We did a lesson this afternoon on learning how to expand your abdomen as your breathe in, expand your ribs as you breathe in, and expanding your head as you breathe in. Yes, I said expand your head. Basically, imagine a beach ball inside each, and as you inhale, blow up the beach balls so that all parts of your abdomen, ribs, and head expand equally in all directions. Very cool lesson.
Well, cool during the lesson. The aftereffects I'm not so sure about. I stood up and felt like I was floating (actually meant I was walking through my skeleton instead of working muscles too hard). Sometimes that floating feeling is really fun, but today it wasn't. It was really disconcerting. Along with floating, I felt like I had giant chipmunk cheeks, and some tension had let go behind and around my eyes that I didn't know had been there before. My eyes felt enormous. I didn't feel like myself and immediately started dreading the parent-teacher get-together happening at work this evening.
I got multiple comments from classmates saying I looked noticeably taller and that my eyes looked different. I went to look in the mirror, and it was true. I definitely looked taller and all the little creases around my eyes and eyebrows were gone. Talking felt strange too, as though my voice was coming from a different part of me than usual. I didn't have the same control of my lips I normally do.
The whole drive home (luckily I wasn't the one driving), I kept very quiet unless asked questions by my carpool-mates. It seemed like I was looking out of someone else's body - my eyes, my brain, my voice, but in the wrong context. I knew what was going on in this new body, but had no idea how to react to it or what to do with it.
Getting out of the car helped a lot. Walking from the car to my front door, I began to feel a little more settled in this new context. That was half an hour ago. I'm feeling a bit more like myself now, but a version with bigger more open eyes and very quick reflexes. Tonight's work event will be an adventure.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Segment 4, Day 2: vocal experimentation
It turns out that this segment will be about learning how to teach ATM lessons, the kind that looks like a yoga class. A major part of teaching an ATM is learning to make your intentions clear through your voice, both in tone and in content. We did an activity this morning that was so much fun that I'm going to share it with you here.
So, I have an experiment for you to try. Find a person to do it with. You could do it in the mirror, but it's more interesting with another person.
1. Take the list of words and phrases below and read them to one another as if you were actually in the situation presented by each phrase. Make it sound real. Make sure you look at the person you're talking to instead of at the list. Trust me, it's fun.
Yes.
I'm feeling confident. I know I can do the job.
You-hooo!
I'd like to make an announcement.
Help!
This is really uncomfortable.
Ouch!
I have a secret to tell you.
Stop it.
I don't think I can do this.
Whatever.
Hello there.
I'm cold.
I'm hot.
Oh baby.
I'm scared.
Go!
Come here.
Ohhh that feels so good.
Please lie down.
I am really angry.
Taxi?
2. Next, find the place in your voice where you naturally say "yes". Using that same place in your voice, read through the list again and see what happens.
3. Pick another phrase, find that spot in your voice, and try it again in that voice.
Ridiculously fun, and not nearly as easy as it seems like it should be.
So, I have an experiment for you to try. Find a person to do it with. You could do it in the mirror, but it's more interesting with another person.
1. Take the list of words and phrases below and read them to one another as if you were actually in the situation presented by each phrase. Make it sound real. Make sure you look at the person you're talking to instead of at the list. Trust me, it's fun.
Yes.
I'm feeling confident. I know I can do the job.
You-hooo!
I'd like to make an announcement.
Help!
This is really uncomfortable.
Ouch!
I have a secret to tell you.
Stop it.
I don't think I can do this.
Whatever.
Hello there.
I'm cold.
I'm hot.
Oh baby.
I'm scared.
Go!
Come here.
Ohhh that feels so good.
Please lie down.
I am really angry.
Taxi?
2. Next, find the place in your voice where you naturally say "yes". Using that same place in your voice, read through the list again and see what happens.
3. Pick another phrase, find that spot in your voice, and try it again in that voice.
Ridiculously fun, and not nearly as easy as it seems like it should be.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
a clean start
Final prayers have been sung, the shofar has been blown, the sun has gone down, I've eaten a giant break-fast, and I recognize many more Hebrew words at a glance than I did a week ago. Yom Kippur is over. This was a surprisingly easy Yom Kippur - I had a relatively easy fast, and I didn't have anything major that I felt I wanted to atone for. It was very different from last year, which happened when I was still in the midst of learning how to forgive my surgeon for his mistakes. That was an intensely painful process. This year was MUCH easier in comparison.
