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Trusting My
Skills in the Alexander Technique
By Paul Recker
(Reprinted
from AmSAT News, Issue #75, Winter 2007)
I
began lessons in the Alexander Technique in 1998, and I have
been in the Teacher Training Course at the Alexander
Technique School of New England (ATSNE) for almost two
years, starting in 2005. As I have used my skills of
inhibition and direction over the years, there have been
many moments of discovery and a growing understanding of the
principles of the Technique.
The most powerful discovery developed over a series of
experiences. At one point during my third semester of
training I heard Missy Vineyard, our training director, say
to someone, “I don’t know why you don’t believe me, all you
have to do is inhibit and direct. Trust your skills!” It was
the right time for me to hear that, and I said to myself,
“Why not?” It’s simple, but not easy. It’s easier to believe
there must be something else I have to do. And that’s the
problem: we’re constantly faced with our beliefs that may or
may not be true. Who wants to step into the unknown to test
them? That’s the hard part. Trusting your skills means being
willing to not know what will happen next.
Let
me give you some examples of trusting my skill. During one
of our “games” days in training, Missy was taking me up on
my toes. I did not believe I could bear enough weight on my
right foot to go up as high as on the left. I was afraid it
was going to hurt. But I recognized this as a belief that
might not be true, my fear of something that hadn’t happened
and might not happen. I used my skill of inhibition: “I am
not interfering with standing on toes. I am not standing on
toes.” When I received the stimulus of Missy’s hands on my
back I allowed myself to rise up onto my toes. When my
balance became shaky I renewed my inhibition: “I don’t have
to pay attention to my fear” and directed, “I want my head
to go forward and up, my back to lengthen up and widen.” I
thought of the spatial directions “forward and up.” I was
aware of my head moving slightly, feeding information to my
vestibular system. My arms were over my head, I was balanced
on my toes. Then I let myself down to my heels.
A
classmate asked, “Did you think you could do it?” I said,
“No.” I didn’t believe I could do it, but I didn’t let my
erroneous belief get in the way. I inhibited and directed. I
trusted my skills.
Another
day I was lying on the table during a lesson, when I had the
perception that I was bearing more weight on my left side
than my right. The teacher confirmed that I was more on the
left. After some more work I was lying flat on my back,
weight equally distributed. But an interesting thing
happened. I became aware that the weight was equally
distributed on my back, but, at the same time, there was a
vivid perception that my right side was raised off the
table. More weight seemed to be on the left. When we are
faced with such a dichotomy of physical perception the brain
tries to make sense of it. Consciously, we want to fix it.
But here’s where trusting our skills is important. I was
able to inhibit the desire to fix what felt wrong and let my
brain figure out which was accurate on its own. In a short
time the perception of being crooked faded and went away. I
didn’t have to do anything but inhibit and wait.
One
night after I brushed my teeth and went to bed, one of my
teeth began to hurt from the cold water rinse. A crown had
come loose earlier in the day and while it didn’t always
hurt, it did respond to cold with pain. I thought it would
go away but that wasn’t happening. I considered getting up
to take a pill, but it was cold in the room and I didn’t
want to leave the warm bed. The pain seemed to be getting
worse. I thought, let me inhibit. I quieted my inner chatter
and began, “I am not tensing my neck, I am not tensing the
muscles of the torso.” And I added, “I am not tensing the
muscles in my face, especially in the jaw and around the
mouth.” I was thinking forward for my face. I could feel my
face loosen and my jaw drop. My breathing became fuller and
easier. I was aware of my surroundings, the sound of the
heating system running, wind blowing outside my window. Soon
I noticed my tooth didn’t hurt.
I
had problems with sinus congestion off and on for five
months. About every 3-4 weeks it would blossom with symptoms
that looked and sounded like a bad cold. I discovered one
night, lying in bed on my back, that I couldn’t breathe
through my nose. I began to react with frustration. I was
tired of being congested. Breathing through my mouth only
added to the problem by drying out my throat. I make my
income by singing, and a dry scratchy throat is a threat to
my livelihood. I knew these reactions would not help. I
decided to inhibit. The fact was, I was congested and I
couldn’t breathe in a comfortable manner. Wishing it was
different was not going to change that. Feeling frustrated
or angry was not going to change that. So why not accept it?
It was not the end of the world.
I
returned to my skills of inhibition and direction. I needed
to be in the present however unpleasant that was. I thought
of the directions forward and up, and up, wide, and
forward. I quieted my complaining inner voices. “I am not
having this conversation now, I want to be in the here and
now.”
The
room is dark. There is the sound of a car going down the
street. Now a car comes from the other direction. There is
the heating system kicking on. Something falls on the roof;
I hear the wind blowing outside. I feel my heartbeat. There
is no comment on what I observe, just an awareness of what
it is. I am aware that the inner voices are quiet for the
time being. I say to myself, “I’m allowing my neck to be
free, I’m not tensing my neck. My head can be forward and
up.” I wait. I give myself time to understand what I mean by
the phrase, “My head can be forward and up”. “My torso can
lengthen up and widen.” I wait. “My knees can release
forward, heels lengthening away.” I wait. I repeat the
inhibitory messages for several minutes, giving each
intention time to sink in with meaning.
Through
this process I am aware that my breathing is getting fuller.
My ribs are moving and I am beginning to breathe in through
my nose, out my mouth. Soon I am quite comfortable. My
breathing is easy and full and restful. My head is still
stuffy and I can feel pressure in my sinus cavities around
my eyes and nose and behind my ears, but I can breathe in
through my nose with ease.
How
did that happen? My body was reacting to the stress of
impaired breathing. There were the emotional reactions of
frustration, anger, impatience, and worry. There were the
physical reactions of tension in the chest, pulling down in
the front of the torso and shoulders, tightening jaw and
facial muscles. The air passageways were narrowed. By
inhibiting these emotional and physical reactions to the
situation (“I don’t have to react to my inability to breath
through my nose.”) I
stopped the interference to my body’s natural functioning.
By inhibiting and directing forward and up, I directed my
body to a more coordinated functioning as a psychophysical
whole.
I
have given examples of experiences I’ve had using the skills
of inhibition and direction. The important part was not any
specific result, but the path taken. It is what F.M.
Alexander called the “means-whereby”. There is a freedom
that comes with trusting your skills. No more pressure of
having to get it right. No more expectations that I should
be doing better. It means letting go of the fears, beliefs,
expectations, and desires about what will happen next. I may
believe my ankle will hurt when I put weight on it. I may be
afraid of experiencing the pain that I believe I will have.
I may expect the pain in my tooth to continue long after the
original stimulus is gone. I may want all my habits of
misuse to go away now. The best I can do is to inhibit and
direct. I don’t know what will happen next. My experience
showed me that the belief that my ankle would hurt was not
true. My tooth did not continue to be painful. Did all my
habits of misuse go away? No, but I can inhibit the
expectation that they will go away, because the real measure
of success is – did I inhibit and direct? With practice, the
brain will figure out what you want from your inhibition and
direction, and “the right thing will do itself”.
It
can be a liberating experience to not have to change this
moment. It is perfectly fine to be where you are. You really
can’t be anywhere else. When you trust your skills you can
enter the next moment without fear, expectations, beliefs,
or desires, and the next moment becomes acceptable and
extraordinary.
© Paul Recker 2007. All rights reserved.
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