Connections (and the Feldenkrais Method)

Image by MyEyeSees via Flickr

Every year, on Thanksgiving morning, I polish the family silver. This year, the task took on the power and meaning of ritual.

Knives, forks, spoons; dessert forks, butter knives, serving pieces. I soak everything in the kitchen sink in warm sudsy water. Then, with paste silver polish and that funny sponge that comes with it, I polish each piece, and then set it in the other side of the sink, in clear water. Some of the pieces are hardly tarnished at all, while others are very discolored. Each piece gets an inspection and at least a once-over with the silver polish. When I finish, all the silver is gleaming. It gets a final rinse in hot running water, and a last inspection before drying each piece with a soft cloth, then placed on the table. First the place settings, then the large serving spoons are staged about the theater. Dinner is show time and go time.

I've grown to love this chore, the older I've gotten. I remember my mother taking out the silver when my cousins and their parents came to visit for the holidays. The polishing was a task given to the children, and come to think of it, was probably the best way of keeping a bunch of kids busy and out of the way. This year, as I polished, I thought of all of those children. I also thought of my grandmother as a young bride. This was her silver, wedding presents given at the turn of the 20th century. She had five children and was married more than fifty years. She must have used this service countless times. Did her children polish it, or was it for the maid to do? Who sat around her table, sharing holidays and everyday meals with the family, year after year?

That's the thing about performing a mindless task -- your mind wanders all over the place. Random thoughts, memories, curiosities are evoked in the action, whether it's polishing silver or "chop wood, carry water." I felt connected, via the silver and the act of polishing, to the past, present, and future. The meal, the friends, their families near and far, on and on, all formed a dense web of interconnections through space and history that I could actually FEEL. Simple objects, actions, and awareness are the touchstones for reviving these connections. They help us -- me -- to recognize a profound sense of sacredness in the everyday.

As I pondered these connections, via silver polishing, I realized that the work of a Feldenkrais teacher is about helping people to make unexpected connections. The gentle movements seem kind of mindless and repetitive, and they usher you into a state where your mind can wander. Typical patterns are interrupted, and new sensations pique interest, curiosity, and appetite for more. People sense connections within their own bodies: for example, the way your feet contact the floor can be sensed in your jaw and neck -- and return to an almost childlike amazement at how "new" they feel.

The act of ritual doesn't have to be mindless or compulsive. Any action, repeated mindfully, can become a vehicle for improvement, possibility, connection, and creativity. The work of Moshe Feldenkrais is a method of intelligent, mindful action. Last weekend, it leaped up off of the floor and into my sink with the silver polish. I felt, and feel, extremely appreciative for all of it.

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Lessons from Pooh

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It's Monday morning.

I'd been up and working for about 90 minutes and still had not made coffee. Update the website. Send the newsletter. Answer that email. Take the call. Each led to something else, something off-task but on point for what was interesting to me in that moment. I had to stop and take a breath -- and then updated my Twitter Status:

"The hurried-er I go, the behind-er I get. #WinniethePooh #Feldenkrais "

It was a revelation, really; one of those moments of awareness that put everything into perspective. It doesn't matter how long or how short the weekend is. It doesn't matter how many deadlines loom. It doesn't matter how many clients are booked in for the day. ANYTHING and EVERYTHING feels worse when I HURRY.

Hurrying and rushing are two hallmarks of stress. One of my favorite sayings of Moshe Feldenkrais is that it's possible to move quickly, without hurrying. WOW.

Do you feel rushed, stressed, on edge? How much do the words "Hurry" or "Hurry up!" creep into your vocabulary? Hurry is an unhappy merry-go-round that makes you and everyone around you stressed out. However, it's not hard to shift gears and find a better way.

We've come to associate speed with competitive urgency, rather than the joy of ease and agility. Pooh had it right. Sometimes the best way to catch up is to slow down. Hurrying allows errors and inefficiency to creep in. Pay attention to the quality of what you're trying to do. Those old tricks we know of making a chore into a game, or counting your blessings, or just taking a short breather, all work because they interrupt the pattern of rushing and stressing. You can't experience things differently if you don't change the pattern.

What are your stress patterns?

The Right Combination

Recently I had the opportunity to revisit an interview of Moshe Feldenkrais on the subject of actor training and the benefits for actors in the Feldenkrais Method. And it got me to thinking -- how people of wide varieties of interests can benefit from these insights directed at actors. With the supremacy of specialization, we are highly likely to become trapped in the echo chamber of ideas that are virtually identical to our own. When I find something useful from another field, it brings a breath of fresh air to my own. (A link to the interview appears at the end of this post.)

And so -- one aspect that Dr. Feldenkrais and the interviewers discussed was the idea of relaxation. You may be familiar with the notion from athletics, acting, or music that the performer must "stay loose" or relaxed. We all know that we probably need to stress less, and well-meaning advice comes from all quarters to "relax." Yet, we know less and less how to do that!

We also view relaxation and stress as a binary, all-or-nothing function. We picture the caffeine-crazed, hair-standing-on-end, wide-eyed, wound-up, in-pain version of ourselves. The only alternative we can imagine is the semi-conscious puddle of goo, the wet noodle, the about-to-fall-asleep self. Feldenkrais draws some useful distinctions.

As Feldenkrais observes in the interview, the state of total relaxation is not very useful -- unless you are trying to fall asleep! If you were "totally relaxed," you wouldn't have enough get-up-and-go to accomplish anything. The Feldenkrais Method helps people to discover something he called "eutony:" the capacity to sense, with comfortable precision, the appropriate amount of muscular effort needed to accomplish a desired action. The undesirable choice between "Burn Out" or "Rust Out" is expanded into a much more practical and diverse spectrum of virtually limitless options.

Eutony, then, is something you recognize when you experience it. It actually feels -- GOOD. You might need some practice to find new choices for yourself, other than StressGirl or NoodleBoy. That's what our classes and lessons in the Feldenkrais Method are for. You'll find your own right combination of action, attention, and ease that makes all aspects of your life more enjoyable and sustainable.

Read the article, "Image, Movement and Actor: Restoration of Potentiality," a discussion of the Feldenkrais Method and Acting, Self-Expression and the Theater here.

Labor Day Weekend

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It's a lazy Sunday afternoon. The cats are asleep in the shade on the patio, and I've been flirting with the idea of a nap all afternoon. A little TV, a little reading, a little cooking. It's remarkably easy to entertain myself, and I hope to spend MOST of tomorrow completely "unplugged," disconnected from phones and computers. That will be a big change for me. I'm not sure I can do it.

The value of a long weekend is in being able to rest and relax. It's also an opportunity to have a change from routine: perhaps you sleep in, or get up earlier than usual for a special activity. A movie, a cook-out, a little trip or a chance to stay home -- any change in your habitual pattern can re-charge your energies. Your nervous system benefits enormously from these regular, but not too frequent, interruptions in the usual routine.

