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 The Feldenkrais Iournal
number r7

Thble of Contents

2 Letter from the Editor

3 Celebrating the Centennial

4 FELDENKRAIS: An Illustrated Biography and Resource Mark Reese

17 Mathematics and the Feldenkrais Method: Discovering the Relationship Adam Cole

27 AConversationwithMiaSegal PatiHolman

35 Teaching Awareness to Music Students, through Movement Stephen Duke

40 GoldenNeedle,GoldenRoof MaryAzrael

4l Integrating the Feldenkrais Method

within Dance Technique Class Sylvie Fortin & Warwick Long

54 Practice MaryAzrael

55 Making an Impact Lessons from Voice and Dance Louise Runyon

6f Dreaming of Proust: Reveries on Self, Habit, & Transformation Kyle Lee Williams

7l Contributors
 THE FELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 20O4

Letter from the Editor

Dear Colleagues,
In honor of Moshe's centennial birthda_v n e are very pleased to publish an
excerpt from Nlark Reese's tiroror-rghly researched biography of Moshe. I
think vou r,r,ill flnd that tire story, as N{ark tells it, brings Moshe alive in a rvay
that adds ner,,,, dimensions to the founder of our work. We're vety grateiul to
N{ark for his efforts. We are also very, happ}, to have in the same issue a rare
intenderv r,vith Ntia Segal, \{oshe's first student. She also filis in the histoq,
of the Method for us as she telis her o-'vn personal and engaging story.
This isstie of T'he Felclenlcrais Jottrnal reflects nrell the varied backgrounds
and interests of our community. We did not have a specific theme and
instead produced an open, or general issue, rvith the topics ranging from
Proust to the learning of \,{ath and back to Dance and N'Iusic. You can see
that the Performing Arts theme of the last trvo issues continlles to resonate
here. Stephen Duke has submitted an important article about his many
years of teaching the Method in the University of Illinois' Music depart-
ment. In it Stephen expresses rvell the complex give and take betrveen the
experiential iearning of the Feldenkrais Method and the constraints and
expectations of an academic enrrironment. Sylvie Fortin and Warwick Long
har,e continued the diaiogue about dance r,vith their stimulating article
about collaboratir,e dance teaching and melding errr processes with the
Iearning of technique. Louise Runyon has taken a different track exploring
hor,r, dance and r,.oice rvork can enrich and inform one's lvork r,r,ith Func-
tional Integration.
In addition to the Performing Arts articles nre have a loveiy piece by Kyle
Williarns taking off fiom a dream about Proust, and Adam Cole's inrrestiga-
tion of his "blocks" in the learning of mathematics and hoi,v he r,vas able to
use aspects of the Method to bring awareness to and ultimately shift habits
in his attention. Both of these articles are grounded in the personal experi-
ence of practitioners that forms a base for exploration of larger issues of
interest to our communit-v as a whole. I think this is a valuable direction for
us to go. Many practitioners have had profound and unusual experiences
r,r,ith the Method that are r,vell rvorth expressing and sharing n ith a wider
community, as evidenced b-v these tr,r,o pieces.
The theme of the next issue of the /o urnal wlll be Parenting and the
deadline is August 1, 2oo4. After tl-rat the therne r,r,iil be Awareness, with
a deadline ofJune 1, 20o5.
Man-v thanks to the members of the Editorial Board, the copl- editing
crew, and to Elaine Yoder r,vho more and more holds it all together.

Sincerely,

ry,?
Elizabeth Beringer
Editor

,
SPRING 20O4 rHL 1:ELT]E.\KRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17

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r(f) 6))r

Celebrating the Centennial

Dr. Moshe Feldenkrais 1904-1984

3
 THE FIT,I]]]NKRAIS JOl'RNAL NO. I7
MarkReese
I would like to express my deep-
est gratitude to the hundreds of
people all over the world who,
in different ways over the past
six years, have generously
supported my work to create
a comprehensive biography
of l\4oshe's life and work. I wish
especially to thank lVlichel Silice-
Feldenkrais for making available
materials from The Feldenkrais
lnstitute, and John Quigley
and the Civitas Foundation for
financial support. This excerpt is
an abridgement of the first part
of chapter one. The completed
biography is scheduled for pub-
lication in lvlay 2005.
4
SPRTNG 2OO4
FELDENKRAIS:
An lllustrated Biography and Resource
CHAPTER ONE: EASTERN EUROPEAN ROOTS
"This cosmic Reality is so immense and overu,helming that it is only r,vhen l,r,e
are at our best that \'ve can catch glimpses of it. "
1
FELDENKRAIS
-\IOS}IE
One winter night, in the aftermath of World War r, Moshe Feldenkrais, mus-
cular-framed and r4, Ieft his home in Poland to make his way to Paiestine.
As he r,r,alked bv himself to meet his smuggler-guide, n,ho lay hidden in a
swamp past the edge of ton n, a fer,r, coins clinked in his pockets and a pis-
tol, tucked in his boot, rubbed softlv against his leg. A hear,l.knapsack hung
on his back. It bulged rvith books on math and science mingled rvith a ferv
personal items. He was at the beginning of rvhat n ould be a six-month, rite-
of-passage odyssey. Steeped in Judaism's brer,r, of mysticism and reason,
and rocked by a violent, chaotic world of endemic war, persecution, and
revolution, potent aspirations coursed through his adolescent veins. His
heart beat with enthusiasm for the Zionist experiment, and he rvas driven
by impatience to shake his family's hold.
Moshe Feldenkrais grew up in "the battleground of Europe." He learned
early that change is life's rule, not its exception. Predicting the next pogrom
and divining the geo-political trends that brought new rulers and gover-
nance were matters of daily concern. Young Moshe rvitnessed Iirsthand the
beginning of the end of a cultural world. He chose to escape from the social
order crumbling around him. The rvorld he left behind rvas rich with his-
tory. It possessed unique storehouses of knoivledge, since then mostly con-
signed to oblivion: violently destroyed and tragically lost. Even so, legacies
remain from Eastern Europe. Some of those precious resources Moshe
drew into his or,vn astonishing creation, the Felder*r'ais Nlethod, bringing
por^/er to teach, enliven, and heal.
The beginnings of the storv of Feldenkrais' life and rvork, lay hundreds
of years before his birth in the circumstances that brought Jelr,s into Eastern
Europe. As rve see Moshe grow up, we tlT to fathom the religious currents
that permeated every part of his world. Nthough Feldenkrais r.r,as not a reli-
gious man, he often expressed a debt to religious and spiritual',r,isdom. He
chose to shor,v himself standing in an esoteric lineage, descending from his
ancestral namesake, the Hasidic patriarch, Pinhas of Korets. It is his choice
and not ours, to begin the life chronicle of a man of science from his reli-
gious roots.
SPRING 2OO4 TIIT FELDENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17

