Quote From Moshe: “We may observe how natural practices have gradually given way to acquired methods, to ‘professional’ methods, and that society in general refuses to allow the individual the right to employ the natural method, forcing him instead to learn the accepted way before it will permit him to work.” Awareness Through Movement, p. 27
When someone’s having a conversation with you, what’s the very first thing they ask you, maybe even before they ask your name?
“What do you do?”
They don’t mean, “What do you like to do,” or “What do you want to do,” or “How are you at doing what you do?” They want to form an opinion of you quickly to determine whether they will have anything in common with you. One of the ways we have devised to get a shorthand impression of someone is to identify them with their occupation.
“I’m a banker.”
“I’m a
baker.”
“I’m a Feldenkrais
Instructor.” (Lord help you.)
Is there anything wrong with this? What else are we supposed to ask? Why call attention to something that obviously serves as a very useful tool for communication between strangers?
No, I don’t think there’s anything really wrong with asking someone what they do. But the question does suggest something about the way in which we think of ourselves, as well as other people. Linking someone’s occupation, what they do in a certain period of time, with who they are, their fixed identity, creates a connection between something fluid and something solid.
What is a baker? A baker is someone who has probably undergone some training in the culinary arts, or has at least apprenticed themselves to another baker. This person has a certain amount of skill in baking. How much skill? That’s the question, isn’t it?
We don’t really care how much skill someone has as a baker, provided they feel confident telling us they can bake at a professional level. Whether they are a good baker or a bad baker is irrelevant to us unless we have to decide to taste their wares, a conversation for a later meeting. We want to fix their identity in our heads as “baker,” a solid thing which either is or is not.
This person is a baker. That person is not.
Just like computers, we deal with “yes” and “no.” Someone is something, or they’re not. We should recognize the significance of this idea. Having gotten in the habit of thinking of other people in this way, do we think of ourselves in this way?
I am a baker. I am not a baker. Okay, we can live with that, right? Either we are a baker or we aren’t, right?
I’m not so certain we do ourselves any good by thinking of ourselves as “something” or “not-something.” If we did, we would never really understand how to get from not being able to bake, to being able to bake a little, to being able to bake a lot. That wonderful spectrum of competence, and the ability to move along it, would be irrelevant in a scenario in which we “are” or we “aren’t” something.
Very often, we apply this type of thinking to something that’s beyond us. “I am not a piano player. Yes, I took lessons, but I was so bad that it became clear to me that I’m just not a piano player.” “I’m not a tennis player. I love the game, but I don’t have the ability to play it like I want to.” We even apply the “yes/no” idea to more basic definitions of ourselves. “I’m not coordinated.” “I’m not good with people.” “I’m fat.”
When our self-image becomes fixed, we lose the ability to grow and change that image, no matter how desparately we want to do so. If the fat person sees themselves as fat, they will only cease to think so when they become “skinny,” and as there is no real way for them to concieve of a middle ground, they are likely to remain “fat,” no matter what their weight.
Really, if you think about it, fixing our sense of identity is just a habit. When our idenity is “fixed,” we can use our mind to think about other things that we believe are far more important. Most often, these important things are simply wood that feed the fire of the fixed identity. We can think about how to amend our far-person wardrobe so as to look skinnier. We can contemplate our latest diet. All of these things with which we fill our mind go to the service of reinforcing the idea that we are one thing unless we’re another.
Moshe Feldenkrais believed that there was no limit to human improvement. Imagine yourself on a long road, continuous to both horizons. You’re neither at the beginning of that road, nor at the end of it, and you’re free to move along that path forever in the direction of improvement. So you’re not “uncoordinated,” you’re a person with a certain amount of coordination. If it’s less than you want, you can rest assured that you can improve it.
How much? Enough to satisfy yourself that you are “coordinated?” If you ask yourself that question, you’re already thinking “yes-no” again. In the service of changing one’s self-image, it doesn’t matter how much one has to improve, only that one is in the process of doing so. If you are increasing your coordination, even by tiny steps, you are living a better life than by resigning yourself to the notion that you are “uncoordinated.”
What can you focus on instead of your identity? How about focusing on what you want to be able to do? Instead of thinking of yourself as “uncoordinated,” think that you would like to be able to balance better on a balance beam, or juggle, or simply walk without falling. These abilities can be improved continually, and you enable yourself to better accomplish them by focusing on your improvement, no matter how small.
The Feldenkrais Method is designed to teach you how to listen to yourself, how to guage your own improvement while you are improving. A Feldenkrais teacher wants you to throw the fixed idea of yourself away and begin to imagine yourself in a much more useful way, as a person that can change, that does change every day, and that takes notice of that change, the better to direct it.
Can you see yourself having more compassion for yourself? Can you imagine being able to move towards any image of yourself that you might have, with the understanding that you will always be able to better it? Can you imagine yourself answering the person who asks you what you do by saying,
“I bake.”
Next time: How Can You Move Around By Using Your Eyes? Plus, the Usual Moshe Insight. Come Back and See Us!
© 2002 Adam Cole