People often remark after their first Feldenkrais class that it wasn't what they expected. Yet, they don't say this with disappointment. They are curious, interested, and surprised at how easy, fun, and unusual it was. They are also fascinated to discover some new sensation, or ability, or capacity that they didn't know they had. The class provides the same benefits of a long weekend, but in condensed form. The break from routine, the discovery of the unexpected, the enjoyment of something different, keeps your body and your brain in shape, ready for the next challenge.

I hear the gentle rumble of thunder in the distance, and it's beginning to rain softly, a rain we really need. Maybe I'll take that nap after all. . .

Monotony/Mono-toe-ny

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There's nothing like completing a big project to make you feel -- like you've completed a big project. After I recover from the exhaustion, I will celebrate. But first, I need aspirin. Let me explain.

I spent the weekend doing the tedious but necessary work of transferring 160 digital products to a new shopping cart, part of the secret life of an e-commerce mogul. That's intended as an ironic statement, since I am a one-person, self-employed show. The project had been on the back burner for months, and an open stretch of time appeared. I hunkered down.

Luckily, there was not much typing. However, there was a lot of "highlight - copy - paste - next." Over and over and over and over. . . let's say, there was a pattern. It took me about two minutes to go through the entire process for each entry. That's a little over five hours on data entry. I spread the tasks over two days, took frequent breaks, and ended up with a fully-functioning and re-designed web site after about 15 hours at the computer. And I realized, once again, that humans are not suited for monotony.

I noticed the physical effects within the hour. My wrists and fingers began to tingle. My thumb began to hurt. Luckily, the only slave-driver boss I had to please was myself, and I'm a Feldenkrais teacher. I set a timer for 30-minute intervals, and made sure to get up and walk around for a few minutes during the breaks. I began to explore different ways that my "mouse wrist" could stay softly bent away from the mouse, rather than resting on the desk or wrist-rest. I also wondered -- am I using more force or power than is necessary? What was the least amount of "impact" needed for my finger to click the mouse, for my wrist and thumb to guide, for my hand to grip? I began to feel the connection of my hand to my whole arm, and to my shoulder, seeing where I could soften, and allowing my pelvis to shift and roll on my chair. I looked for small variations that I could incorporate so that my movements did not become rigid and rote. If I had not had this awareness and movement training, I could easily have gotten myself into some serious and long-term pain. These repetitive motion strain injuries are leaders among workers compensation insurance claims.

During my escapes to do errands, I noticed that I was mentally sluggish. I wandered around the grocery store in more of a daze than usual. I was preoccupied with the task back at the office, thinking of the monotonous pointing and clicking even as I surveyed the artichokes. I wondered -- am I too impaired to drive? I felt the pull back to the office. Must. Complete. Mission. Must. Click. Mouse.

The word "monotony" has the same origins as "monotone," or "one sound." Our nervous systems actually become "tone deaf" when we don't have enough harmonious stimulation, or several melodies to make the day's song interesting. Variety is the spice of life, and it's also what your brain needs to stay vital and engaged.

Those monotonous hours put my brain into a dulled, unresponsive state. As I was preparing for dinner, a big, heavy dish slipped out of a low cabinet and fell onto my toe. Had I broken my toe? This was not the kind of "break" I wanted to take! Now, my focus was even more "mono-toe-nus." After the required expletives, my throbbing toe dominated my senses, my awareness, my self-image. The pain from my toe was the brightest blip on my internal radar, and I felt like my entire body was just one, gigantic, throbbing, possibly broken, toe. Ice, please. More expletives. Elevate. Dinner.

The happy ending is -- the dish is fine. My toe is not broken, just badly bruised. A few aspirin and keeping it elevated has helped a lot. And, the computer task blitz is completed. I look forward to my Feldenkrais classes this week, to bring my self-image and my brain back to a harmonious state, free of monotony -- in every sense!


Photo by Chris Welsh, "MaryBeth's toe."

The website construction that led to my injury is DictionHelper.com . MP3 audio downloads of foreign-language pronunciation for beginning classical vocalists, resources for singers, and podcasts.

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You Wanna Talk Fireworks?

If you want to experience REAL fireworks, watch what happens when you try to change someone's routine.

Ooooohhh, LORDY! Stand back! And, unlike those displays you'll watch at the park, on your porch, or on the television later this week, the "fireworks" I'm talking about can happen suddenly, without warning, at any old time. And, it can happen to people who supposedly have this whole change thing DOWN. It's all cool, right, whatever? (Begin Twilight Zone theme. . .) People like you and me can go, well, a little bonkers. Ladies and Gentlemen, please allow me to recount a tale of my recent experience, which will shock and amaze you. What sets off your fireworks?

For the past two years, I've taught a Feldenkrais Awareness Through Movement class each week at the MD Anderson Cancer Center's Place. . .of wellness. The POW (as "insiders" call it, strangely appropriate this week, it seems!) is a wonderful place where anyone whose life has been touched by cancer can take advantage of free programs designed to reduce stress and feed the body, mind, and spirit. Yoga, Quigong, Acupuncture, and Feldenkrais Method classes have been regular fixtures for many years in this ground-breaking "complementary and alternative" wellness-based approach to cancer care. The POW hosts patients currently undergoing treatment, families and caregivers, and members of the community at large. I am privileged to be there, and I enjoy a cordial relationship with the regular staff. I really look forward to teaching my class there each week. I look forward to the experience, even though I must deal with (dun dun DUNNNNN!) The Medical Center.

Say, "Medical Center" to anyone who lives in Houston, and you'll get an understanding eye roll, or perhaps a shudder. It's the renowned Texas Medical Center, the largest in the world. The traffic is atrocious. The parking is expensive. For many people, just dealing with the place once is enough to send them, terrified, on circuitious routes to avoid the area. Yet, each day, countless people drive there and park, to spend an hour or the entire day dealing somehow with the realities of cancer. I used to become very impatient each week as I pulled into Garage 10, the one closest to POW. One day, I realized that the drivers were doing the best they could. They, or a loved one, are probably a patient, completely preoccupied with a serious life-crisis. Driving, Schmiving. It's the last thing on their mind. I've learned to chill out, breathe, and plan to spend extra time in the garage to make it to my class on time. However, I'd be fibbing if I told you I wasn't a little stressed out by my trips to the Medical Center.

So, last week, progress came to the Medical Center. The entire method of paying for parking has changed. You used to drive into the garage, push a button on the gate, and the machine would spit out a paper ticket with a magnetic strip. You had to take the ticket with you -- o god don't leave it in the car -- and later validate it and pay via a large machine in the lobby of the garage. Although I only mangled my ticket a couple of times, I learned the system, and even learned to joke about it with other sufferers. The kiosk's robotic voice sounded a lot like Stephen Hawking ("Your parking fee is Six Dollars. Please pay. With cash. Or Credit. Card."), which amused me, and I rather looked forward to talking to Stephen on my visits to the garage. Was he living in Houston now, inside that box? Or were we talking on the speakerphone? Whatever. Stephen and I had our thing. However, last Thursday, EVERYTHING changed. Or so it seemed.