Many factors in Feldenkrais' life and work were deeply rooted in the cul-
ture and spirituality of his origins. Of these, perhaps the most crucial-as
my friend and colleague, David Zemach-Bersin suggests-was the belief
that miracles can still happen. Untrammeled expectations can be the
healer's or the teacher's greatest gift. As the Nobel Laureate, Elie Wiesel,
emphasizes, "In Hasidism, everything is possible, everything becomes pos-
sible by the mere presence of someone who knows how to listen, to love
and give of himself."2
Moshe-Pinhas Feldenkrais'birthplace, in the heartland of Hasidism, was
never a hub of world events. It lay in Europe's backwaters. The then Russian
torrrm of Slavuta resembled thousands of other Eastern European to\ Trs
where Jews made their homes. It was within a larger zone, called the Pale,
outside of which Russia forbade alllewishresidence. Moshe Feldenkrais
was born ina shtetl, an exclusivelylewish zone that functioned like quasi-
autonomous towns within Russian-Christian municipalities. Feldenkrais'
Iewish heritage provided him both inspiration and obstacles and, indeed,
the obstacles often proved his richest sources of inspiration.
ByWestern European standards, Eastern Europe was then socially and
economically backward and provincial. The rail network was only recently
well established; industry and commerce remained rudimentary. Many
lived simply offthe land and, for all butlews, literacywas the exception,
not the rule. Over the preceding 4oo years manylews settled in Eastern
Europe. The greatest number came from the Germanic west. It is probable
that Moshe's ancestors on his father's side migrated from Germany to settle
near Sandomir, southeast of Krakow, around r4oo. Theywould have
brought with them a culture and tradition, as well as a primary language-
Yiddish-that set them apart from their Slavic neighbors.
Slamta, Moshe's birthplace, is midwaybetween the Carpathian moun-
tains and the Black Sea. Since r99r it has been within the Ukrainian Repub-
lic. Slavuta is very green, and topographically mostly flat. The GorJm River,
long, narrow, and deep, flows through Slavuta on its wayfrom Poland
toward Ostrog, Rovna, and flnally the Black Sea. A small lake stretches from
the train station to the middle of the tor,rm. At the outskirts of tor,rm, beyond
one of the many wooden bridges that span the river, lies a large pine forest.
It is the namesake of the tornm, "forest of the Slavs," Slamta. Rich and abun-
dant agricultural land is one hallmark of the region. Like so manyvillages
and tor,tms of Eastern Europe, Slavuta appears a scene of pastoral simplicity.
Historians know differently: for a thousand years Eastern Europe has been a
vortex of more or less continuous cultural and political changes.
Moshe used Pinhas as his middle name, but itwas actuallypart of his
flrst name: "My name is Moshe-Pinhas. I have a double, hyphenated, name.
I [didn't] use it [because] I didn't know its importance." The name Pinhas
was given in honor of his illustrious maternal ancestor, Rabbi Pinhas of
Korets (t7z1-r7go). Rabbi Pinhas belonged to the inner circle of the Ba'al
Shem Tov, the founder of Hasidism. He was a healer, and Hasidim is a
tradition ofhealers.
The Ba'al Shem Tov taught that ordinary life was like a garden that held
the means to regenerate body and spirit. Peasant love songs, fables, and
fairy tales could illuminate sacred texts. Activities of singing, dancing, story-
telling, even drinkingr w€re ways to cultivate "sparks of holiness"; aware-
ness of a loving, ever-present Creator. Finding God's presence in all things
leads to profound, even overwhelming, joy. Suffering impedes a proper
relationship with God, and the alleviation of suffering necessarilybelongs

5
 THE FELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 20O4

to spiritual life. The Ba'al Shem Tov honored Jenrish customs and traditions,
but his way of encountering God's presence in all creation radically trans-
formed Jera,rish practice.
The Ba'al Shem Tov loved and respected Rabbi Pinhas and entrusted
him to adopt his gifted grandson, Rabbi Baruch of Medzeboz. Pinhas had
been an ascetic and a great scholar, especially ofthe Kabbalah, but also
of philosophy and mathematics. Meeting the Ba'al Shem Tov moved him
to renounce asceticism and the primacy of the intellect, and to become
a healer. He then taught the presence of God in the natural world, the
redemption even of the wicked through love, and above all the power
of simple goodness and humility. Rabbi Pinhas became renorvned for his
conduct and for his own wisdom stories. Moshe called him "the St. Paul
of Hasidism" for his essential role in n riting dor,r,'n the Ba'al Shem's oral
teaching.3 I recall Moshe, in several intimate teaching situations, smiling
mischievously and invoking his ancestor as a secret resource, claiming that
Pinhas had n'hispered something in his ear.
Moshe's affinity for Pinhas becomes more comprehensible the more we
Iearn about him. Both rvere teachers and healers, scholars of math and sci-
ence, storJtellers and fierce indir..idualists: "Rabbi Pinhas of Korets was
intent on flnding his or,r,r-r path rather than follor,ving a Nlaster-any Mas-
ter."a Both fastened on to the importance of self-discovery, and avoided
conventional teacher/authoriq'roles. The1, shared the conl'iction that stu-
dents must learn from their experiences-because we learn the most
signilicant lessons from attention to our or,r,n 1ives. And, like his forbearer,
Moshe taught that it is foliy to separate bodv and mind.
Pinhas ol Korets had slx children by tr,r,'o lvives. In the late 17oo's, one of
Pinhas' four sons, Moshe Shapiro, established a famous Jewish publishing
house in Slalr-rta. Rabbi Moshe was a talented artist and scribe who devised
new printing techniques. His Talmudic publications were treasured for
their beauty. The Shapiro press was one of the few Jewish printing presses
in the Russian Empire. Since Pinhas' sons bore the Shapiro surname, it
seems evident that Rivka Korets-as she was known-Moshe's maternal
grandmother, r,rras descended from Pinhas' only daughter. Korets was prob-
ably a middle name. Rivka married Ntlichael Pshater and adopted his sur-
name. N{ichael Pshater stood at the apogee of an established life. He had
become a timber merchant r,r,ho traded in entire forests, a banker, and a
respected religious scholar.
Shtetl communities were stratified along the lines of education, occu-
pation, and weaith. The leading citizen of each tor,r,n typically owned its
Iargest house-usually situated directly on the square r,r,here the market was
held. There, in Slar,,r.rta, the Pshater home sat. And the Pshaters, as the lead-
ing citizens, carried the prestige and responsibility that beionged to their
special position.
Moshe's mother, Sheindel, was born to Rivka and Michael in rBBo. The
Iarge Pshater family included nine children. Sheindel was their second born
and the oldest girl.5 Their house was so large that Sheindel and her brothers
and sisters each had a bedroom of their or,vn-and each bedroom \\'as
warmed by its oum stove.
It was Sheindel who carried the biood-link to Moshe's famous Hasidic
ancestor, Rabbi Pinhas. Sheindel is Yiddish for "pretty one." Aryeh
Feldenkrais, Moshe's father, came from the nearby town of Kremenets,
south and west of Slar,,uta and closer to the border rt,ith Poland. Moshe's
birth, in Michael Pshater's flne home, fell on the leu,ish holidav of ShautLot,
May 6th, rgo+.

