Balance and Vitality

Something unexpected has happened since I started my AT sessions with Alexis. I've really started to enjoy music.

My first music teacher was this really scary nun, who walked with a cane. If ever you messed up, she would reach over her desk and drag you to the front of the class with her staff, by the neck, for some good old-fashioned public humiliation. My second (and last) music teacher was not a nun, nor did she have a cane. She nevertheless ranked no lower on the bogeyman scale, though her methods were more catty. So all things considered, I forgive myself for not being that big on music. I didn't even realize how much I had missed it.

During AT sessions we don't do anything remotely musical (thank god). It really is mostly sitting, standing, and lying down. Okay, I also talk my head off so it could be like therapy in that way, but I've always done that with very little benefit.

That is the toughest thing to explain about AT. The sessions are really simple and can seem rootless for a goal-oriented person, which I think most people are nowadays. You sit and stand and lie down, you leave feeling relaxed and a bit taller, but then you notice random changes when you least expect it.  

What a week. Without getting into too much detail, I had a meltdown and a good few days to myself scrutinizing my inner demons. Funny enough, Alexis had just lent me Healing Back Pain: The Mind-Body Connection by John E. Sarno as the latest installment of my self-improvement re-education program. In it, Dr. Sarno talks about how most back (or neck, or knee, or wrist, or whatever) pain is caused by unconscious negative emotions. Following my tantrum, I promptly developed a backache. So predictable!

I'd heard that very often, uncomfortable situations arise for students of the Alexander Technique. I can deal with the embarrassment and disappointment, as long as the event was triggered by AT. As long as it's a step in the right direction.

On the topic of the book -- It's an interesting read, even for people who don't have particularly bad back pain. Dr. Sarno says that contrary to popular opinion, the back is not a delicate structure that can be destroyed by sleeping on a soft mattress or by not bending the knees to pick something up, which made me question how AT fits into this line of thinking. If back pain is purely psychological, what is the purpose of learning the Alexander Technique, the cornerstone of which is correct sitting/standing? Alexis had an interesting take on this.

The way she sees it, AT isn't so much about sitting or standing as it is about centering oneself (though of course, good posture certainly helps). I agree that AT is centering. It's difficult to explain how sitting or standing can influence the way you think but... it just does. Maybe through making you question the basic things you always took for granted, like what "sitting up straight" looks like. Or maybe it's more about shifting focus from all the things that don't ultimately matter that much (annoying colleague, not having enough money to buy that bag) to the one thing that really does matter (you).

Did some more chair and table work today. Feeling light and relaxed.

The session started out innocently enough with some more chair work. Once I was sufficiently aligned and centered, Alexis brought out three slips of paper and told me to pick one. I did, with a silent prayer that it wouldn't tell me to improvise a skit or something equally horrifying.

I should know better by now. The Alexander Technique requires an open mind and little else -- no specific personality or body type, no special skills. It is always unintrusive, probably to prevent end-gaining (definition in "Session Five: End of the Summer Special"). In fact, sometimes the techniques are so indirect that you're not exactly sure what effect you're going for.

Case in point: on the slip of paper were printed these words... GOBBLING GARGOYLES GOBBLED GOBBLING GOBLINS. My tongue-twisting skills just about match my juggling skills. I barely got through the first attempt. We tried a few more times before the gobbling gargoyles were laid to rest.

The exercise managed to totally knock me off my center. I bobbed my head up and down ridiculously on each "g" sound, scrunched up my face and tensed my shoulders. As we went back to sitting and standing, Alexis told me to try saying a common-enough name, Peggy Babcock.

"Peggy Babcock," I enunciated.

"Now say it three times, faster."

"Peb...!"

The minute the slightest pressure was applied, I couldn't even get through the name once. We did that for a while, with Alexis holding my head in place. By the end of the Peggy Babcock training session, I was almost able to ignore the raging desire to rename her "Bagpipe" and leave it at that. Out came the gargoyle for one last try, and this time it was strangely feasible. I hope I'm not giving away all of Alexis' secrets here, but this Peggy Babcock thing worked like magic.