Yom Kippur came at an interesting time this year, three days before Segment 4 starts. For the past month and half or so since I realized Segment 4 was coming up soon, I've been panicking about it. I realized that since the last two segments were so physically and emotionally demanding for me, I unconsciously blocked Feldenkrais all summer. I didn't think about it, I didn't practice it unless someone asked me to practice on them, I didn't read anything by Moshe... It even got to a point where I would notice that I was falling back into some bad habit and in physical pain, but despite being able to help myself pretty easily, I didn't do anything about it. So, since August I've spent a lot of time worrying about how I would get back into it, and especially how I would find the necessary mindset.
A couple of days ago, I realized a strange paradox. If I try to put myself into a Feldenkrais mindset, I will just get worked up and worried about it, and not be able to get anywhere with it. However, if I decide to just show up at class knowing it'll be totally different from "real life", I can let the mindset find me. I'm learning how to not overthink things, so I'm opting for the second choice. It seems appropriate with Yom Kippur so close to the start of class.
Yom Kippur came at an interesting time this year, three days before Segment 4 starts. For the past month and half or so since I realized Segment 4 was coming up soon, I've been panicking about it. I realized that since the last two segments were so physically and emotionally demanding for me, I unconsciously blocked Feldenkrais all summer. I didn't think about it, I didn't practice it unless someone asked me to practice on them, I didn't read anything by Moshe... It even got to a point where I would notice that I was falling back into some bad habit and in physical pain, but despite being able to help myself pretty easily, I didn't do anything about it. So, since August I've spent a lot of time worrying about how I would get back into it, and especially how I would find the necessary mindset.
A couple of days ago, I realized a strange paradox. If I try to put myself into a Feldenkrais mindset, I will just get worked up and worried about it, and not be able to get anywhere with it. However, if I decide to just show up at class knowing it'll be totally different from "real life", I can let the mindset find me. I'm learning how to not overthink things, so I'm opting for the second choice. It seems appropriate with Yom Kippur so close to the start of class.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
return from an absence
Huh. It's been a while since I wrote here. Two months, in fact. I've spent most of that time working, dancing, and getting settled in my new apartment, and not doing a whole lot of Feldenkrais or even thinking about it. I can only guess why it disappeared like that, because I don't really know why.
Moving myself and my former roommate out of our old apartment and into our new places definitely put me in some old pain and old habits of moving that I did not want hanging around, but I didn't actively do anything about it. Maybe I needed a mental break. I got myself very deeply entrenched in the psychological aspect of my Feldenkrais training last segment and stayed there for a while, working out some of the stories that came up from my past and figuring out the physical repercussions of those stories. That was a tiring, difficult process, so maybe my two month break from the world of Feldenkrais was to recover from that. I feel like I can come back now though.
Recently there seems to be a lot of talk about marketing Feldenkrais. I recognize the importance of learning how to do that, but I'm so much more interested in the moment I'm at RIGHT NOW in my training and the process of getting to the next step that it doesn't feel very relevant. The next step is making it to Segment 4, Day 1, on September 20th. Setting up a career is not the next step, not for me at least.
A more immediate next step might be getting one of these books though - The Body Moveable. Check out the sample pages. Anybody interested in anatomy should get one of these. I got to look through one yesterday and they're beautiful, and have a great balance of basic information and as much in depth information as you could possibly want. I've been told it's far more useful than having a model skeleton to play with.
Moving myself and my former roommate out of our old apartment and into our new places definitely put me in some old pain and old habits of moving that I did not want hanging around, but I didn't actively do anything about it. Maybe I needed a mental break. I got myself very deeply entrenched in the psychological aspect of my Feldenkrais training last segment and stayed there for a while, working out some of the stories that came up from my past and figuring out the physical repercussions of those stories. That was a tiring, difficult process, so maybe my two month break from the world of Feldenkrais was to recover from that. I feel like I can come back now though.
Recently there seems to be a lot of talk about marketing Feldenkrais. I recognize the importance of learning how to do that, but I'm so much more interested in the moment I'm at RIGHT NOW in my training and the process of getting to the next step that it doesn't feel very relevant. The next step is making it to Segment 4, Day 1, on September 20th. Setting up a career is not the next step, not for me at least.