6
SPRING 2OO4 TIII F]]I,DENiT(RAIS ]OIIItNAL NO. 17

Hasidism uras a part-and perhaps the earliest part-of Moshe's intellec-

tual and spiritual inheritance from the r,vorld of Eastern European Judaism.
But his grandparents' approach to education shor,vs how far Michael and
Rir,ka had moved from tl-reir Hasidic forbearers. Rather than insist on an
exclusir.ely Jer,r,ish education, the Pshaters hired tutors to give their children
the best and broadest education available. Siar,'r-rta, being in the Russiau
empire, rvas Russian-speaking and Sheindel u,as taught Russian.
Sheindel became totallv immersed in Russian literature-but i,vhat about
the daughters of the poor families in the torvn? Sheindel "found rzolunteers
among the other girls r,r,ho knerv Russian and organized evening ciasses for
all of those girls r,r,ho had no schooiing at all. The classes in tlrrn made her
familiar r,vith other problems of these families. It r,r,as in this way that she
discovered her life's r'r,ork, the care of the sick and the lonely. "o
Like Moshe, Sheindel was a natlrrai ieader and teacher, and she cared lor
the helpless even lr,,hen later she rvas herseif impoverished. Sheindel took
particular care to foster in her children the love of learning and an abiding
sense of moral responsibility.
Moshe's famil-v moved, probabl.v when he tvas around four years old,
from Slar,-uta to the town of Kremenets, nhereAr-veh Feidenkrais'mother
and her brother made their home. Kremenets r,r,as close to the border with
Poland, about sevent-v miles south and r,rrest of Slavuta.
In rgog, Sheindel-noi,v living in Kremerets-became pregnant with her
third son, Berel. FIe was later renamed Baruch. The name "Bartrch" means
"blessed" in Hebren. Like Moshe, Baruch Feldenkrais possessed an incisive
mind, a proclivity to humor, and an amazing memorv. But Moshe's more
outurard looking, theatrical, and ambitious character, contrasted $.ith his
brother's quiet and gentle manner, and the intense devotion and singular
focus he brought to his family. Of their children, Bamch alrva-vs remained
the closest to Aryeh and Sheindel.
Another sibling, a different home, and elders now from his father's
side of the famiiv, onl-v begin to te11 hon, Moshe's life u,ould be different
in Kremenets. Jervs had settled in Kremenets in the r3oos, three hundred
Jrears earlier than Sla\,'uta. It r,r,.as the site of a.veshiva and a large, prosper-
ous, Jer,r,ish communitv. Btrt rvhile the tor,r,,n's roots urere rrenerable, Jewish
culture in Kremenets rvas shaped by more contemporary crosscurrents
than in Slar''uta.
We have Moshe's olr'n childhood r,,oice to tell us of his years in Kremenets:
descriptive and poetic writing from when he r,vas eleven years old, perhaps
two vears after his family mor,,ed on from Kremenets to the tortrn of Bara-
novich. The source is an assignment book completed over the course of the
rgr5 school year in the class of his Hebrer,v teacher, Mr. Gutman. The essays
exhibit voung NIoshe's precocious inrelligence, his sharp powers of obser-
vation, and a delicate aesthetic. Passages r,r,here Nloshe is immersed in
nature, and outside the r,.,,orld of adults, seem particularly vivid, as in this
essay, "The Grass":

Srnall green heads rise from the ground. 'l'hev gror'r, from dav to day until they
become as tail as a boy. This is the grass. Tire rvind blolvs througir the grass
and it begins to s\\,ay. lt is so pleasant to play hide-and-seek then. All the
children l.ride betrveen the tall grass and look at the pure s\,. The-v iisten to
the secrets that the blades of grass tell each other. This is horv rve rvili clream
as u,e lav donn and forget the game. All as one \\re sink in deep thoughts.
f omorro\v too stands still like a stone and so on until nightfall. And rve all
return home.7

7
 THE FELDtrNKRAIS JOURNAI- NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

In the essays young Moshe muses about nature, to\&'n life, famil-v, people,
religion and politics, and shares memories of his former and favorite home,
Kremenets. Moshe u,rote:

lKremenets] is tamous for its synagogue. It is big, rvide and very tal1....The
synagogue has been standing for more than roo -vears. The-v also sa-Y that
czar Nikolai the First set the cornerstone for the slrnagogue' The torvn is sur-
rounded by very tall mountains. The top of the mountains is ruled bv the
cold. From there 1,ou can see the entire town and IBo kilometers] be1'ond.

The "mountains" around Kremenets to\,\'er impressivelY over the towtl,

but they are not as high as they probably seemed to young Moshe. His
familiar surround had been the lolt, land of Slar'r-rta. The Kremenets region
is set in the beautiful valle-v of the Ikva river. It is a city of churches, with
their steeples and domes visibte at every turn. The surrounding forested
rnountains veil a fortress dating from the twelfth century. The active
-young Moshe happily r,vandered those flowering hills,
where today there
are, besides Kremenets Park, sk regional nature presen''es, filled with flora
and fauna. As he r,vrites in an essav called "The Sky":

When I r,r,as a chi1d, the skt'seemed like a hat on the rvorld. \\rhen rve lived
in Kremenets, rve u,onld climb tl-re sulrounding mountains. It seemed to me
that t1.re skies came dou-n on the earth. I u'ould start running to hold in mv
hand the u,onderful blue stuff that made up the skv. I ivould run until I got
tired and then I n ouid sit dou'n for rest. But nolr, I knou' that the skies are not
made of stuff that rve can feel in our hands. Still I lor,e the s\'r,ery much. . . .
I also like the clouds ven'tnuch. I sit silently and r,r'atch the clouds.s

As dusk fell, Moshe made his way down the slopes to a home fiiled with
goo d -humo red laughter, r,r,armth, and security.
Life in a shtetl did not preclude travel for its more affluent and cultured
residents. Indeed, as with Moshe's father, travel was often essentiai to their
Iivelihoods. And besides visiting relatives, Moshe's familv frequently visited
Odessa, the major Ukrainian port on the Black Sea. Odessa rvas an exotic
city, a historical crossroads of culture betrtreen East and West, an d North
and South. It was the Russian nexus of secular Jewish culture, home to Jew-
ish writers and musicians, as r,r,'ell as an earlv center of Zionism' Finally, and
even toda-v, Odessa is a resort destination. More than once Sheindel trav-
eled to Odessa's seacoast heaith spas. There she took the "grape cure," a
diet consisting exclusively of grapes, reputed to cure numerous maladies.
Moshe r,r,,nly cited his mother's grape cure as one dubious example among
m-vriad such tads, all of r,r,hich he regarded skepticall-v.
During these -vears frequent r..isits to the Pshater household maintained
Moshe's sense of belonging to quite a sizable clan. Among the journe,-vs to
Slar,.uta-four hours each n al' in a horse dra',vn cart-an anniversary cele-
bration of his grandparents shone bright as a star in Moshe's memor\'. Its
impression on him is hard to overestimate, particularlv because the ensu-
ing darkening times offered nothing to compare -'vith its brilliance.
One hundred and three guests \\'ere present, most of them relatives, and
man-v of them dignitaries. NIoshe remembered sitting on his grandfather's
lap, who "sat like a king at the table."s Moshe was in awe of his tall and
powerful grandfather, dressed in fine cloth and presiding with regal bearing
over the momentous event. Had it been in a nineteenth century novel, that
scene of celebration and domestic grandeur would have served to sho"t'the
high water mark, and the beginning of the end, of a small dynasty.