I drove in the entrance, and the gate was different. I pushed the button, a new button, and a yellow plastic disc was dispensed instead of a ticket. What the hell? I put the token in my pocket, a bit shaken, but noticing the advantage of the non-mangling. When I was ready to leave, I inserted the token into a new machine. Although I was relieved that the experience of paying was about the same (the same slots were available for cash or credit cards), I quickly became rattled. Stephen Hawking was GONE! Did Stephen get fired? All that we had was now finished, just like that. Some new young guy is now in the machine. Oh, well.

Attendants were stationed in the garage lobby, and at the exit gate ("Just insert the token, Ma'am.") to help anyone who was on the verge of flipping out. I had to breathe. And I realized how I, even I, a helper of people who are in the midst of navigating change, was using my sense of humor to deal with a disruption of a routine I didn't even realize I had. Others were not able to access their sense of humor. They were perturbed. Some, explosively so. Apparently, we all attach to our routines. We notice when we must change.

The lesson is, a little perturbation is necessary in life to move us forward, and to help us to adapt to a changing environment. I'm glad I have my training in the Feldenkrais Method to help me play with change, discover possibilities, and enjoy my expanding capacities to do new things. Who knows? That new guy in the machine might be really nice.

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Strong Back, Comfortable Arms, Hands Skillful and Free: the Paul Rubin Houston Workshop

Paul Rubin, one of the original U.S. students of Moshe Feldenkrais, presented a workshop at NiaMoves in the Heights (Houston, TX) June 6-7. Twenty-one people attended, and the experience was transformational. Here are some of the responses to the workshop.

"I found the workshop interesting, fascinating and enlightening. . . When I got on my computer Saturday evening, I noticed that I was using my whole arm to move the mouse versus just the wrist. That was astonishing. At the office on Monday, I noticed that my whole arm was moving when I was mousing. The lesson was still hanging on. I enjoyed meeting and listening to Paul. Quite the storyteller and hugely interesting. Thanks for providing the opportunity to attend the class."

"It has been an unusual week after the workshop. I . . . thought I was prepared for the weekend activities --but was most surprised. The gentleness and subtleness of Feldenkrais is deceiving. It is very powerful work and has taken me several days this week to begin to process all that changed and I feel that I have just begun. The most significant thing I noticed is how much emotional baggage I carried in my body and that continues to release. . . ."

"I'm so appreciative that you brought Paul Rubin to Houston and that I've gotten to know him and work with him. Those two days were amazing in so many ways. First, I found myself feeling like a kindergartener again working on the floor mats. Being on the floor brought me back to a "nap time" remembrance of Kindergarten and how I was learning new things about the world, only this time I was learning about my body. The whole time was such a good mix of thinking self awareness and feeling awareness. It's hard to describe exactly, what changes have taken place. I know I have a much greater appreciation and self awareness of how I move in space and sensing my movement originating from my core, and also having a curiosity to see how my body does things. "

"There were many, many things I enjoyed about the day and ½ and how Paul Rubin teachesI think ….that I observed a brilliant method of providing opportunity to “anticipate” a movement “fill in the blank” with one’s own ideas too. . . >The weekend workshop has been on my mind frequently. Thank you very much. Here are my thoughts and observations. I have slept better since. ">When I put on my earrings Monday morning….I noticed that my right ear was higher than my left ear. Yes! I thought that I had “lifted” my right side out of my back and shoulder in the last set of movements on Sunday.I did a day of physical work on Monday…down and dirty…polishing the floors in my old house, which I do by hand and on my knees. I was able to be more aware of fatigue and tension and move in such a way that there is no pain.But more than that…..The thinking that Paul Rubin presented is so consistent with what I understand to be “a systems view of the body (including brain)”. And he put in words observations I still struggle to articulate. Which means I understood more deeply myself after the workshop. He has clearly integrated experience and science in a way that is very helpful."

"Thank you for organizing this workshop. You and Paul are wonderful teachers and now I have a little better sense about ATM and its benefits. My impressions during the workshop were more experiential than anything and a little difficult to describe in words. Enjoying the exploration of what felt comfortable and what didn’t during the lessons was very interesting. Also, noticing how my parts fit together (i.e. hand into arm into shoulder)"I had a dream early Monday morning that I was dancing an Irish jig! Very funny initially, but I was REALLY good -- LOL!!! In the reverie before I woke up, I had a visual of using my hands to go through the stacks of work on my desk. My visual also including prioritizing the work so that I was only dealing with the most critical issues first. Needless to say, Monday and today have been extremely productive for me."

Did you miss it? Paul will return to Houston in September. Dates will be announced soon. Be there, or, as they say. . .

Old Dogs, New Tricks

When was the last time you learned something new?

Now, stop for a moment. When you think about answering that question, do you feel 1) excited and eager to share, or 2) bewildered, searching to remember, or 3) clenched, thinking, "Enough with the learning already!" ?

Learning has taken a bad rap. I think this is because we think of "Learning" as something we have to do for a set period of time, as in the school years, during a university degree, or a formal class. The most highly valued evidence that this type of learning has been successful is performance on a standardized test. Somehow our culture sets us up to expect that one day we'll be done learning, and then will go do something real, or practical. Learning has been taken over by professionals whose emphasis is on teaching, or content delivery. Teaching in our schools, and the vast majority of inservice or corporate training programs are woefully one-sided and delivery-oriented. All too few are concerned whether the "target" (student) actually received, assimilated, and is using -- learned -- the content. I've been intrigued with this distinction between teaching and learning since I first read Carl Rogers' Freedom to Learn in the early 1970's. But I digress. . .

Rogers says, in part, that nobody can teach another person anything. All they can do is create the conditions so that the individual can learn for themselves. Think of the "force feeding" you may have experienced with your worst "educational experience." Contrast that with the joy, sense of accomplishment, vitality, and total absorption you have felt when you are truly engaged with something new that interests you. This is learning, true learning, and it can go on throughout your life. The evidence that this kind of learning has occurred is that behavior changes. You are doing something new, or doing something old in a new way.

This past weekend, I attended an event called PodCampHouston. Based on the BarCamp model, PodCampHouston attracted people who were interested in learning more about online media, or "new media;" specifically podcasts and video blogging. This was my second experience with the Camp idea, and it's unlike any workshop or conference I've ever experienced. In fact, it is promoted as an "un-conference," or more accurately, a "user-generated" conference. Each participant is encouraged to make a presentation! A white-board in the entry hall is marked with a grid, times on one axis and room availability on the other. You sign up for a time, announce your topic, and then people "vote with their feet" when the time comes.

Well, I took the plunge and signed up to present. Several people had expressed interest in my vocal coaching and movement work, so I thought I could probably riff for awhile on "You and Your Voice" for these budding broadcaster/podcasters. What a blast! Twenty-five people showed up, asked questions, and the room filled with animated conversation, connection, and laughter.

Moshe Feldenkrais said that anything you learn that stays with you in a profound and positive way was learned when you were having fun. At PodCampHouston, we met as friends and colleagues in an atmosphere of fun and mutual respect. We learned from each other, shared, and grew in the process.