Anyway, to make a long story short, I can now understand why performing arts schools like to teach the Alexander Technique.

My tenth Alexander Technique session was not exactly an AT session at all. We decided that I could use some "energy work", which is difficult to describe but nonetheless pleasant. You lie down and let Alexis do all the work.

Because I am the new-agey sort, it was a supremely relaxing experience. If Alexis could put this "energy" in a pill, she'd be a gazillionaire. I was feeling warm and fuzzy and floating in and out of consciousness when something snapped sharply in my upper chest. (No, it wasn't a coronary.) It was the most bizarre and shocking sensation -- like someone had let go of a big, overstretched elastic band in the hollow between my throat and my lungs and my back. Heart chakra? Overactive imagination? I've stopped trying to figure out what it was.

The biggest effect that AT has had on my life is psychological; that is, it has somehow shown me my past from a completely different standpoint. When I look at what therapists of all sorts do, I always wonder how beneficial it is to rehash unhappy memories. Why re-live something again when it was horrible enough the first time?

My experience with AT has answered this question. Sometimes it is difficult to tell whether you are truly over something or just slapping a band-aid on a festering wound. For me, it has been helpful to see things from a fresh perspective so that I can really let it go and stop looking back.

I had my 11th AT session a few days ago, but that isn't what I want to talk about today. Instead, I'd like to talk about how I am really starting to feel results from doing the Alexander Technique.

First of all, my once-frequent headaches and backaches have been reduced to making a feeble cameo appearance maybe once a week. If and when it does happen, I lie on the floor in "Alexander position" and ask my back and/or head to quit it (the latter is an idea I picked up from a book recommended to me by Alexis, Healing Back Pain: The Mind-Body Connection). These tactics seem to work.

 Secondly, I feel like I have a new perspective on my life. I'm much more committed to doing what I want, rather than what I should (or worse yet, what I think I want). Somehow AT has made me stand back and analyze my situation from a place of semi-detachment.

Lastly, (and this is of course related to everything else) I feel that I am more centered than before. "Cool" will never be a word that someone would use to describe me but I am less prone to be at the mercy of someone else's whim.

Here's what I am talking about. A recent revelation suggested to me that I look for part-time work in a kitchen. Disregard the fear of getting stuck on a career track that normally does not pay well. Forget the fact that I've never done it and that I majored in Classics at university. I like food, I've been looking for stimulation and I've got extra time on my hands. Why not? And why hadn't I thought of this before?   

Today was my "audition". From 0730 until 1730, I peeled, sliced, served, cleaned, poured, got yelled at and trotted between the kitchens and dining room. Everyone was stressed out and blaming the new moon and eclipse for the neverending barrage of uncharacteristically aggressive customers. 

Strangely, I had a great time. While everyone around me argued and rolled their eyes and yelled into the telephone, I stayed in my quiet little world of cucumbers and whole wheat loaves and pats of butter. Even when I was loudly reprimanded, the words glanced off my skin. For someone who usually takes everything entirely too personally, this one incident was like achieving self-help nirvana.

At the end of the day, I was offered the position for my ability to "not do anything too terrible in the face of disaster". Having spent more than nine and a half consecutive hours on my feet, my legs were swollen and there was a dull ache in my lower back. When I got home, I rolled out the rug on the floor and lay down in Alexander position, feeling quite pleased with myself. 

Today Alexis introduced a new prop in my AT session: an oversized plastic ball. I lay on it, sat on it, bounced on it (while being pleasantly reminded of my favorite gadget of infanthood, the brilliant Bouncy Wouncy). The point of all this was to perceive the body in a different way, and sure enough, when I stood up I felt like a well-oiled Slinky -- there was a buoyancy that I imagine would be a tiny bit like walking on the moon (but much more subtle, of course). The bounciness in my spine lasted through my métro ride home.

Things like this remind me that reality doesn't have to be based on the rigid beliefs I cling onto every day. If I haven't even fully grasped the way my own body works, how could I possibly understand the potential the world holds?