8
SPRING 2O04 THE FELDENKRAIS JOURNAI- NO. 17

Moshe admiringly studied his grandparents' fine, monogrammed plates.

He rt atched the lights that danced hypnoticalll. in the reflections from his
diminutive grandmother's grand jeu,'els. He r,vandered through the comfort-
ingly familiar-and 1,et hauntingly immense-palace, eating slt eets and
visiting the separate kitchen that,,rras used onl1, once a vear during the eight
davs of Pesaclz (Passor,er). He r,.isited the stream that ran beside the house
r,rrhere he had plaved n hen still a toddler. His doting aunts chased him,
teased, tickled, and shor,r,ered him r,r,ith affection. He ran gleefullv to his
grandfather's speciallv constructed su kka, its roof covered u,ith branches,
Iike a modern patio room, but imbued r,r,ith spiritual sl.mbolism.
The anniversary memories of securiry and solidarity are based on Moshe's
audio taped trance work rvith the psychologist Eva Kirschner, mentioned
earlier. ),lemories carrying diametrically opposite f'eelings, also from times
at his grandfather's house, are on the same tape:

Strange memories. . . I have. In the to\,vn was shooting and the house of
grandfather r,vas opposite the big lmarketl plaza. And I remember, er,ery
|er,rr that rvent there, thev shot him. And they rvent into lourl house and
destroyed. And r,ve went to this uncle because he had a basement. It r,vas
three stories dor,vn. . . There was an unseen door that -vou could go dou,n.
And fdor'r,n thisl basement there r,vas another door. It r,rras three floors in
the ground, and there n as a hole, and I remember r,r,-hen we came there. . .

I ran into the house, we ran through the house, and they destroyed, kil1ed.
And lrvel went into the basement, and rve sat there da-v and night in the
basement. It \,\,as eternity.lo

The uncle was Lea Schlossberg's father, Simha. Later, during Soviet
times, Lea recalled that hiding place serued for marinating pickles, or to
scare her as a child with threats of irnprisonment, should she misbehave.
Tirere may r,vell have been pogroms in Slavuta in rgos or rgo6-there had
been almost 7oo in Russia in r9o5.11 Moshe rt ould have been just two years
old then and we know very little about this. But such memories bring irome
an essential part of Jer,vish experience in Eastern Europe. Erren the lives of
the most prosperous, well-established farnilies rested on foundations that,
from month to month, r,r,.ere desperatel_v insecure.
Concerning Kremenets, Moshe's school assignment book relates that it
"is known as the tor,r.n rthere the famous writer Rabbi Yitzhak Bar Levinson
was born and lived all his life. The seed of knor,r,ledge that he planted in our
town was not in vain because it bore great fruits."l2 Levinson (rz8B-rB6o)
r,vas the foremost proponent of the Haskalah in Russia.
An "Enlightenment" movement, Haskalah Judaism emphasized ration-
ality and bridging the cultural differences betr,r,een Ier,vs and Christians.
Bar Levinson was instrumental in bringing Haskalah to Eastern Europe,
.,vhere it became a pon erful cultural force during the nineteenth century.
Haskaiah promoted Hebren and Russian literacy in education, and the
pr-rrsuit of secular sciences, handicraft, and agriculture. Levinson used
scholarship to prove that the Jews were flrst an agricultural people: it r,r,as
only because of the historical restrictions placed on Jews that trade
assumed such a central role in Jeudsh life.
Concerning Levinson, Moshe's schoolbook writing continued:
Ther, say, in his Iifetime he had manv oppollents but rvith his death they
reconciled u,ith his ideas. The proof tbr it is that t\vo vears ago, at the 5oth
anniversan, of the death of this great man, the learned men of Kremenets
held a mernorial ceremonv at the big svnagogue and among the people that
attended \vere manv of the Hasidic people.13

I
 THE IiELDENKRAIS JOIIRNAI, NO. 17 SPRTNG 2OO4

Moshe's words sho."v an openness to both Hasidic and Haskalah ideas;

more evidence that his family was not doctrinaire.
But after the assassination of Czar Alexander tr in rBBr, it became evident
that Jews would never be accepted into the established system. Alexander rr
had been a irumane, beloved, reform-minded ruler, urho freed the serfs and
enfranchised the Jelrrs. \\rith his death, life for Russian Iervry took a long step
backr,vard. Old restrictions \\'ere re-imposed and ner,,,r ones added. The
Czarist regime adopted a policv of inciting violence against Jer'rrs to deflect
the emerging revolutionary movenlent.
In response, the polarities of Ier,r,ish culture gre$r extreme: Hasidism
turned to."t ard the past, fbrsaking the spontaneity that had been its well-
spring. And the Jews r,vho had been drarvn to Haskalah embraced the ner,r'
utopian rationalisms of N{arxism and Zionism. Both cailed on Iews to bring
into being a new lvorld r,vhele they r,r,ould no longer be unr,velcome.
NIoshe's parents \,vere among the man-v r,rrho embraced the Zionist vision.
N{oshe's thinking and character rvas sl-raped b}, the threats and restric-
tions of brutal anti-Semitism. Current or recent examples of anti-Semitism
echoed the tales of persecution that fllled Jelrrish historl and liturgv. At a
very voung age, IIoshe developed a defiant attitllde tor,vard any persecu-
tion, and grer,r, determined to acquire the means to defend himself.la In
the books NIoshe r,r,ould come to -"trite \,r,e occasionally flnd anecdotes
that give insights about his formative experiences. 7n The Potent Self
Nloshe remembers:
... being taken to a smail r.illage in early childhood r'r,here I sar'r'a pig being
killed for Christrnas. 'I'he go4' sight and the sct eams of the animal made an
indelible impressior.r on me. I imagined m)1self t'ed up and helpless in the
hands ol'adults, rvho cou1d, atter all, do the same thing to n.re if the-y decided
to do so. I can nor,rr see quite clearll, ho\\r m)'previous experience led to a
great sensitivity on this plane and i-rorv subseqttent e\rents con{irnled me in
mv apprehension" I had to become strotlg and alr'r'avs be readv. And oni-v
later, on reachir.rg a Black Belt standard in judo, clici I to a certaiu measure
rvork out the kink in me due to that unfortunate experience.rs