I have two core beliefs that regularly pop up into consciousness. 1) You can do anything if you don't know how, and 2) Anything worth doing is worth doing badly. Remember what I said about learning changing behavior? Well, Sunday afternoon, I sat down at my computer and made my first video podcast series! It's called "You and Your Voice: Do I Sound OK?" and is taken from my presentation at PodCamp Houston. As with any new ventures, it's a first approximation. I don't have a fancy set or makeup artist. The six, 10-minute segments are basically just my talking head. However, I created some content, shared it, and I'll get better as I continue to learn more. Yes, it's a little scary to put myself out there. Yes, there will be criticism at all levels. Oh well. It was fun. I learned something. I'll do it again. So there.

Madeleine L'Engle wrote a book called "Walking On Water" about the creative process. She uses the metaphor of a vast and beautiful lake to represent the sum of all creative work -- every symphony, novel, play, invention, everything. She says you can't hold yourself to the standard of creating a St. Matthew Passion each time you begin your creative work. Your only job is to "feed the lake." Contribute something, even a trickle, from your small stream of creativity, no matter what it is. Accept, and feel satisfied, with that. You and your abilities will improve over time as you continue to "feed the lake." I love this image.

The Feldenkrais Method is a great way to jump-start your love of learning (real learning) and your creativity. It uses your own body, your attention, and gentle movement as the vehicle for developing awareness, fluidity in thought and action, and a sense of infectious curiosity. If this old dog can learn new tricks, so can you!

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What's In Your Junk Drawer?

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Do you have a "junk drawer?" Nearly everyone does.

Maybe it's in your kitchen, or the desk, or the hall table. It's the drawer where all the odds and ends, the useful bits with no immediate or obvious usefulness, end up. Perhaps yours contains some paper clips, string, a bottle opener, scotch tape, a key that you can't remember exactly what it opens, so you can't throw it away. "Twistie ties," a screwdriver that never makes its way to the toolbox. Got the picture? What's in your junk drawer?

This past weekend, Feldenkrais protegee Paul Rubin visited Houston for a two-day workshop. After an Awareness Through Movement lesson, one class participant asked, "What did I just learn to do? How is that useful?" Paul's answer was profound and evocative.

He used the metaphor of the junk drawer. Each of us has one, and if you think about it, you can probably do an instant mental inventory of what you might find there. Paul said, "And you know much more, and in greater detail, what is in your junk drawer, than you know your own shoulder, or neck, or self." Might it be at least as useful to know yourself, your body, your sensations, in as much detail as you know the contents of your junk drawer?

Just as you forget what's in the junk drawer until you need something in there, and rediscover it again, certain aspects of ourselves get "filed away" because of disuse, confusion, or experience. "I'll need this someday," we tell ourselves. It's in a crisis -- where is the allen wrench? Didn't I have a crochet hook? -- that we frantically search for the perfect, simple, and elusive tool that solves our problem. Likewise, the experience of a freely floating shoulder, an easy neck, or a flexible and buoyant spine gets "filed away" after years of sitting still in a school desk or before a computer screen. The gentle and pleasurable movements we experienced as children are "filed away" in our brains, waiting to be rediscovered. When your neck feels tight, you know you should relax or release -- but how do you do that? If you knew how, you'd have done it long ago. This information is in the junk drawer.

The Feldenkrais Method provides the means so that you can know and understand yourself as well as you know what's in the metaphorical junk drawer. Some of this knowing is below the level of consciousness or cognition. This knowing comes via your senses, your emotional tone, and your experiences in action. You're bound to find something handy -- a way to move without pain, to feel more alive, to improve a skill. Gradually, you might organize the "drawer" so that you can find what you need when you need it, and get rid of the stuff that is just clutter. Your brain, your movement patterns, your physical experiences, get loaded up with a lot of junk through the years. You can streamline, travel more lightly, and get reaquainted with yourself in depth and detail you never imagined. Then, just as having the right tool for the job makes all the difference, your movement patterns contain the clues to your peak performance potential.

Moshe Feldenkrais did not intend his work to be "naval gazing" self-absorption. Nor is the Feldenkrais Method "body work" as such. The Feldenkrais Method provdes tools for better functioning, for living the life you want to live, to the best of your ability. Why keep the good stuff in the junk drawer?

Rome Built in a Day?

"Rome wasn't built in a day."

I grew up on that proverb. My mother would say it any time progress toward a desired goal met an obstacle. I learned to have patience and a philosophical attitude toward life, and to value processes as much as achievements.

And now, someone HAS built Rome in a day. Read the story here.

How did she do it?

• She got a friend to help her. Projects are much less daunting when you're not alone.
  
• She scaled down "the ideal." It looks like her Rome fits on a table top, and she used paper and wood.
• She approached it as play, with curiosity. She didn't know how it would turn out.
• She lowered her standards. She created something that pleased herself. She's apparently not too worried about what anyone else thinks of it.
  

This story appeals to me because it resonates with the Feldenkrais Method. Although the work has many benefits for people who desire pain and stress reduction, and improvements in posture, coordination, and well-being, I also value this work as a method of learning and problem-solving. The Feldenkrais Method is useful for anyone who is dealing with overwhelm, or even with just "whelm." We have so much on our individual plates -- work, family, relationships, deadlines, projects, goals, physical issues -- that easy proverbs and platitudes lose their ability to encourage us. The Feldenkrais Method teaches a comprehensive approach for thought combined with intelligent action.

• The teacher or practitioner is not in the role of "therapist," but rather more like a tour guide. I'm there to help, to witness, and to acknowledge. I've got a map, and I know the landmarks of your experience. There's much you can do for yourself with this type of assistance.
• By "scaling down the ideal," the task, whatever it is, becomes more manageable. Remove your pre-conditions and pre-judgments, and see what happens. Many small steps lead surely to your goal. Celebrate each one. For example: you don't have to redesign your entire filing system TODAY. Spend 5 minutes trashing the junk mail. Want to keep something? Find, or make a file folder and file it. You've made progress.
  
• Get curious and "muck about." Experiment and explore. You will find unexpected resources as you go. You'll discover how creative you are.
• By "lowering your standards," you make space for change to begin. If everything has to be perfect, or nothing -- frequently you are left with nothing. Action stalls out under the judgement of perfection, and always comes up short. Anything worth doing is worth doing badly. After you have begun, you have surmounted the biggest obstacle. Improvement is inevitable.

Whether you are a skilled high-achiever at the top of your form, or a person with serious challenges, you can benefit from working with the Feldenkrais Method. As you become more aware of what you are doing, you become more adept, more adaptable, more effective. You can "build your own Rome," whatever that looks like. Let's get started!

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• To Go Harder, Go Easier (malepatternfitness.com)

Star Wars, or whatever

We live in a Cliff Notes world. The executive summary reigns, "just the facts, ma'am," Reader's Digest Condensed Version, bottom line, get to the point! While useful in some contexts, in others, it can have hilarious, or disastrous, consequences. Take a moment to watch this skillfully edited funny short video. (3:43) "Amanda" gives an executive summary of an executive summary of the epic Star Wars saga. As one commenter said, "So close, and yet, so far, far away!"

