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By now you may have gathered that Feldenkrais is not
the easiest thing to talk about. That’s because
we’re translating into the verbal something that
is a visceral experience, and trying to capture on a
page a practice that is multidimensional. In class,
I use images a lot to bridge these gaps. Here are a
few:
>> Cheshire cat
If you haven’t read Alice in Wonderland or
seen the Disney version, hopefully you can imagine a
grinning cat whose body comes in and out of focus, sometimes
leaving only the smile visible. Our neurological ID
can be a lot like that, with places in the body that
do not feel quite there. One of my students calls it
“people becoming strangers to ourselves”
because the world is so “obsessed with complex
technology and speed.” Often we don’t pay
attention until something hurts. Feldenkrais helps build
a new self-image by filling in these nonengaged spaces.
Usually, becoming aware of a part of yourself from which
you had checked out elicits an “Aha!” experience.
>> River of movement
Ideally, you can start a movement in one part of your
body — say, by pressing the sole of your foot
down as you lie on the floor — and the motion
will flow in smooth sequence from joint to joint through
the rest, feeling a lot like an internal massage. Initially
when you try this, the movement is more likely to feel
dammed up, as if whole families of beavers are in there
gumming up the works. But as you become increasingly
aware of the ripple effect, places that are stiff or
unresponsive stand out in stark relief. Then you can
learn to reorganize your body so as to reach those areas,
too.
>> Rotating the tires
Tires wear down when they stay in the same position
for too long. Bodies wear down when they move mindlessly,
without any awareness of the pressure they’re
under. Often people are surprised to make the connection:
“You mean, if I stop slouching my pain will go
away?” When we hold ourselves static, it produces
problems. When we move differently, many of them balance
out.
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