Moshe's r,r,,ide-ranging athleticism del'eloped his remarkable strength

and capabilities, and lurthered his goals of seif-defense. For Mosire, physi-
cal prowess, intelligence, and mobility in both. thought and action, r,vere
matters of li1'e and death.
B--v r9rz, tire Feidenkrais fatnily moved north to the larger town of Bara-

nor,,ich, almost 3oo miles fi'onr Kremenels. Baranovich is located in present-

day Belarus around ioo miles southrvest of N{insk. Like Slar,'r-rta and I(reme-
nets, Baranovich Ia1'r,t ithin the Russian Pale ol Settlerlent, and Jert's there
lvere subjecl to the same Czar-imposed restrictiot-rs. HistoricaliY, the Jews
in the region \rvere even poorer than the VolhYnian Jer,vs of Slar,uta and
Kremeners. And the -young tor,tn of Baranovich lacked amenities. Most
houses made no pror.ision for irot u,ater, and people took cold shor,vers out-
side. N,ioshe remembered taking cold shou,ers as a boy.16
Bar-anorrich rvas founded as a railrvay station, in r87r, by the Moscorv-
Brest Public Railrva\,s. There, the East-West rail iine connecting Poland with
Russia crossed the North-South one that contrected the Baltic states rvith
the Ukraine" It gained a reputation as a boomtown. After rgo3, when it'nvas
authorized for Jelr,ish residence, it became a magnet for many entelprising
young Jertrs. On one side of the main street of Baranovich rvere the stores
and shops, but on the other side rvere only farms. By Czarist larv, Jews were
not allor,r,ed to live on farmland, and could not build on that side of the

lo
SPRING 2OO4 THE FEI-DENKRAIS JOURNAI- NO. 17

street. Barano\{ch became a focal point for the business of pror,.isioning

soldiers. The town grew exponentially and storehouses, warehouses, and
r,r'orkshops sprang up. The city's buiidings were constructed from logs
harwested from the hearry forests surrounding the town. Aryeh Feldenkrais'
timber business found a naturai home in Baranovich, where both forests
and rail transportation existed together. The move there was likely meant
to coordinate ArVeh's capabilities r,r,ith N{ichael Pshater's business. ArVeh
had probably intricatelv assessed the social and economic value of moving
his family to Baranovich. But the exigencies of history, especially for Jelvs,
gave even "intelligent" choices unpredictable outcomes. Aryeh's ostensibly
promising move could not have led his family to a more precarious location.
Baranovich appears to have been a harsh place, much Iess inviting than
Kremenets. Moshe was unhappy about his family's move, at least initially.
He regretted having to move so far from his grandparents and aunts, and
losing his beloved hills around Kremenets. In rgr5, Moshe knew Hebrew
lvell enough to lament in his schoolbook, "I loved picking roses. In our city
Kremenets rve had tlt o big parks in which there were mostly roses... Now
that lve live in Baranovich there are no roses that I loved so much, and I
miss them beyond 1,y616ls."tz
Love of nature appears again and again in young Moshe's writing, and
perhaps even shaped his aspirations, as in the fantasv essay titled "Botani-
cal Garden":

I am a botanical gardener. N1 da-v I r,r,ork in the garden that is so dear to me.

In the early morning I arvake and get to my I,r,,ork. I flrst plant the tresh, lvet
plants. Then I fix the rorvs destroyed b-v thier.es. I sr,veep the garden, and
water the ner,v flor,vers and plants. Thev nod their heads as if to thank me.
With jov I enter my home to eat my meal.lB

Moshe adored his little sister. Moshe's parents'last chiid, Malka, meaning
"Queen," was born in Baranovich in r9r+. The onl-v giri, she lvas "spoiled"
accordingly.ls In Moshe's schoolbook is a section called "My Family, " but it
is nritten almost entirely about Malka:

Members of mv iarnilv are fen. Benveen thern I like mv little sister most. A
tr,vo and ahalf year old girl rvho is alu,ays quiet. Only if -you take her doll or
ball does she begin to cry. \\rhen she rnn as sick, she lr,as prohibited from going
outside. \\lhen she rvas alloived to go out, hor,v happy she r,r,asl Like a poor
person looking for sustenance r,vho suddenly finds great happiness and
needs no gift from human beings. \,\rhen she came in fron.r outside she imme-
diatelv ran to me and leaned against my knees. A s11ght shiver runs through
m-v bod-v tiom her gentle touch. When I come home ti'om the Heder or the
synagogue on Shabbat or Yom l'or,, she runs tou,ard rne rvith open arms like
Abraham torvard t}'re three guests.20

Though he would never have children of his own, a striking empathv

r,vith children stayed with Moshe for all of his life. And we can see here
that, even as a child, he was unusuallv sensitive to the power and feelings
of gentle touch. As an adult Moshe avowed that touch is "the most healing
force in the world."21
Moshe's assignment schoolbook, rtrritten at age eleven, also reveals his
sense of humor and his early interest in psychology. Writing about life in
Baranor,ich, he is an astute observer:
In oL11' town there are many crazy people. Most of then-r rvent crazy due to
too much studv. One crazv person, Lebish, is his name, tends to r,valk in the

ll
 THE FELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 20O4

streets and -yell "bread, money". And there is another one rthose name is
Mendel. He runs constantllr, because rough boys scare and chase him. He
r,valks in his crumbled hat, torn pants, big torn boots, r,vith a stick in his hand
like our fathers during the exodus from Egypt. And there is another one that
s\,vears at the lvhole r,r,or1d. He s\\rears rvith every part of his body.22

As a heder (religious school) boy, Moshe was intenseiy studious. Here he

describes a da-y at school:
In the morning I n ake up, r,r,ash, get dressed, go over my homervork to
remember it rveli. Then i drink a cup of tea and go to tbe heder. The teacher
has not lret arrived, and I revier,r, the homer,r,ork for the third time. \\lhen rve
see the teacher coming, al1 the boys immediately sit dorvn around the table.
During the lesson there is silence. But there is one boy that tells a joke or
makes a face and al1 the bo1.s laugh. \\tren I come home, I read in the book
for half an hour. Then I do m1, homervork for about three or four hours. The
oral homervork I leave for the evening. At the sixth hour [6pnrr] all the boys
'"vho study rvith the same teacher get together and rve go into the woods.
!\4ren r,r,e are betr,i een the tail bushes I stand still and look at the sky like a
dreamer. I dream pieasant dreams. \,Vl-ren I return I drink tea or read or chat
a littie and then go to s1eep.23

With the possible exception of the few years after he flrst immigrated to
Palestine, Moshe had scholarly habits for the rest of his life.
Kremenets had hosted arguing Rabbis. The battles in Baranovich, hou,-
ever, would be fought within and beyond religion-between broad social
movements, and between armed soldiers. In Kremenets, traditional reli-
gious sensibility faced opposition from the rationalistic Haskalah. In Bara-
novich, the ner,v ideological movements of Marxism and Zionism laid siege
to the entire religious establishment.
Revitalizing the Hebrew language was a Zionist ambition: it would be
the "secular" Ianguage of the new Jewish nation. Haskalah too promoted
a Hebrew revival, but as a r,vay to maintain faith and identity while Jews
became active citizens, assimilated into the greater society. Moshe's father
insisted that his son perfect his Hebrew, even before he had full command
of Russian. Soon Moshe was reading the Zionist newspapers coming out of
Poland and Russia.
Although the move to Baranovich had been a difficult adjustment, Moshe
was resilient, and Baranovich held unique attractions. The town was intei-
lectually lively and culturally stimulating. Among the new organizations
spreading Zionist values through Eastern Europe were youth groups with
an athletic emphasis. The Israeli Maccabi games originated from Zionist
groups in Eastern Europe. Given Moshe's love of sports, he probably partic-
ipated in their activities.
Out of young Moshe's intellectual enthusiasm grew passions for physics
and mathematics, and he became absorbed in the emerging sciences
of neurology and psychology. Moshe tended to choose books that pointed
toward people's untapped potentials. "I read an enormous amount of
Forel. . . . lAugust] Forel n as one of the first who wrote about sex and the
way we now conceive it. It was one of the first books [for me] . . . I read it
when I was 12 years old."24
August Forel (rB4B - rg3r) was one of the great biologists at the turn of
the century. NIoshe was excited about a book Forel published in r9o5, at the
height of his scientiflc reputation. The Sexual Question carried Forel into