I can see why Joe and Amanda are friends. She is a delightful AIRHEAD! Granted, she hits the high points of the Star Wars trilogy. (My favorite quote from the video is, "They blow up the Death Star, I said that, right? That's important.") The whole point is that Amanda has never seen any of the movies, but "she already knows what happens." Or, she thinks she knows. Gaps in her understanding are subsumed under the general category, "Whatever." I could riff for awhile about how Star Wars is iconic in our culture, go all "Joseph Cambell-y" on you-- but that's not what interests me at the moment. I'm thinking about times when we think we know about something, so that stops us from really knowing about it.

Knowing "about" something, as in knowing that it exists, is a theoretical, abstract way of knowing. Abstraction is, by definition, non-specific. It's easy to get into very muddy waters in the world of the abstract, or to go "far out," even farther than that mythical galaxy far, far away.
Most people have some need for clarity, for the specific, and for the experiential. True understanding can't come without depth. We long for the abstract to be made concrete.

Moshe Feldenkrais was interested in the relationship between thought and action. He used body movement as his laboratory in which to explore and observe. Over and over again, he saw in himself and others, that often we are certain that we are doing something that, in fact, we are not. Or, certain that we are NOT doing something, but we are. Why such a gap? HABIT. Our habitual ways of being and doing in the world make it difficult to see something new, or see it from another perspective. Instead of focusing on anatomy or pathology, Feldenkrais' work focuses on function, and on how functioning can be improved. As you pay attention to what you are experiencing, clarity and concreteness emerge from the physical, mental, and emotional fog.

When you stay in the present moment, and become aware of what you are experiencing, suddenly life gets a lot juicier. If the quantity is high, and the quality is low, you might as well get through it quickly, and with as little involvement as you can get away with. However, when the quality improves, it's worth spending a little more time to savor. It's worth spending a LOT more time. How would you like to spend your time?

We're surrounded by jargon, technology, and continuous streams of information. We think we already know what we're doing, which keeps us from exploring whether or not our actions are creating the desired consequences. In Feldenkrais lessons, movement becomes metaphor, and new possibilities for better clarity and quality emerge in other aspects of life as well. The key to sifting through the vast amounts of "stuff" that comes our way is to take time to discover and improve the quality of the experience.

Hmm. . . might have to rent the Star Wars trilogy from Netflix and fill in the gaps in my own memory and understanding! I know there is more to perceive and enjoy in the process. "Whatever" can never supply the depth necessary for appreciating nuances, relationships, and the next creative step forward.

But it was just a tiny fire. . .

Sometimes, the unexpected happens.

Saturday morning, during our weekend "Brain Spa" event, the guests were engrossed in the morning activity. Casually, Vanessa looked up and said, "Does it smell kind of smoky to anybody else?"

You can imagine what happened next.

It was a cold morning, and the space heaters were on, so we stopped and sniffed. I remembered that a ceramicist had a studio next door -- might it be her wood-fired kiln? Suddenly, we heard banging on the front door. A man and woman opened the door and came in. "You guys have to get out of here! There's a fire upstairs! We've called the fire department! Get out now!"

As we stopped what we were doing, we grabbed whatever we could carry on the way out as the sirens screamed in the distance. The Houston fire department was on the scene in about two minutes -- outstanding. Neighbors gathered, additional units arrived, all watched the billowing smoke from the residence whose tenant was away on holiday. We heard later that the fire was something electrical, from the air conditioning system, but they are still investigating. The fire fighters clambered up ladders, onto the roof, onto the balcony. The fire was quickly extinguished. Luckily, nobody was hurt, although one unit certainly sustained some damage.

That was a little more excitement than we had planned for a relaxing day of Feldenkrais movements and cognitive "rebooting." However, everyone adapted to the situation at hand. Why are some people successful at adapting to current conditions, and others aren't?

Life doesn't always go along smoothly, and things don't always turn out exactly the way you planned. It is simultaneously true that humans need a secure, safe environment within which to grow and thrive; and that humans who are sheltered from life's realities are ill-equipped to deal with them when they arise. It's as if all those little "bumps in the road" serve to give us practice in the business of survival and creating quality in our lives. You can either give up, or adapt and go on.

So, standing out in the parking lot, watching the fire trucks, the smoke, and the work in progress, we made our plan. We decided to go ahead and take our lunch break, even though it was only 10:30 a.m. Everyone reconvened back in our home after lunch for the remainder of the day's activities, and it worked just fine. Chris and I went back to the venue that evening to check on the status. There was no damage to the part of the building we were using, although it did have a slight smoky smell. The odor was pleasant, like a distant cozy fireplace, rather than the stale cigarette smell of a bar when it opens. We were able to complete the third day of our program back at the venue.

Feldenkrais lessons provide opportunities to develop your ability to adapt, and to thrive; to innovate, create, and enjoy what comes your way. Within each lesson of easy, gentle movement patterns, a constraint appears. For the moment, you feel limited, blocked, challenged. Is the constraint an impediment, or an advantage? The constraint can be the key to unlocking the mystery of the movement, the pattern, the difficulty. Higher functioning results, and a good time is had by all. It's not about strength, power, forcing, or determination. Rather, it's about awareness, sensitivity, resposiveness, and options. The Feldenkrais Method is an extraordinary model for problem-solving, in any setting.

We love our Brain Spa venue, and our new friend who allowed us to use his space. We'll be meeting there again, grateful that it's still there to use and enjoy. However, our future clients will just have to understand: the fire will not be included in future programs!

Life in Legos

My son was a big Lego fan as a kid, and he probably still is. At every birthday, Christmas, or other special occasion, all he wanted was Legos. I still understand why: building is fun, and building with Legos is REALLY fun. Pieces large and small can all fit together in myriad ways, limited only by your imagination.

Several years ago, I visited the Mall of America outside of Minneapolis. One of the features was a huge Lego City, with skyscrapers at least 10 feet tall, houses, cars, and an airplane overhead-- all made of the little Lego blocks. All the passers-by were stunned at the sight, as was I. My unspoken thoughts: "I'm so glad my kid doesn't have enough Legos to build this at home!"

I was delighted this week to find another demonstration of Lego creativity and whimsy. OK, silliness. Someone has paid homage to the world's most recognizable artistic masterpieces, recreating them in Legos. My favorites are the Warhol send-up and the Magritte, but you may prefer the Mona Lisa or The Last Supper -- in Legos, mind you. Click here to see them all.

To build with Legos, you have to start out with some idea of what you want to build, either from the picture on the box, or in your own imagination. Indeed, anything that shows up in the material realm, from a Lego creation, to a spacecraft, or a musical composition, has to begin as an idea. With Legos, you frequently assemble smaller sections and then fit them together into the larger whole. Kids begin to learn this process of problem-solving through building. Most people don't realize that movement -- any movement of your body in space -- is also determined by the ideas you have. In the language of Moshe Feldenkrais, "We act in accordance with our self-image."

