Little things with big impact

Every environment you visit on a regular basis becomes co-creator of habits. Even before I started learning Alexander Technique, I had developed a kind of sense for the new (and some of the typical) ways of interaction in serendipitous situations.

Going to school certainly fosters new habits, and usually you will encounter a schedule or timetables as frame to attach various new behaviour patterns to. Luckily, David's school for Alexander Studies prevents 'over-habitualisation' by inviting one or two 'master teachers' per term, interrupting the routine and offering fresh perspectives.

Cathy Madden visits our school at the moment, for the third time while I study there. I still remember some of her observation from prior visits. She reminded me to use my clavicles when I move my arm, she encouraged me to investigate my speech patterns by switching between German and English, and besides that provided a great example of applying AT when she worked with our group.

I felt quite elated and 'ready for action' after both days of Cathy's weekend workshop, although I didn't seem to have advanced much. However, just by attending the workshop I surrounded myself by a nurturing, positive environment with the opportunity to learn more about a different approach to teach the technique.

Cathy knows well the typical Alexander lingo, yet she doesn't bring up such terms unless requested to. Her language keeps simple, and with questions gentler than a lot of AT teachers hand she elicits useful information from the student.

She picked up on my habit of stating a lot of things in directly and indirectly negative ways, by noticing a shortening when airing bits of negativity. I had a great learning moment when I observed this pattern in another student, and Cathy's elegant way to reframe the students desire in positive terms. Even without Cathy's explicit reminder my understanding of this pattern grew, and confirmed the usefulness of simply observing a good teacher in action.

I missed the opportunity to ask her to help me teaching until today, and still needed to convince myself that I wanted to get up and do it. I had a positive intent how to approach the situation, but noticed that I lost my coordination pretty fast. More precisely, when I wanted to speak more activity than needed happened. Cathy stopped me and put her hands on, while I had my next go in talking to my student.

I could not figure out what I did in this critical moment, and Cathy went on to explain bits about the mechanics of voice production. She noticed that I pulled my tongue back to produce sounds, so she simply asked me first to hum, and then to speak trusting that I don't need to do this.

I guess I must have looked quite surprised when I played around with a new pathway to make some noise. All of a sudden, the tiny movement my tongue made stood out sufficiently to allow me to let go of it, to reorganise myself so that I have a new plan I can follow when I want to speak.

I wonder what else I do with my tongue, yet it seems blindingly obvious that additional tension in my tongue affects my neck, and therefore my entire coordination. Playing around with speaking still feels odd. Allowing my tongue to do less seems to reactivate saliva production, and sometimes I get the impression that my speech gets a bit slurry.

The tiny bit of information about me pulling my tongue back to 'prepare' for sound production took an entire mountain off my chest. At some point of my journey of learning the technique I came across the fact that I did something extra to speak. Not knowing what but noticing that 'I did it again' became a relatively steady source of frustration, and contributed to the diffuse perception of my social awkwardness.

Besides observance, guidance with our hands, verbal explanations we teach AT by applying its principles, using subconscious mechanisms to model freedom in activity. My concern about dis-coordinating myself while speaking slowly dissolves, and I look forward using my voice in a new way.

Speaking

I had a good turn with Jenny, working on my habit of 'checking in' or 'feeling out'. It seems like I start conceptualising when I become aware of new sensations, instead of continuing to inhibit and direct my movement. Somehow, Ann's idea of the freedom of the neck as gauge, got stuck in my thinking.

We explored the 'whispered ahhh' in prone. When I'm close enough to a student, the 'non-moving' parts become salient even without any optical clarity. My hands picked up a lot of Tristans movements, and I could see how much of his neck was involved in raising the head.

Bronwyn changed the performation session a bit, and experimented with voice projection. No chance to premier my new song, heaps of interesting new information nevertheless. I was surprised about the amount of pre-tension I build up to enter the stage... hmm do I associate a certain head position or jaw tension as 'right feeling' for starting to speak?

I still need to investigate different strategies for habits arising from imprints, conditioning and learning. I wonder whether trauma applies to all three layers, most likely.

Old habits

I still haven't found much opportunity to work constructively on one very old habit, speaking. Today started with quite an amazing turn with Jenny. I did not notice the slow, gradual increase of freedom in my movements. Although I can hardly remember the stiffness in my movement, I got very aware of my availability during Jenny's turn.

More freedom means as well more chances to 'help', or forgetting to remember to inhibit. I hardly noticed a difference in sensation when I changed my thinking, inhibiting my desire to help with the movement Jenny suggested with her hands. However, Jenny allowed me enough time to inhibit and renew my directions when undoing my shoulders, leaving me with a smile and new experiences.

I worked on my speaking habits again during the performance session. Although we were confined in the tea room, the atmosphere seemed to me more cooperative than on my first attempt. I really appreciated Kaz's approach as teacher. His question posed enough of a challenge not to shoot out an answer immediately, although I needed two attempts to answer it.

At first I lost my directions quite typically, and went a bit on a tangent. After some feedback and Kaz's friendly reminder that I didn't really answer, I stunned the group by a concise one-liner. Kaz wanted to know what I learned so far about my speaking habits, and I realised that I usually ignore my (body) awareness while speaking.

Kaz didn't stop here, although he can take pride in guiding me to an interesting revelation about my habit, and allowing me the positive experience of achieving my end by the right means. He noticed that I miss out on the chance to renew my inhibition with every full stop. Instead of telling me what I do wrong, he suggested in a friendly way a different approach, giving me the chance to choose whether to identify with his criticism or not.

Kaz's way of giving feedback certainly fits into the concept of 'indirect procedures'. He doesn't impose the interpretation of his observations to a student, he just offers them. A good example to follow and study.

Change of habit

This week we have to deal with a change in our school routine - Cathy Madden is our visiting teacher. Instead of slotting her into the regular routine, she runs kind of a workshop with us. She has a very gentle approach, and uses a language bereft of most Alexander lingo.

I like her idea to simplify Alexanders wonderful work even more, down to head leads and body follows, having a very easy way to demonstrate this relation. She started off by asking each of us about our goals for the time with her, and managed to teach already by making us clarify what we want.

I tried to explain my goal, to layer more directions into any activity, which she clarified to the desire to integrate the technique into my life. I volunteered to work on speaking in public, and discovered that I had connected the sensation of arousal with negative attitudes. Instead of using the extra energy to enhance my activity, I tried to block it off, reflected in my use.

I need more work to play with this idea, and the experience of succeeding in the friendly environment of the school will certainly help. Time flew, and after a contemplative lunch break I had a short private lesson (30 min).

I didn't notice too much change during the lesson, but I received useful information about the way I speak, and the different sound characteristic of German and English. I became aware of the different 'roundness' of these languages, and can focus on using more facial muscles to produce the sound (or rather, stop the idea to use just the visible part of mouth and lips).