t2
SPRING 2OO4 THE FELDENKRAIS JOURNAI. NO. 17

the best-seller lists, and made his name synonymous lvith controversy. In it
he demanded complete legal equality of the sexes, recognition of domestic
iabor, decriminalization of all consensual sexual activity, and the free avail-
ability of contraceptives. Forel's avant-garde stances helped plant the seeds
for Moshe's contributions to the just-beginning, century-long sexual revo-
lution. Moshe's ry49 Body and Mature Behauior advanced his or,rm ideas
about sex, and his posthumous The Potent Self gave special focus to sexual
issues. Moshe's continuing interest in the problems and promises of sexual
relationships had both personal and intellectual meanings for him.
It is remarkable holv many chords Forel seems to have struck with the
young Moshe. Forel may have given Moshe his flrst introduction to the
exciting nelr, field of neuroscience. Forel may have also brought Moshe's
attention to the emerging clinical discipline of hypnosis.
In the decade or two before and after rgoo, neurologists commonly
investigated hypnosis, and Forel was one of its important pioneers. Neurol-
ogists studied hypnosis experimentally, and used it therapeutically. It was
the method of choice for early clinicians such as Iosef Breuer and Sigmund
Freud. Hlpnotic suggestibility raised questions about the relationship
between voluntary and involuntary action, and how mental images affect
physiology, learning, and behar,.ior. All of these questions piqued
Feldenkrais' curiositv and formed a basis for his subsequent explorations.
From everl.thing we know about Moshe's character, he was likely enthu-
siastic about hypnosis' prospects to develop new human capacities. Ten
years after his flrst reading of Forel, Moshe's flrst book on the subject of
psycholo gy treated Emile Cou6' s outo sugge stion technique. His interest
in hlpnosis continued as he explored Iohannes Schultz's autogenicsinLhe
r93os. In his last period, Moshe would examine the hypnotherapeutic dis-
coveries of Milton Erickson. After the initial period of involvement with
Cou6's work, Moshe probably never formally practiced hypnosis. But he
became a master of the verbal nuance and nonverbal empathy that are
native to the hypnotist's art. Moshe's later methods surely owe a debt to his
understanding of hlpnosis, yet even his childhood notebook shows Moshe
enjoying engagement in reverie and dream-like states. As we see Moshe's
work develop, we should recognize that its roots include explorations he
began while still a child.
At the same time Moshe was engaging lvith Forel's utopian ideas, his
hometown was becoming a focus of the eastern front in World War I. And
when World War r arrived in Baranovich, it remained there for four and a
halfyears.
Moshe's assignment schoolbook was penned during the flrst half of
r9r5, while he was eleven, and before the conflict reached Baranovich. But
Moshe's nostalgia shows here that life had already begun to change: "We
like the town park in Baranovich. It is a pitv that there is no order as usual.
Two years ago lt'hen the music played, there was great interest to go in
there, breath fresh air, walk in the paths and listen to the musicians play."zs
It seems likely that Baranovich lost its "usual order" lvhen it became a Rus-
sian command center and garrison town in rgr4.
Later in the schoolbook comes an unexpectedly chilling essay, a clarion
foreshadorving of what was on its way toward Baranovich. Young Moshe
gave it an eerily Dosto_vevskian title, "From the Notes of One of the Expelled":

It happened not long ago in the vear ofrgr5. A poor person came to our door
and before asking for charitv, he held out to my mother a scroll.

l3
7

THE FELfJENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

The Words of the Scroll

And in the scroll it was written: The town from which I was expelled is on the
German border. On the Passover holiday, the Germans shot from artillery.
The House of Study',vas very ciose to the target of the shooting and because
of that sixteen Jews rvere killed. The rest of them fled. Women with children
and infants in their arms ran r,vild in the streets. Most of them were killed.
The rest of them crar,vled on their bellies in the snow so the bullets r,vould not
hit them. Because of the crawling many people died. Many of the children
got sick with typhus that broke out between them. The rich man in the town
took the Torah scroll in his hand and fled. The commander met him and
said: "Are you going to meet the Germans rvith 1'our Torah?" And immedi-
ately hung him.
A Jer,v who carried heating oil to seil met u'ith Cossacks who asked him
if there are a 1ot of Germans in the Polish city. He said: "A few." Then they
went to the Christians u,ho carried heating oil after him. And they answered:
"A 1ot." And they immediatelv attacked the Jeu'and stabbed him: "Iew, you
\,\,anted us to fal1. " And thef immediatel-v took him and hanged him. These
are the rvords of the scroll.26

It n ould not be long before Moshe rvould gain flrst-hand experience of

Cossack highwaymen. From his recollections of chiidhood from his session
with Eva Kirschner:
We rvere in grandfather's house. [My father] r'vent lto Slar,uta] for his busi-
ness to Iook for something. . . . The war was here. . . \\lhen we had to go back
home. . . itrvas a border. . . andwe couldn't flnd free passage. . . . We went
from the house in a winter cart. . . six people. A farmer. . . a Ukrainian. . . was
driving the cart. [The Cossacks] stopped him. . . And all the travelers were
Jews. . . and they started to take all the money that they had. With the side
of the rifle, they killed two. . . [My father] saw that there's nothing to lose, so
he pulled from the winter cart one of the [long] poles [that go to the horses].
He hit the man r,vho was leading them over the head and killed him. And the
others fled. [But] when we came back to Baranovich, [my father] had a bro-
ken arm. And they brought him to the hospital.27

Moshe adds that it was an occasion when he really respected his father.
During the war the family business suffered. "The forest trade collapsed
and the family suddenly lost all its property." As Aneh's business dwindled,
the family increasingly relied upon Sheindel's resourcefulness. "She visited
the army camps near the town, bought \(hatever she could find from the
people who rvorked there and sold it for a tin-v profit to those in the town
who still had money to buy. . . lbutl to those in need she sold on'credit,'
well aware that these debts would never be paid."28 Sheindel set a valiant
example for Moshe during these troubled times, for she aiso labored to help
the homeless Jewish refugees streaming in from the towns and villages that
were now battlegrounds.
\Atren Moshe recollected his childhood with Eva Kirschner, he obliquely
referred to an event, or group of events, as "the crisis. "2s We do not know all
of what this "crisis" entailed. We know that disturbing forces pressed in
upon Moshe, casting darker hues over his memories. lve cannot construct
an exact chronology, but a set of terrible circumstances and events befell
Moshe, his family, and his society, in rapid succession. These following
events, and the feelings and choices they engendered, would be of
paramount consequence for Moshe's life.

t4
SPRI\6 20O4 .THE FEl,DE],IKRAIS
JOIIR\AL NO. 1I

REFERENCES
1 N'Ioshe Feldenkrais, Tlrc Elusiue Obuiotrs (Cupertino, California: Meta Publications,
r98.1), p. B;.

z Elie \Viesel, Sotrls ort Fire: Portraits and Legends of Hasidic l,Iasters (NervYork: Simon
and Schuster, 19;2) p. 257.
3 lvloshe Feldenkrais, personal intenier,r., Amherst, Nlassachusetts, 1981.

