And what is the Feldenkrais Method again?
I’ve been trying to write down my experiences with Feldenkrais Awareness Through Movement®* lessons. I should probably just jot down my experiences because as soon as I try to write complete sentences and thoughts, I quickly run into some questions. Why am I writing this down? Who is going to read this? Just me? Is it my physical experience that’s interesting or all the other things that happen during a lesson? So I decided to write this about it. I’ve kept my notes on the physical parts to myself because they’re boring to read, even to me. But they’re a way for me to keep track of a certain aspect of my experience, so I wrote them down anyway though I suspect they’re the part of this that I won’t read again.
Today, ATM #42: Lifting the head/knee.
It’s hard to find words to say all that happens in an ATM
lesson or in the Feldenkrais Method®* as a whole. Moshe Feldenkrais
said that in so many words, and each time I read him or hear him (in audio
recordings) I’m re-impressed with the depth of that idea. I absolutely do not
hold the idea that words have no meaning—that we can’t pass ideas, feelings,
concepts, or sincere communications to each other—so therefore let’s not try. It’s
very worth it to me, or I wouldn’t be writing this. But it’s difficult to put
an experience into satisfactory words to convey an experience. Period. But then
it’s difficult to put into words an experience that’s new to me. And then
there is another step of difficultly because my new experience may or may not
have been had yet by the person reading. Moshe Feldenkrais said it’s like
trying to explain sex to someone who hasn’t experienced it yet. (Or that in so
many more provocative words.) It may be interesting to hear or read, but it’s
not anything like the experience.
This is the way I veered off in my notes to myself today because how do I write about my experience? I can say some facts that I noticed: (This is where I had that paragraph I mentioned. It ended with…):
“It’s worth noting that before I found that, the movement and flexibility of what seemed to me today to be my whole spine, I was first thinking of my knee, then my hip, then my pelvis. Then I moved my attention around to my head, shoulders, clavicles, ribs. I opened my eyes and moved them gently left and right while I was doing the movement, just to see what that would add, and to help me not fixate on the “parts” of me and to spread my attention around.
But maybe what’s more important than the particulars of what I noticed and what I did, is how they came to my awareness and how I treated myself while I was doing the lesson.”
Even in my notes to myself about the physical aspects of the lesson, the lesson is more than just that. I’m more than just that.
I was really looking forward to doing this Awareness Through Movement lesson. That’s usually how I approach these lessons but for some reason I often can’t get myself to lie down and begin. Today that wasn’t the case and maybe that’s because I keep doing these lessons and more keeps happening, so I’m pretty interested and intrigued.
So for instance, I’ve discovered something physical that I’d like to work on, an area of confusion that I have. Today I realize that doing one lesson probably isn’t going to fix this life-long habit or probably isn’t even going to change the particular physical concern I have. It will alter it in some way, but usually not in the way I might expect or it won’t happen how I might have expected. And me insisting on solving my physical problem, either through conscious intent or maybe inadvertently
This is the way I veered off in my notes to myself today because how do I write about my experience? I can say some facts that I noticed: (This is where I had that paragraph I mentioned. It ended with…):
“It’s worth noting that before I found that, the movement and flexibility of what seemed to me today to be my whole spine, I was first thinking of my knee, then my hip, then my pelvis. Then I moved my attention around to my head, shoulders, clavicles, ribs. I opened my eyes and moved them gently left and right while I was doing the movement, just to see what that would add, and to help me not fixate on the “parts” of me and to spread my attention around.
But maybe what’s more important than the particulars of what I noticed and what I did, is how they came to my awareness and how I treated myself while I was doing the lesson.”
Even in my notes to myself about the physical aspects of the lesson, the lesson is more than just that. I’m more than just that.
I was really looking forward to doing this Awareness Through Movement lesson. That’s usually how I approach these lessons but for some reason I often can’t get myself to lie down and begin. Today that wasn’t the case and maybe that’s because I keep doing these lessons and more keeps happening, so I’m pretty interested and intrigued.
So for instance, I’ve discovered something physical that I’d like to work on, an area of confusion that I have. Today I realize that doing one lesson probably isn’t going to fix this life-long habit or probably isn’t even going to change the particular physical concern I have. It will alter it in some way, but usually not in the way I might expect or it won’t happen how I might have expected. And me insisting on solving my physical problem, either through conscious intent or maybe inadvertently
fixing my attention on the physical part, only makes me
tense and a bit rough with myself, and therefore likely to move less of me, not
more of me. And moving more of me is often the solution and antidote to pain.
There are 5 lessons in a row that I’ve done on consecutive days so that maybe I can shed some light on this. (I was going to name it but then find it difficult: it’s pain in my left knee. But it’s related to how I move my pelvis. And my head. And my ribs. And my spine. And my eyes. And my attention. See what I mean? It’s hardly worth trying to pinpoint something I don’t know yet or am in the process of knowing, when I can just keep doing lessons and let them pinpoint for me.)
But what I know now is that by doing the lesson, something will shift. I’ll get a little insight that may or may not be related to my very narrow concern. But the insight is like a drop of water to a very thirsty plant. I guess it’s a desert dwelling plant since I can go for a long time and live very well without even a drop. After many of these drops, another thing happens. It’s usually different than the thing I expected, hoped for, started because of. Maybe the desert plant doesn’t grow but it flowers instead. Or the plant gets greener. Or it’s happier. The metaphor is too narrow though because I get to have all of it, and not in the way my previous experiences would dictate. If I go slowly… with attention… with persistence and yet an attitude of curiosity... I get to have an experience that I haven’t already had.
And this has become important to me. I may be interested in a physical malady or condition or change, but running behind it is this bigger and likely more interesting quest: how can I create the conditions in myself so that I have a new and different experience? That is perhaps one definition of The Feldenkrais Method.
*I put in the registered trademark signs because the guild asks for that, but I’m just going to do that once and anyone reading will know it stands for all the times I mention the method or any part of the method.
There are 5 lessons in a row that I’ve done on consecutive days so that maybe I can shed some light on this. (I was going to name it but then find it difficult: it’s pain in my left knee. But it’s related to how I move my pelvis. And my head. And my ribs. And my spine. And my eyes. And my attention. See what I mean? It’s hardly worth trying to pinpoint something I don’t know yet or am in the process of knowing, when I can just keep doing lessons and let them pinpoint for me.)
But what I know now is that by doing the lesson, something will shift. I’ll get a little insight that may or may not be related to my very narrow concern. But the insight is like a drop of water to a very thirsty plant. I guess it’s a desert dwelling plant since I can go for a long time and live very well without even a drop. After many of these drops, another thing happens. It’s usually different than the thing I expected, hoped for, started because of. Maybe the desert plant doesn’t grow but it flowers instead. Or the plant gets greener. Or it’s happier. The metaphor is too narrow though because I get to have all of it, and not in the way my previous experiences would dictate. If I go slowly… with attention… with persistence and yet an attitude of curiosity... I get to have an experience that I haven’t already had.
And this has become important to me. I may be interested in a physical malady or condition or change, but running behind it is this bigger and likely more interesting quest: how can I create the conditions in myself so that I have a new and different experience? That is perhaps one definition of The Feldenkrais Method.
*I put in the registered trademark signs because the guild asks for that, but I’m just going to do that once and anyone reading will know it stands for all the times I mention the method or any part of the method.
