Volume 2, No. 12 – January, 2004

Quote from Moshe: “Every time that we expand the limits of our knowledge, our sensibility and the precision of our actions increase and the limits of what is considered natural and normal also expand.” Awareness Through Movement, p. 87

Keeping Feldenkrais

When I was in my training to become a Feldenkrais Practitioner I experienced some extraordinary lessons, both in the class-setting and in one-on-one sessions with my trainers and with guest-teachers. The changes that I felt in myself were profound, mind-shattering, and felt wonderful! I would walk more smoothly, sit more comfortably, and see more clearly. After each lesson I was overjoyed because this was the way I wanted to feel for the rest of my life. I wasn’t going to lose this feeling, no sir.

But I did. Like a memory of a pleasant day, the changes slowly faded farther and farther from my experience until it seemed I was back to the old me. So the question came up in our training, not just from me but from everyone: “Why can’t I keep the lesson?”

I want to answer that question here, because when you understand why you don’t “keep” Feldenkrais, you are a step closer to recognizing what the Feldenkrais Method really is and how it works.

Throughout my life, I’ve hated being cold. I am tall and skinny and my hands rarely stay warm. The heat always seems to fly out of me, unless I bundle up in a heavy coat, hat and wool scarf. Atlanta winters are nothing horrible, typically 30’s and 40’s with occasional drops into the 20’s. Even so, I always found myself wanting to stay as warm as possible all the time, which was inconvenient in situations where I would be warming up naturally, such as during a jog or an outdoor t’ai chi class, or simply as the result of the temperature rising as the day wore on. I wanted to be able to tolerate the cold like I saw other people do, but that seemed like an impossibility.

Of course, Feldenkrais used to say, among other things, that his work makes the impossible possible, and even though the changes I experienced in my body did not at first improve my ability to stay warm, it did alter my thinking about how I relate to the cold. One skill I learned in Feldenkrais was differentiation, which teaches you how to separate one movement from a function in order to improve it. For example, you might do a lesson on how you eat and look only at the movement your tongue makes when you swallow.

I decided to differentiate not only body parts, but thoughts and feelings as well. I began to look at what I experienced when I was in cold weather. I found that there were actually several sensations. One was the physiological reaction to the cold. Another was my anger and impatience at being cold. When I noticed my emotional response, I began to wonder why I was angry and impatient in cold weather, and then I noticed a third sensation which I hadn’t recognized: fear. When I felt cold, I became afraid.

What was I afraid of? I thought about it, and I decided that I was afraid that if I got cold, I might not ever get warm again. Silly, I know, but who ever said fear was always sensible? It fit with my pattern of dressing so as to keep the heat in, so that I would never change my level of warmth.

I began to experiment with dressing less warmly and reminding myself as my temperature began to change that it was okay to get colder and then get warmer again, that I was not a static being but a dynamic one, capable of experiencing many levels of sensation and surviving the changes. Suddenly, magically, I found myself better able to tolerate the cold. Both in Feldenkrais lessons, and in my daily living, I wanted to hold on to a particular picture of myself. If I was warm or if I could sit comfortably, then I wanted to stay exactly that way for the rest of my life. But what brought me better tolerance of the cold, and better sitting, was an increase in my ability to relate to the world. Holding onto a pleasant sensation was the opposite, an attempt to shut out the world.

Imagine how ridiculous it would be if someone fed you and, having eaten your dinner, you expected to stay satisfied for the rest of your life. You might expend enormous energy looking for ways to keep that full feeling which might have nothing to do with feeding yourself, such as following the person who fed you. In the worst extreme, you might decide simply to eat all the time so as never to feel hunger again. What you really want is to be able to tolerate the sensation of hunger so that you can determine how much food and drink it takes to satisfy it. Once you decide that it’s okay to be hungry, you can develop an eating routine which will keep you healthy and energized.

Feldenkrais lessons teach you to be as present as you can at all times, no matter how afraid you are, or how happy. In this way, you’re not dependent on a lesson, or even a practitioner, to make improvements in yourself. If you notice the process of becoming more aware, you can start to find your way to that awareness more and more on your own. The better able you are to maintain your presence, the more you can improve your functioning on a daily basis by reacting appropriately, with the least amount of habitual interference, to the stimuli you experience all around you.

So keeping Feldenkrais is not keeping a more comfortable sitting position. Rather, it’s being able to sit in any chair at any time and understand how you relate to it, how you can sit in it, and what you’re going to do to get out of it.

Who Are They Now Dpt: Remember when I challenged all of you to bring Feldenkrais awareness to the table? Some of you took me up on it!

Okay, we did it. Three of us had our "Left Handed Lunch" lunch at the Left Bank Cafe. Our plan had been to order dessert first, but New Year's resolutions were still in effect, so we passed on that. Tea bags were strained using "non habitual" hands, and we all placed our tea cups on the left so we wouldn't forget. When lunch was served, one of my friends noted that I brought my fork to my mouth so the fork pointed perpendicular to my hand, while she ate with her fork more in line (I normally eat more in line when using my right). About half-way through the meal, she commented noticing herself giving a slight giggle or sigh prior to taking each bite. I asked if she was really sure she didn't do this all the time... The meal tasted fabulous. At first there was no conversation -- we were all concentrating. Our lunches are usually filled with chat, and we joked that maybe we should talk about left-wing politics during this meal. In one "Dr. Strangelove" moment, she captured and restrained her right arm with her left hand which was reaching for something. We all laughed. After chasing the last morsel around my plate trying to stab it with my fork, I was reminded of my first experience eating with chopsticks. We all agreed this experience was similar.

Later that evening, as I gobbled my supper while reading the newspaper, I'd stop from time to time and consciously taste what I was eating and think about how I had enjoyed EVERY bite of lunch...

Joanne Ritter, Petaluma

Wow! I've got to share that verbatim in the newsletter! You mind?

My next question is that, as you sit quietly sometime and contemplate the experience, can you feel a change occur in you right then and there? You recall the satisfaction, but is there a physical manifestation that goes along with the emotional response?

Adam