4 Wiesel p. +2.

5 Nat Golick, genealogy chalt.

6 Gideon Katznelson. "Biographical Notes," SheirdeL Felderrkrals (Tel-,tviv, Israel: r966)
P 3r'
7 l,loshe Feldenkrais, "The Grass," Hebre,,r,school jotrrnal (r9r5).
B N{F, Hebre\\. school journal, "The S\.. "
g NIosheFeldenkrais,astoldtoEr.aKirschner,"ChildhoodN4emories,"audiotape,
earh'1970s.
ro N'lF, "Childhood N{entories."
u Fraciszek Bujak, Tlrc Jeu.,ish Questiotr in Polartd (tgtg).
12 N,lF, Hebrerv school journai.
13 N{F, Hebrerv schooljournal.
t4 Nloshe Feldenkrais, Feldenkrais Professional Training Program, course,
San Francisco, CiA, r975.
rs NIoshe Feldenkrais, Tlrc Potertt Self (San Francisco: Harper and Ror,-, 1985) p. 82.
r6 Nlichel Silice-Feldenkrais, personal communication.
U MF, Hebrer,r. school journal.
18 N{F, Hebrer'rr school jor-rrnal, "Botanical Garden. "
t9 Ljora Palucr'i, pehollal conrnrtrniciiriorr.
zo N{F, Hebreu,schooJ journal, "NIypnrnilr,."
21 Moshe Feldenkrais, personal communication, 198o.
22 NIF, Hebrer,v school journal.
23 trlF, Hebrer,v school journal.
z4 NIF, Hebreur school journal.
25 NIF, Hebrerv school jor-rrna1.
26 NIF, Hebrerv school journal.
z; NlF, Clrildlroud nrerrrorie..
28 Katznelson p.31.
29 NII-, "Childhood N{ernories."

l5
 THE IELDHNKRAIS JOURNAI- NO. 17 SPRING 20O4

r6
SPRING 20O4 TIIE F[],DENKRA1S JOURNAL }iO. 17

Adam Cole

Mathematics and the Feldenkrais Method:

Discovering the Relationship

i'picaliy in mathematics classrooms ranging from elementary to college

I level, math teachers, supported b.v their textbooks, present a model r'r,av
I of thinking about their subject which, when followed, will enable a sttt-
- I dent to solve an1, kind of problem. Often, the class divides itself into tu,'o
I loose camps: those who alread-v think according to the model, and those
r,vho think in another way. Those rvhose thinking style matches the model r,r,ill tend
to succeed early on and r,vill be rer,r,arded. The rest of the students are left r,vith a
choice: Think like a mathematician or accept failure. Most of the time the teachers,
who r,r,ere themselves the types that naturally matched the model, wiil be unable to
offer their students any explanation of honr to change one's thinking style and will
instead stick to the surface elernents of math instruction: drilling, memorization of
formulas, getting the right ans\ver.
Both the "math types" and the "non-math types" r,rdll lose as a result of this
approach. Obviouslv those lr,ho cannot adapt their thinking by themselves, even
though they may be extremelv bright and capable, rvill be forced to resign them-
selves to failure. But the "math t-ypes" r,rrill also suffer because, failing to under-
stand their olvn thought process, thel'r'r,ill often not be able to improve it when
they reach a more formidable math challenge. The success/failure striation n ill
continue to \,veed students or-rt and only a ven, fe,,r, r,r,ill ever make it to the truly
exciting regions of mathematics. Through all of the rveeding-otit process, the
aspects of math that are most interesting and beautiful will be lost to evenrone
engaged in the shuffle of "-"vho is better than u,hom."
I had aln aJrs desired a lr,av of bridging the gap betlveen "math types" and "non-
math tvpes," and the Feldenkrais N'Iethod of somzrtic education, r,l,ith its focus on
limitless improvement and making the impossible possible, seemed to offer a
flicker of hope. Nerrertireless, it took a good deal of time and self-experimentation
before I lr,as able to use the Method to begin to understand the process of mathe-
maticai thinking in mvself.
I imagined being able to retain my calcuius the way I had retained arithmetic. I
craved an ease ol motion in my mind, an alternative to the stiffness, the spasmodic
clutchings at the back of mv head, and the sense of panic I got looking at the sym-
bols and nurnbers. I wished that there rvas a potion I could drink that lvould enable
me to think cleariy, blorving the fog off of my thoughts so that I r,vould be able to
see r,vithout impediment in an1, direction.
I believed that magic potion was "the perfect math teacher." He or she could
explain things to me in such a r,r,ay tirat the subject r,r,ould become very easy, so
that in a single glance, I n ould see all of mathernatics' inner.",i orkings and under-
stand hor,r,thev fit together. I imagined such a teacher must exist, but I had never
found him or her. Several of my math instructors n ere excellent; one of them used

t7
--
THE FELDENKRAIS IOURNAI, NO. 17 SPRTNG 2OO4

to give lectures that made me gasp, but I was never able to transfer those
glorious explanations into my or,vn head for keeps. This constat-rt failing in
the face of a genuine love fbr the subject of math was a source of real sad-
ness and pain for me.
\\hile working as a prof'essional pianist, I r,r'ent to a Feldenkrais instructor
to improve m-v injured hands. The more I leamed about \,1oshe Feldenkrais
and his approach to educating the uhole person, the more excited I became.
\\hen the opportuni8r came lor me to take the tbur-vear Feldenkrais practi-
tioner training, I h-as thinking bevond the improvement to m-v body and
began to imagine impror..ing all of myself. I r,r,ondered if NIoshe's r,vork
would confirm what I had ah,vays believed to be true: Mathematical ability
could be improved in nonstandard ways. There might be a path of
approach other than the traditional methods that had al-'vays failed me.
I was encouraged when my trainer, Carl Ginsburg, upon fielding some
of my questions about mathematics, related a storv that one time jn
Amherst, Moshe had written upon the blackboard the equation )f(r)dr=F(r),
Feldenkrais had announced proudly to the class that this r'vas rvhat his
Method was all about, that Functional Integration (rr) itl math and in his
work was one and the same. Both those r,t ith and rt-ithout a mathematical
background had been equallv mystified, but no expiat-iation ever tbllou'ed.
I myself still lacked a fundamental understanding of basic calculus. I
kner,v roughlv what the sl mbols rteant: Thev are the flrst hall ol the Funda-
mental Theorem of Calculus. Those s]'mbols \{ere put together in the r6th
century b\r Sir Isaac Neuton and Gottfried Leibniz, and ther.nlade possible
an entire ner,r,r,i,'orld in scientilic discor,etl'. Stiil, m1'understanding oln-hat
those s-vmbols actually represented rvas fat gone from mY rnind. I had r-ised
them in high-school and in college, but I had ne\rer mastered their meaniug'
I had desired to see if I could use the Feldenkrais Method to come to
a better understanding of mathematics. Nor,v I found that I ll'ould need a
better understanding of mathematics to comprehend Feldenkraisl Some-
how', the discipiines were related in a fundamental r,vav. I thought it rvould
be worthwhile to attempt my experiment, even though no one seerned to
be able to offer me any kind of guidance for ho"v to proceed.