A more immediate next step might be getting one of these books though - The Body Moveable. Check out the sample pages. Anybody interested in anatomy should get one of these. I got to look through one yesterday and they're beautiful, and have a great balance of basic information and as much in depth information as you could possibly want. I've been told it's far more useful than having a model skeleton to play with.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Don't Forget to Breathe
I love it when different parts of my life overlap with each other in surprising ways. It can occasionally be strange, but it's often wonderful and informative. Today was one of those good overlap days. Interlake had its annual Teacher Retreat today (also known as an in-service with a special name), and our morning guest speaker was Laura van Dernoot Lipsky. She's a trauma counselor, the director of a Spanish-language preschool here in Seattle, and the author of "Trauma Stewardship: An Everyday Guide to Caring for Self While Caring for Others". Oh, and she's full of enthusiasm and she's WONDERFUL.
She spent the morning talking about how to use the idea of trauma stewardship as preschool teachers, mostly on the ways that we habitually react to stressful situations at work (of which there are many) and what to do with those reactions. The more she talked, the more I realized that what she was talking about was essentially the philosophy behind Feldenkrais. She spoke about "quality of presence" and how to keep ourselves attentive and useful. (We talk about "quality of touch" in Feldenkrais.) She talked a lot about mindfulness, and about remembering to make space in ourselves for, well, ourselves, and figuring out how to let all the other stuff go. (In Feldenkrais, you can't help someone unless you're coming from a place that's YOU and not everyone else's stuff that got shoved into you.)
At one point, Laura was talking about anger, and about how you don't really know what real anger is until you've experienced it, and once you have, you don't want to go back there. That gave me the shivers, as I remembered back to September and the anger and hatred I drowned in for a few days while dealing with the emotional leftovers from 13 years ago. What a completely awful sensation. Please, whatever powers are out there, don't make me go through that again.
I now have a signed copy of her book waiting for me to read it. It's not as though mindfulness is a new thing or specific to Feldenkrais - as Laura reminded us, it's what our ancestors have always tried to teach us. I just love parallels. I also like being reminded of things I forgot I knew.
She spent the morning talking about how to use the idea of trauma stewardship as preschool teachers, mostly on the ways that we habitually react to stressful situations at work (of which there are many) and what to do with those reactions. The more she talked, the more I realized that what she was talking about was essentially the philosophy behind Feldenkrais. She spoke about "quality of presence" and how to keep ourselves attentive and useful. (We talk about "quality of touch" in Feldenkrais.) She talked a lot about mindfulness, and about remembering to make space in ourselves for, well, ourselves, and figuring out how to let all the other stuff go. (In Feldenkrais, you can't help someone unless you're coming from a place that's YOU and not everyone else's stuff that got shoved into you.)
At one point, Laura was talking about anger, and about how you don't really know what real anger is until you've experienced it, and once you have, you don't want to go back there. That gave me the shivers, as I remembered back to September and the anger and hatred I drowned in for a few days while dealing with the emotional leftovers from 13 years ago. What a completely awful sensation. Please, whatever powers are out there, don't make me go through that again.
I now have a signed copy of her book waiting for me to read it. It's not as though mindfulness is a new thing or specific to Feldenkrais - as Laura reminded us, it's what our ancestors have always tried to teach us. I just love parallels. I also like being reminded of things I forgot I knew.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Hip Replacement Missionary?
I just had a very strange experience. I was walking through a parking lot from the bank to my car, and a woman in her mid-thirties stopped me to ask me a question.
"Excuse me, but do you mind if I ask you a question about your gait?"
The only people who use the word "gait" on a regular basis are physical therapists, orthopedic doctors, and horseback riders. Everyone else just asks about my limp or the way I walk. This seemed intriguing.
"Sure."
"Did you have a hip replacement?"
"No..."
"Do you have hip dysplasia?"
"Yes..." (thinking: how does she know that?!)
"I used to have a gait just like yours. I had hip dysplasia and congenital [something I haven't heard of before and don't remember], and I got a hip replacement. It was the best decision I ever made."
She goes on for a bit about how self-conscious she had been of her limp (only hers was "100 times worse" than mine), back pain, etc. I mention that I'm avoiding having anymore surgery. She knows all about how that goes, but encourages me anyway. This is sounding more and more like someone trying to sell me something. Apparently a place called the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota is the spot to get a hip replacement done.
She eventually finishes. "Don't wait too long like I did!" We part ways.
She was so convinced that her solution was the best solution that I actually didn't get a chance to tell her that I'm not self-conscious about my walk, I'm rarely in pain, and I have a relatively healthy hip socket, despite my gait, and that I've found other ways to help myself get through life without another surgery. She only seemed interested in selling me a Mayo Clinic hip replacement surgery, and probably wouldn't really have listened if I had told her all of that. I'm very glad she's happy, but, well... Thanks but no thanks.
