted the patch of grass into the scene, and realized that it was no less essential than the flamingos were. When I saw those birds in the context of their entire space, I enjoyed looking at them. I noticed how their color balanced with that of the green grass. The distance at which they danced was in contrast with the relative nearness of the patch at my feet. The dry grass touched the small pool that surrounded the little island upon which the flamingos danced. The flamingos became real and exciting creatures instead of mere images of birds because I was real and they were connected to me through space and time across that patch.

This illumination had some fringe benefits. I could breathe; I could relax; I stopped thinking about the future for a few seconds. I got outside my head and realized where I was and what I was doing and felt pretty darn good. I was astounded that I could feel a physical and emotional improvement by becoming more aware of the scene around me.

All of this from becoming aware of an “insubstantial” patch of grass.

We’re observers of ourselves, even while we exist and carry on as ourselves. The quality of our observation can be a measure of our success in our attempts to live as unimpeded human beings engaged in the fulfilling of our daily tasks. How well aware are you of what you’re doing? You might think you’re very aware. “I’m reading this newsletter. I’m eating a sandwich. I’m sitting in front of a computer.”

That’s enough, right? We don’t need more information than that. If we know we’re eating, reading, sitting, we have enough to go on, don’t we? Anything else is unimportant, just a detail that won’t add anything useful to the picture.

In a Feldenkrais lesson, you’re encouraged to pay attention to things you might think are superfluous. Perhaps you never even considered wondering when you get up from the floor which way you roll. If you never wondered about that, you certainly wouldn’t bother with the question of what you’re doing with your eyes when you roll. And who cares about your jaw and your tongue? We’re rolling, right? Not eating a sandwich.

Those little details seem superfluous because we haven’t noticed what they have to do with who we are. We’re often too tired, too rushed, to even consider them, and many people, this Feldenkrais practitioner included, experience some impatience when they lie on the floor quietly for more than a minute or two.

In that time, you think you know what you’re doing. “I’m lying.” Pause. “Okay, I get it, I’m lying on the floor.” Pause. “Lying on the floor in a room. A cold floor.” Pause. “Got it. Is this going to do me any good?”

What parts of your body do you notice when you’re lying on the floor?

“Lower back.”

Where does the floor seem to rise up to meet you?

“Hmmm...okay, just above my lower back, and way up in my shoulder blades.”

Is it the same on one side as another?

“Well...hmm...I guess it’s more on one side than another.”

Which side?

“Left. Left near the shoulder...right near the hip.”

You may discover why a part of your back on your left side protrudes when you roll, why the muscles seem to always be contracted there, and how those muscles are working or lying flaccid. You keep finding more and more details, the longer you listen to yourself. But what makes the Feldenkrais lesson special is that you’re going to discover how these details fit together and how to use them to improve your function. In doing so you will be able to become more present to your own experience of living. When, after one lesson or a hundred, you discover how you bring your back muscles into play when you roll, you may find you can make some active decisions about how to better use those muscles, decisions that may make rolling much easier than it was before. When you are able to roll smoothly, elegantly, and easily you will find that you have been using this movement in dozens of ways, from turning to look over your shoulder in the car, to scratching your back, to dancing or playing golf, and now you can make it easier than it was. Maybe you haven’t played golf or danced in a long time, and now you can once more.

Those little details only seem little because they’re not understood for what they are, parts of you and how you function in the world. Like the patch of grass, the direction that you roll is a piece of a larger picture of you that must be integrated. If you try to ignore these details, nevertheless they will remain in your world, burdening you like a numb weight, affecting everything you do and leaving you with a sense of powerlessness as they make particular activities more difficult.

When you improve your function, you better the quality of your life because you recognize how your sense of well-being is connected to your perceptual sense and to the ease of fulfillment of your daily tasks. In order to get a clear picture of yourself you have to slow down, notice how you act in certain situations, and get some good guidance on what to do with the information. I’m going to give you as much of that guidance as I can. Once you have it, you’ll find that becoming aware of the little things can create big benefits.

Watch yourselves.