Feldenkrais classes and lessons are fundamentally different from exercise, therapy, or treatment protocols that you may be familiar with. Moshe Feldenkrais said, "What I'm after isn't flexible bodies but flexible brains. What I'm after is to restore each person to their human dignity." Feldenkrais lessons shape your ideas about movement as you experiment with actual movements. Ideas can be limited, or limiting. You might not have enough Legos, or too much of a shape or size block that won't let you build what you want, the way you want to build it. By introducing non-habitual movement patterns, your brain makes new connections -- and movement becomes easier, more comfortable, more capable. You begin to see yourself in new ways. You build on what you know, and what you have. Something new emerges, sometimes as a surprise!

Work in the Feldenkrais Method can ease pain, improve function and performance, restore lost capacity, and reveal new possibilities, in movement and beyond. Profound changes concurrently take place in your thinking, in the way you view yourself, and the way you make contact with the world around you. Your potential is virtually limitless. Even better than Legos.

Blackeyed Peas

It's a ritual in my family, handed down from my Arkansas mama in our suburban-Chicago kitchen when I was growing up, and handed down to her through generations of southern cooks. I've passed along the cultural and culinary imperative to my children as well. We eat blackeyed peas on New Year's Day.

I accept this tradition without question. When I was growing up, we did not enjoy the multiculturalism or diversity that we take for granted today. Eating blackeyed peas up north was kind of weird back then. We are also blackeyed pea purists. No "Hoppin' John" for us, no cooking them with jalapenos or anything else funny. A little bacon, or maybe ham (omitted during my vegetarian period). Some onion. Salt and pepper. Water to cover, boil, simmer, let them cook down. I've added a few simple innovations through the years. Chicken stock, or beer, or both, for part of the liquid. A couple of tablespoons of cumin tossed in. If I'm using bacon, I cut it into small pieces and brown it in the pan before I start. I drain off most of the bacon fat, give the pan a shot of olive oil, and then saute the onions until soft. I add the cumin, salt and pepper, and just a little stock to get all the good stuff off the bottom of the pan. Then, in go the peas, covered with liquid. They don't take long to cook. You can eat in about an hour, but they can keep cooking all day if you have a lot of people through.

We also serve the peas drained. No soupyness. They shall be served with pickle relish. Also pretty good with some fresh chopped onion. Ham and cornbread round out the menu. WHY do we do this? It's the insurance policy for good luck in the coming year.

Even though it's against everything I was brought up to believe, I do understand why cooks would be tempted to go all fancy with a blackeyed pea recipe. People devoutly defend their preferences as a matter of faith, which it is. Additions of rice, cream, peppers, exotic spices -- well, it's not my style. What nobody really comes out and tells you is, blackeyed peas have no flavor. None. None of their own, anyway. If you're expecting a flavorful dish, you'll be disappointed. The fancier the recipe, the more obvious the fact becomes. Better to just go pretty plain.

So I got to thinking that blackeyed peas are the perfect food to start out a new year. I remember my mother emptying the bag of peas into her hand to rinse them as the water ran into the colander. She went through, pea by pea, because there might be some little rocks in there, and you don't want that. I do the same thing. The flavorlessness of the peas reminds me that they, and the year ahead, can be bland and boring, or they can be a feast. I think of my maternal grandmother, visiting us for New Year's when I was about seven, piling on the pickle relish like there was no tomorrow. She went for it, and so should we all. You have to add what you like to make it tasty, nourishing, fulfilling. The blackeyed pea, like the year ahead, is the tiny tabula rasa, the blank slate, waiting for your contribution. As Moshe Feldenkrais said, "Trust yourself to work out what is right for you."

Have you some peas, now. And a Happy New Year!

You Won't See These in 2009

What do Bill Blass, Polaroids, and Chocolate-Cherry Dr. Pepper have in common? All will be moving on in 2009. (Click here for the complete list.) Having run their course, become obsolete, or just wanting to try something different, they will move aside to make room for The New, whatever that is.

Even people who are not particularly introspective will take the opportunity at New Year to take a personal inventory. We make our resolutions like sorting through a crowded closet: most people occasionally see the need to clear things out, and we use certain universal criteria. What don't I wear anymore? What has gone out of style? What needs to be pitched? What do I love?

People are at their most ambitious around New Year's Resolutions. We are pulled toward the grand statement and the bold gesture. We love the drama of the complete overhaul, especially if it comes with great sacrifice. Because of our love of overdoing, most New Year's resolutions are not sustainable. Any new behavior, whether we're starting something or stopping something, has a learning curve. Behaviors are learned, and get better with practice. It's no surprise, then, (since I'm a Feldenkrais teacher) that I favor incremental action, baby steps, and successive approximations as a way of sustaining our good intentions of the new year. If you learn as you go, and make small adjustments along the way, you'll vastly increase the likelihood of success. We can return to the image of cleaning out a closet.

"What don't I wear anymore?" Has anything become obsolete? This question doesn't just apply to articles of clothing. It can apply to your total self-image, and thus to your actions. What groups do you belong to, but never attend? (Include online groups as well as in-person.) What about all the email newsletters, blogs you read (including this one)? What about your relationships, clients, activities, beliefs? Anything just "taking up space," bandwidth, energy? Anything no longer useful, or fun, or joy bringing? Pass them along, throw them away, make a decision.

"What has gone out of style?" What has just run its course? That was then, this is now. Is there anything you keep doing, "Just Because?" All forms of over-indulgence can go here. It's fashionable to think of eating, spending, or things in the "Vices" category at New Year's. How about overworking, over exercising, spending too much time online? Realistically, it's not like we can stop anything completely. We must eat, we must spend, we must work, we must exercise. Our resolution can be to be more mindful about the quantities and make actual choices rather than staying on auto-pilot. Who do you want to be this year?

"What needs to be pitched?" Anything broken, and not fixable? Threadbare and worn? Recycle and reuse what you can, but let go of the rest. In movement, we can discover patterns that emerged long ago, after a physical or emotional injury, that helped us to deal with the pain. The guarding here, the holding there. The slump or slouch, the ramrod-straight back. Shallow breathing, muscles tensed. The pattern remains, although the danger has passed. It takes special awareness to shift away from these unconscious patterns of action.

"What do I love?" What can't you do without? What's really worth the investment of your time and attention? What would you like to make even better than it is now? What would you like to explore, discover, enjoy?

At the end of the process, you will have less "stuff," but more happiness, satisfaction, pleasure.

Moshe Feldenkrais was one who observed that the difference between the person who has mastered a particular discipline, and the person who is incompetent. Oddly, the difference is not in the level of skill, or dedication, or focus. Incompetents are often highly skilled, committed, and single-minded in their quest for achievement. The difference is, the incompetent person is always doing more than is necessary, usually unaware of this fact, and thereby gets in his own way. The master's efforts are efficient, streamlined, almost minimalist in comparison. Nothing is wasted, everything is conscious. It seems so counter-intuitive to us that we can achieve our goals by learning to do less. I like to think of each Feldenkrais lesson as being a little laboratory experiment, where I can learn how to reduce the effort, the noise, the stuff. Is it any surprise that everything works better, looks better, feels better, when the way is clear?

