Alexander Technique

The Dance of Dynamic Balance

Okay, here's an easy question: how are humans able to stand on two feet without falling over? There are several complicated ways to answer this, but the simplest and most basic truth is, we balance. This ability to be bipedal is an evolutionary miracle, but it's so automatic that we take it for granted. Until an injury or illness makes that impossible or difficult, we don't typically appreciate this balancing act. Partly it's because we do not understand what balance is. People who come for Alexander lessons anticipate that their balance will improve, and that's almost always a predictable result. Yet most students are surprised to learn that balance is dynamic, not static. One doesn't maintain balance by holding on, but by letting go. Or, to be more precise, by letting flow. Balance is a series of continual adjustments, tiny micro-motions that can only occur when there is openness and ease in the body. The minute we hold to a fixed posture or become rigid, we lose our balance. When tension and gripping is released, dynamic adjustments automatically flow throughout the system.

You may be thinking, "I'm pretty tense a lot of the time, but I don't fall over. I stay balanced." Well, you might stay upright, but that's not the same thing. Holding a fixed pattern in the body comes at a cost, in terms of muscle overwork and discomfort, reduced respiration, and the muting of feeling and reliable sensory feedback (to name just a few of the downsides).

Bodymind Experiment: Stand in a comfortable way, with your feet hip-width apart. (If you can do this without shoes, all the better.) Check in with your knees, make sure they are not hyperextended or locked. Relax your lower back, your belly, and your chest. Allow your arms to hang easily at your sides. Do a quick scan to see where there are pockets of tension (forehead, jaw, shoulders, thighs -- all popular spots for tightness). Invite these places to soften. Take a few full breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Now, with your eyes closed, begin to notice the movements happening in the soles of your feet. There will be little shifts back and forth, or side to side, or in circles. Don't do anything about this, just notice it. You will observe that even when we are "standing still" there is movement. Open your eyes, and sense the same micro-movements happening.

This is your body doing its best to balance. Keep scanning the body and the mind for little pockets of tension, and as you stand there, see what happens when you keep releasing wherever you are holding. How does this affect the motion you noticed in your feet? You can also try tensing up a bunch, to see what that does to the balancing act. Grip, then let go. Let go some more. Breathe.

Are you in the dance of dynamic balance?

Nothing Doing

Last week Tina Fey did a satiric sketch that caused some controversy, because it appeared that she was telling people to stay home and do nothing in response to the neo-Nazi and white supremacist rallies and marches. Personally, I thought it was funny and edgy social commentary, although I agree that some of what she said was problematic. I don't think she was seriously advising us to do nothing about fascist bullies, but either way, sometimes doing nothing is a really good idea. I am fascinated with the strong negative reaction to this sketch, and to the general idea of "doing nothing." This is an option that makes most people a little anxious, something they find nearly impossible to choose. It set me to thinking about the differences between the Alexander principle of non-doing (also an instruction in Vipassana meditation practice), the process of undoing, which happens as we drop our habitual patterns of use, and literally doing nothing.

David Cain at Raptitude wrote a wonderful essay this week about rediscovering the long lost thrill of doing nothing, and it reminded me that this was a regular feature of my childhood. I have lovely memories of lying under a tree and just staring up at the leaves and the light patterns between them, or sitting and watching clouds. Cain describes doing nothing as, "just being in the room and not doing anything in particular, usually while reclining your body in some way, with no regard for the time and no idea of what to do next. Real idleness."

When was the last time you allowed this? Don't we feel compelled to be productive or at least distracted by activity all the freaking time? Unless we build this into our days it isn't likely to happen. So I look for chances to not do. When I take the train into Philadelphia, for instance, I don't allow myself to do anything once I get to the station, except walk from the car to the platform, and then I just stand there. I'm not exactly waiting, not meditating, I'm just being. I might notice the sky, hear the birds singing or people chatting, maybe notice how my body is. Simple.

It doesn't have to take a large amount of time, either. 15-20 minutes is about as much as anybody needs. Look for spaces in your day where you can do nothing for 5 or more minutes, practice this consistently, and see what results you get. Most people find that it's a big relief to unhook from the need to accomplish anything and get anywhere.

The concept of non-doing in the Alexander Technique has more in common with the Buddhist notion of non-striving. F.M. Alexander discovered early in his experimentation with psychophysical functioning that balance, ease, poise, and overall coordination are reflexive, built into us already, and are most powerful when allowed to operate freely. Perhaps our most common interference with this is our tendency to over-effort. Instead of cooperating with ourselves, we think just a little extra push will help. This has been conditioned into us so deeply that it takes some time to recognize when we are doing too much, to discover the way of non-doing. As F.M. famously said, "the right thing does itself," if we can learn to trust it.

Undoing is how I think about the process we each go through as we let go of old, fixed patterns of thinking and behaving, as well as how I and many of my students describe what happens in an Alexander lesson as the patterns of holding and tension release and one begins to feel more open, expansive, and whole. Gradually, as consistent change occurs, the old ways just fall apart and disappear or only show up every once in a while. Another word for undoing might be "awakening." I always feel like a good AT lesson wakes me up to myself, to present moment reality.

I don't have to do anything to "get" that, either, except be there.

 

[Photo by Katherine Squier from Texas, USA ([1]) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons]