More Feldenkrais Fun, Part Trois

I'm down here in San Diego for another round of Feldenkrais training.

Inevitably, one winds up learning about oneself in sometimes surprising ways at these things.

There's a hands-on component to this work--which I think I've mentioned in the past--where, at the most basic level, you touch someone's body and try to discern the intricacies of how the person moves. It's generally referred to as "listening" with the hands.

Yesterday the class was performing a kind of "listening" drill with partners in which one partner sat behind another, touched his or her back, and listened as the partner in front slowly flexed his spine forward. This went on for several minutes, with the person in front flexing forward to different points, and the listener moving his hands onto different spots on the person's back. Afterwards we discussed what we felt or sensed from the other person: did their movements feel symmetrical? Smooth? Jerky? Comfortable? And on and on. It's pretty amazing what one can sense through a basic exercise like this.

I was paired with a woman who had done a lot of dance training who was, inevitably, perhaps, very flexible and graceful in her movements.

As we reflected back on what we'd sensed from each other, I found it difficult to stick to the information I'd actually sensed by watching and feeling her back; instead I quickly jumped to assumptions I was making about her based on the fact that she was a dancer: that she seemed aligned and poised, that her movements had been smooth and controlled. Upon further reflection, I'm not fully sure that's true; I had probably said those things to flatter and affirm her rather than reflect useful information about what I'd sensed from her back.

And when she reflected back to me, I could tell she was having similar problems: for a guy, I am, for instance, surprisingly flexible (I've worked on it for years to counteract some natural tendencies), and my 'pushing' strength is pathetic compared to my relatively strong 'pulling' strength. Yet I heard her reflecting about the inflexibility of my shoulders and over-development in my chest compared to my back, both of which are assumptions one would make about a man who lifted weights, but don't happen to be true of me in particular.

There's a larger point to be made here about bias and not paying real attention, even when that's our only directive, and our human tendency to look for ways to validate our beliefs about people rather than to actually engage with them. My partner and I were both experts--or at least, very knowledgeable--in other, related fields, and, I imagine, used to being listened to by others about their bodies and how they move. But in this field, we're newbies, and maybe we're just not comfortable about that yet. So we'd rather be decisive and have something to say than just to admit we don't know.

Lately I've been telling my clients "I don't know" more often, and it feels oddly good. As with any model, including Feldenkrais, the typical 'personal training' view on how the body moves and works--one major principle of which is that the solution to nearly all movement problems is to stretch or strengthen--is limited and flawed, and will only take you so far. Like a lot of practitioners in fields relating to the body, I've come to a point where the limits of my understanding are glaring out at me like warning lights.

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The Strength and Fitness community just lost a legend: Coney Island strongman legend Joe Rollino.