Perhaps you'll develop your own personal list of "Things You Won't See in 2009." What you WILL see in 2009 is the continuing presence of the Feldenkrais Center of Houston, and the Feldenkrais Method worldwide. We look forward to assisting you in your learning in the coming year!

Less, and More

One of the recent additions to my work and play life is an online social media site called "twitter." The site and its associated culture are a phenomenon, hot and getting hotter. As a participant, aka "twitterer," you agree to an interesting constraint: all posts to update the status statement, "What are you doing?" must be 140 keystrokes or less. To give you an idea what that is, if this paragraph were a twitter update, it would have stopped after the word "culture" in the second sentence. (Actually, that's 138 keystrokes.) You see the challenge?

Yet despite this constraint, millions of people worldwide now twitter. Within the 140-keystroke limit, known as a "tweet," twitterers share business and personal resources, music, movie and restaurant reviews, publicize upcoming events, comment on the news, ask and respond to questions, compliment and acknowledge their friends, and offer support in trying times. I've been amazed at the creativity and humor that are able to flower under this constraint, and at how large my world is becoming, getting to know people 140 keystrokes at a time. Twitter is growing because of this limitation, not in spite of it.

You can't help but notice: in 140 keystrokes, you have to make your point quickly. You don't waste strokes on unneeded spaces or redundancy. You use short words and abbreviations. You don't try to say everything you know about a subject. Now that it's the holidays, I've had an amusing cocktail party fantasy: cornered by the creepy office guy or the inappropriate sales pitch, escape is just 140 keystrokes away. THAT could be a wonderful world. . .

You don't need to worry: the tweet will not replace the doctoral dissertation, nor the great novel. Moshe Feldenkrais often showed how behaviors that are useful in one situation are not necessarily useful in every situation. Twitterers realize this fully. Each tweet is an introduction, a curiosity-inducer, and an invitation to sample more in another format, like a someone's blog or another website of interest. Feldenkrais based his work in movement and human development around the exploration of constraints, and the power of SMALL actions. (You can click here to download some short examples in audio mp3 format.)

I've learned through exploring constraints via the Feldenkrais Method, that a constraint is neither good, nor bad: it just IS. Now what will you do? Your habitual pattern of action probably won't work under the new conditions. What else could you do? Is there another way? Slowly, easily, gently, humorously, a little bit at a time, something new, interesting, and useful emerges. A new possibility is created.

I think both twitter and the Feldenkrais Method have a lot to offer us now, in what many acknowledge to be difficult times. A constraint can be a limitation, but only if you struggle against it and keep doing what you've always done. Small changes, added incrementally, mindfully, yet lightly, can make a huge difference. In problem-solving, you might be tempted to spend your energy on removing the constraint. This may or may not be possible. A more interesting solution is to work with the constraint, embrace it, and let imagination and experimentation reveal new possibilities.

If you take the long view, life itself is a "tweet." We have one life, or one life right now, depending on your viewpoint. If it's just going to be 140 keystrokes, how do you want to spend them?

Follow MaryBeth on twitter: http://twitter.com/divamover

What I Want

Time was, you didn't discuss religion or politics, ever, except with people with whom you were intimate, and except if it was your job, like if you were a political commentator on TV. That's the way I was raised, and it has some practical value. I generally keep my views private, especially in professional or social situations. My job is to create conditions where people are able to learn something new about themselves. If I express my belief, and my client agrees with me, then all we are doing is reinforcing a habitual pattern. If I express my belief, and my client disagrees with me, then I've just put her in a position where she must resist and defend. Neither path creates conditions for real learning.

In the last several weeks, I've been fortunate to be able to learn from two of my peers visiting Houston. Fernanda Zamar, from Argentina, was visiting family and initiated a get-together for Feldenkrais exchange. Last week, Thomas Spring, a Feldenkrais teacher from New Zealand, was visiting Houston. I've been amazed at how much we had to learn from each other. It's interesting to experience another teacher's touch, to hear how they express themselves, to listen and observe the ways they bring and give attention during a lesson. After meeting and working with them, and learning from each other, I know that I have grown.

I have a magnet on my fridge that says, "Always make new mistakes." After all, if you keep making the same mistakes, it's a pretty good sign that you're not learning from them. It takes no talent, imagination, or originality whatsoever to keep doing the same thing. A mistake is the risk you take for trying something new. It's an opportunity to learn. It can even be an opportunity to explore a familiar idea, but in a new way. In this sense, Feldenkrais work is like live music. Even if you play or hear the same piece several times, it's never exactly the same. The audience, the moment, the acoustics, the emotional background of the experience all influence the final outcome in subtle and profound ways.

That's what makes it difficult to answer a seemingly simple question, like"What does Feldenkrais do for bad knees?" or back pain, or carpal tunnel, or anything? It's hard to answer, because lessons are not a pill or a protocol. The Feldenkrais Method is a remarkably ingenious way of interacting with people to help them discover new possibilities in any arena of their choosing. Since every person is different, I must constantly adapt to their needs, their learning style, and their sense of progress and accomplishment. If I don't adapt to and learn from my client, he won't be able to learn from me.

Developing your own ability to learn and adapt is your best strategy for making it through turbulent times. Learning doesn't stop when you leave your formal education. Learning is necessary to be able to use new information that can benefit you in business, in relationships, in your own health. Learning is necessary to keep pace with technological innovation. Technology shapes our lives in myriad ways. Our survival as a species through millennia has depended upon our ability to learn. Without the ability to learn, we go off-course quickly, put ourselves in danger, or become obsolete.

Here's my bias: I was an academic for over a decade. My frustration was that the emphasis was on KNOWING rather than LEARNING. The only way to "security" was to know everything. To admit that you didn't know everything, by pursuing opportunities for learning, was professional suicide. I never understood why They thought learning was a threat to knowing--didn't they support each other? Well, I'm no longer in academia, for a variety of reasons. I felt too constrained, and a majority of my colleagues felt I was not constrainable enough. The experience left me with my perception that KNOWING is static, unchanging. LEARNING is a dynamic process. Here's an illustration for you. A few years ago, I was clearing out storage boxes and bookshelves, and came across the family set of Encyclopedia Brittanica, purchased proudly in 1960. I thought for sure there would be some collector's value there, but the reality check came when I was advised that it was so outdated, I'd be better off just taking it to recycling. I couldn't get a penny for it. The major compendium of knowledge for 1960, now worthless. Today the world is changing so rapidly, information is out of date as soon as you print it. So for me, I'd rather be learning.

Which brings us back around to politics. So much of the discussion has centered around "who knows more," or less. Indeed, knowledge is vitally important. If I didn't value it, I wouldn't have stayed in academia for so long, and I wouldn't have held on to that old set of Britannica. As I look at the world, I see vast unpredictability. I want a leader who is a learner.