"Excuse me, but do you mind if I ask you a question about your gait?"
The only people who use the word "gait" on a regular basis are physical therapists, orthopedic doctors, and horseback riders. Everyone else just asks about my limp or the way I walk. This seemed intriguing.
"Sure."
"Did you have a hip replacement?"
"No..."
"Do you have hip dysplasia?"
"Yes..." (thinking: how does she know that?!)
"I used to have a gait just like yours. I had hip dysplasia and congenital [something I haven't heard of before and don't remember], and I got a hip replacement. It was the best decision I ever made."
She goes on for a bit about how self-conscious she had been of her limp (only hers was "100 times worse" than mine), back pain, etc. I mention that I'm avoiding having anymore surgery. She knows all about how that goes, but encourages me anyway. This is sounding more and more like someone trying to sell me something. Apparently a place called the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota is the spot to get a hip replacement done.
She eventually finishes. "Don't wait too long like I did!" We part ways.
She was so convinced that her solution was the best solution that I actually didn't get a chance to tell her that I'm not self-conscious about my walk, I'm rarely in pain, and I have a relatively healthy hip socket, despite my gait, and that I've found other ways to help myself get through life without another surgery. She only seemed interested in selling me a Mayo Clinic hip replacement surgery, and probably wouldn't really have listened if I had told her all of that. I'm very glad she's happy, but, well... Thanks but no thanks.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Life and Bikes
I'm posting for the first time from my new apartment! In case you missed it, I'm moving from Lower Queen Anne to West Green Lake. I still only have a few things in the new place, but it's enough that I can sleep here and spend some time here without having to sit on the floor. I'll be completely moved in within the next couple of weeks.
I think living by Green Lake is going to be really good for me. My apartment is a block and a half from the lake, so I have NO excuse about not going for walks there. I took my first walk today (somehow I'd never taken a walk around the lake before - stupid me), and it's BEAUTIFUL. Maybe that's just because today is also a sunny, lovely spring day, but no, I think Green Lake is just inherently beautiful. I'm so excited to be living here.
Living by the lake is also physically inspiring for me. It's really fun watching all the bikers, roller skaters, scooterers, runners, and walkers, and it makes me want to join them. A few days ago my mom told me that she had a dream about watching me ride a bike with my hair blowing behind me in the wind (I think I had longer hair in the dream). Watching the bikers at Green Lake after hearing about that dream makes me want to bike again.
The last time I rode a bike was late in high school in an attempt to learn how to ride again after my 5th grade surgery and recovery. I never got the hang of it again. The phrase "Once you know how to ride a bike you'll never forget" does not ring true for me. I was always terrified of falling, and did fall hard a few times. It still scares me when I think about it. On the other hand, the image from Mom's dream is a very tempting one. I remember biking when I was little and loving it. Juggling the two reactions is really confusing. Probably the hardest part aside from dealing with the fear of falling is the embarrassment of not being able to ride a bike. Everyone I know bikes. If I were to learn again, I'd have no idea where to start...
I think living by Green Lake is going to be really good for me. My apartment is a block and a half from the lake, so I have NO excuse about not going for walks there. I took my first walk today (somehow I'd never taken a walk around the lake before - stupid me), and it's BEAUTIFUL. Maybe that's just because today is also a sunny, lovely spring day, but no, I think Green Lake is just inherently beautiful. I'm so excited to be living here.
Living by the lake is also physically inspiring for me. It's really fun watching all the bikers, roller skaters, scooterers, runners, and walkers, and it makes me want to join them. A few days ago my mom told me that she had a dream about watching me ride a bike with my hair blowing behind me in the wind (I think I had longer hair in the dream). Watching the bikers at Green Lake after hearing about that dream makes me want to bike again.
The last time I rode a bike was late in high school in an attempt to learn how to ride again after my 5th grade surgery and recovery. I never got the hang of it again. The phrase "Once you know how to ride a bike you'll never forget" does not ring true for me. I was always terrified of falling, and did fall hard a few times. It still scares me when I think about it. On the other hand, the image from Mom's dream is a very tempting one. I remember biking when I was little and loving it. Juggling the two reactions is really confusing. Probably the hardest part aside from dealing with the fear of falling is the embarrassment of not being able to ride a bike. Everyone I know bikes. If I were to learn again, I'd have no idea where to start...
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