More Soup

Soup! I love to make soup, especially when the weather turns cooler and the fabulously redolent smells fill my kitchen. The next soup I make will be one of my favorites for this time of year, a pumpkin and squash combination with Indian spices that tastes so creamy without one drop of cream in it. I don't think I even have a recipe for it. I just throw it together, and consequently it's a little different each time, but always delicious and always deeply satisfying. I like knowing what's in my food, knowing that it's fresh, and knowing that food prepared with love tastes different than food without.

A new soup recipe is always an adventure. The first time I make soup, I follow the recipe to the letter. Well, not exactly. Once I get into it, I can tell that I'd rather use vegetable broth than chicken broth, or vice versa; I can get by with adding less salt. I know there's no such thing as "too much garlic" at my house. But I don't substitute ingredients, or experiment with variations, until I know what the basic recipe is and how I like it. Over time, I've learned which recipes are trustworthy as-is, and which one's I'll need to jazz up a bit. And, I've learned enough basics of soup-making that I can extemporize and come up with something edible, and often sensational.

I made a new recipe for the Book Salon last week. It was one of the recipes from an NPR piece about autumn soups, and so I went to the website and printed off all the recipes described. First up was a mushroom soup that sounded just perfect. Along with the onions, carrots, potatoes, and barley, the secret seemed to be a handful of dried porcini mushrooms, which made the plain-Jane mushrooms perk up and rise to the occasion. The aroma of that soup cooking was amazing. (Since our book this month was "The Emperor of Scent," we HAD to smell wonderful.) Our guests gobbled it down, and the soup was mighty tasty. But, to me, something was missing.

The soup was earthy and rich and delicious. I thought the taste was too "dark," with too many "low notes." In musical terms, it was heavy on the trombones and cellos, and all tasted like accompaniment to me. I wanted a voice, an oboe, or perhaps a triangle pinging to lighten things up and bring some focus. It needed something acidic. In leftover homemade soups, you can tweak the recipe for the next meal. Overnight, the flavors marry and the taste is more refined, without the rough edges. The solution to my low note dilemma with the mushroom soup was to add some seasoned rice vinegar, one of my favorite, must-have, pantry staples. The effect was immediate and miraculous. There was now a clear, high note, a little tart and a little sweet, and suddenly the other flavors sprang to life! There was harmony in my bowl.

Everyone has individual tastes and preferences. Now that I know this recipe, I can make it completely vegetarian if need be, or leave out the onions if I make it for my friend Martha. The important thing is not the exactness of adhering to the recipe, but the experience of dining with friends, of good conversation, and of pleasure. Makes you want to have a second helping.

I have several clients who have come to me because traditional solutions to their problems have left a bad taste in their mouth. Too much discomfort, and too little progress have made them curious to find out if something else is possible. Often they get a delightful surprise. Rather than being a diner, held hostage in a restaurant where they don't like the food, they find that they are the chef! They learn the basics of organizing a way of moving that will nourish them. With the basics, they can learn to move in ways that will reduce the likelihood of further injury, and return to activities they enjoy at higher levels of functioning.

Each Feldenkrais lesson is like a "movement recipe." What would you like today? Just as my friend knows that onions are not for her, there may be some movements that are not for you. To feel yourself move, in whatever way or range is possible for you in this moment, is the beginning of awareness, and an appetite for more.

Tell Tale Signs

As I sit here typing, I'm listening to a Bob Dylan marathon via streaming audio. I've been a Bob Dylan fan for years. When I was in the sixth grade, I began to learn to play the guitar as an aspiring "folkie." I could play and sing "Blowin' In the Wind," "The Times They Are A-Changin'," "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right," and other songs that stirred my WASPy Midwestern suburban pre-pubescent heart. I was taking piano lessons and singing in choirs, beginning down the long road of classical music training, but something about Bob Dylan's music grabbed me. I loved his poetry; and his voice, with all its limitations, captivated me. I was one intense eleven-year-old.

"Tell Tale Signs" is the latest in a series of releases of previously unavailable recordings by Bob Dylan. The two-disc set includes bootleg recordings from live performances, as well as outtakes and other "first approximations" from the recording studio over the past 20 years. It's some good listening, and Bob Dylan still fascinates me. His career has spanned more than 50 years, and he continues to write, perform, and tour. He has new things to say that are worth listening to. He continues to grow, explore, and transform himself and the culture.

Recording brings out the perfectionism in people. I confess to needing a couple of "takes" to get my outgoing voice mail message just right. Recordings of performances have an archival quality, and you know when you're making one that it will be preserved for posterity. We try to be extra good, to hit it out of the park every time, so to speak. We become self-conscious, awkward, stumbling around. A bootleg recording, however, captures something immediate, fresh, and real. The recorder surreptitiously captured the artist in her natural state, going about her business, unpreoccupied by the demands of perfection. We can see, hear, and feel the "Tell Tale Signs" that something special is going on. Small wonder that we treasure these recordings as representative of an artist's best work.

You probably agree that it's hard to do your best work when you are self-conscious. Legion are the theatrical productions that give their best performance at the dress rehearsal, when no critics are present. But self-consciousness is not the same as self-awareness. Self-consciousness makes you worry about the judgment of others, constantly compares you with someone or something else, and takes you out of the present moment. Self-consciousness has its own "Tell Tale Signs;" it makes you stilted, stiff, and uninspired. Self-awareness, on the other hand, allows you to respond spontaneously to whatever is before you. Self-awareness elicits the peaceful, yet energized, flow of attention, expression, and creativity.

The work of Moshe Feldenkrais offers the opportunity to transform self-consciousness into self-awareness. When you experience yourself moving effortlessly, with comfort, ease, and grace, it's almost like having a "bootleg recording" of yourself, capturing your individual genius. My students often say, "WOW! I had no idea I could do THAT!" This ability to see yourself in a new way makes the "recordings" dynamic and alive, rather than static. Feldenkrais knew that we can't learn, adapt, or attain our full potential when judgment and self-consciousness take us out of the present moment.

Don't be afraid: you don't have to aspire to nirvana-like states of awareness perfection to benefit. Even small, incremental improvements in your awareness can lead to surprising returns. The dawning awareness inspires you to go deeper, broader, more specific, more general, to find what else might be possible. Rather than being pressured from the outside to accomplish something, the rewards come from within. It reminds me of a few lines from the old Kathy Mattea song:

Now here is the one thing I keep forgetting
When everything is falling apart
In life there's enough no I need to remember
There's such a thing as trying too hard

You have to sing (sing) like you don't need the money
Love (love) like you'll never get hurt
You gotta dance, dance, dance like nobody's watching
Its got to come from the heart if you want it to work . . .

Frequently, Moshe Feldenkrais would instruct his students to move in such a way "as if it didn't matter." I think that's the equivalent of "dance like nobody's watching." In that atmosphere of freedom, the "Tell Tale Signs" of your own brilliance begin to emerge.