VISION AND UNDERSTANDING

Galrranized bir Carl's tempting story, I set out to determine if I could use
Feldenkrais to improve my math skills in the r,vay I n as using it to cirange
my bod-v. g1rsry dav at lunch I n alked or drove to the library on the college
campus near our training facilitv and found a book on calcr"rlus of one kind
or another. I rvould set mysellin a comfortabie chair and begin to read.
I put some constraints on mvself. I rvanted to be able to read a math
textbook the r,vay math professors do, straight through, r,vithout skipping
around. Because I lr,anted to focus on the difficulty, I refused to do exercises
r,r,ith a pencil and paper. I rvould read, think, and nothing else, measuring
my levei of abilitv and understanding as I rvent. True to the N{ethod, I u'ould
proceed oniy until I began to feel tired, at which point I rvottld stop.
\Vhat I r,vas really doing lvas learning to pa)'attention to myself rvhile
reading. The subject of the books had r,,ery little to do rvith the process,
except for the nature of r'r'riting that math instmction requires. A math
textbook is a particulariy difficult thing to read. Each section is ritten
"t
concisely, rvith nothing extraneous added for detail or color, and the ideas
in a given chapter must be comprehended thoroughly for the nert chapter
to make sense.

t8
SPRING 2OO4 THE FEI,DENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17

My reading skills in general were not good. Though I had aiways read
voraciously, my ability to read quickly and for long periods had fallen off
since fourth grade, about the time I started wearing glasses for near-sight-
edness. \\4rile my interest in books had not lagged, I had always been aware
of how hard it rvas for me to sustain my attention. Mathematics and science
textbooks demanded uninterrupted thinking and were very difficult for me.
So in those flrst library sessions I explored my ability to focus my
thoughts while reading a sustained argument with iots of details, using the
techniques of the Feldenkrais Method to improve those skills. By obsen'ing
myself as I read difficult math concepts, I rvas becoming aware of hon, long
it took to iose that focus on the page, and more importantly, of what kinds
of things tended to cause me to lose it. Any improvement in mathematical
skill would really come about as a fringe beneflt of these experiments.
One of the mathematical exercises I set for myself was the complete
comprehension of a well-known proof in mathematics: the proof that riz is
an irrational number. Like all sophisticated proofs, this one required keep-
ing several complex ideas in my head while absorbing new information. I
had always found the reading of such proofs very tiring, but now, in true
Feldenkrais style, I had added the obstacle of not allowing myself to con-
tinue once I noticed myself straining. It is, of course, impossible for a begin-
ner to read the complete proof in thirty seconds, and so I was enormously
frustrated at my inability to make any progress! I was able to console myself
with the notion that paying attention to myself in the act of reading was
more important than feeling like a brilliant mathematician, but I did long
for the reward of understanding the proof in the whole of its beautv.
I chipped away at the proof for a couple of lveeks, stopping whenever I
found myself looking at the words rvithout reading them. One day as I read,
I saw a detail that I had never noticed before. Understanding this over-
looked detail brought the rest of the proof into clearer focus. As I found
myself able to read a larger chunk of the argument seamlessllr, I felt a
powerful sensation of release in my eyes, as if they were no longer straining.
It was very pleasant, and it served as a physical manifestation of my mental
illumination.
But how strange! Why should the muscles around my eyes rela-xwith the
sudden understanding of a mathematical idea? The flrst answer that springs
to mind is that I was straining to understand the proof, and when I finally
did, I rela-red. If that were true, did that suggest the converse, that by relax-
ing my eyes I could have understood the proof sooner, that the "tension" in
my eyes was retarding mv math skills?
The converse of a statement is not always true: A duck is a bird, but a bird
is not a duck. Nevertheless, as I continued to train in the Method, and as I
continued to read about math on the side, I kept the experience of my eyes
in the back of my mind, still not knowing exactly what to do with it.
As my vision changed dramatically over the four years of my training,
I began to see more profound connections between vision and mental
capacity. In iessons rvhich involr.ed scanning from left to right I noticed
deflnite areas where my eyes jumped, refused to scan smoothly, and places
where they could not really "see" at all. Having discovered these gaps, I
began to work my way back into my body to explore the causes. Among
other things, I discovered that limited flexibilit-v in my ribs and hips had
kept me from flnding a comfortable way to sit and, unable to Iind a stable
base, I could not easily adapt my head and shoulders to the demands of my
e_ves. As my training went on and I began to coordinate my ribs, head, and
shoulders, I began to recover certain eye movements, including a smoother

t9
 .IFIE FELDENKRAIS SPRTNG 2OO4
]OURNAL NO. T7

scan from left to right. The result on my reading, and subsequently my

thinking, was profound.
There is a story by Kurt Vonnegut called "Harrison Bergeron" in which
the government forces intelligent people aiways to wear earphones that
produce loud sounds that intermittently startle them, so that they are never
able to complete an intelligent thought. My difficulties in scanning brought
a simiiar curse to me. Without realizing it, I had been unable to maintain
my comprehension in an overly long sentence because I would lose the
train of the words with my eyes. Over time I had learned to think very
well in shorter gasps while negiecting longer arguments. I had excelled in
producing spotty improvisations on the piano, short poems, and gesture
drawings. I had avoided subjects like philosophy and logic. Books by rgth
century authors like Dickens and HenryIames, with their long compound
sentences, had been nearly impossible for me to follow. Similarly, math
textbooks, rvhich, as I said, require a reader to follow a single train of
thought for a significant duration, had prorrided a constant challenge.
As myvisual acuity improved, my reading skills recovered and I found,
to my delight, that I could comprehend long ideas from start to finish. A
change had occurred in my vision, but it lr,as reflected inmy mind.l could
read a mathematical proof ail the lvay through without a break. I r,rras better
able to take in a iong piece of music, another skill nhich had alu,avs caused
me difficulty. Even my or,r,n rvriting reflected my new focus as I began to
construct longer streams of ideas in my creati-".e rvork.
The breakthroughs I experienced r,r,.ith mv e\res r,r,ere onh, one piece of a
process I used to impror,e 11y u,hole self. There rvere other u,ays in rvhich I
was abie to discover hor,v the use of mv body manifested the patterns of and
hindrances to my thinking.

AN INNER SENSE OF SPACE

There are several levels of complexity on the road from counting to calcu-
lus. As children we begin with the number line. First we may master the skill
of counting up from 1 to 10. Then we count backwards from 10 to r. In time
we will come to see the number line as a continuous road for which we have
a single choice, left or right.
In arithmetic we learn to dance upon that line. By adding z and 3, we can
leap over 4 to land on 5. Multiplying and dividing give us even greater leaps.
Yet our calculations, while giving us inflnite options to jump, still offer us
oni-v one choice, a single dimension of mental movement: Ieft or right.
This ievel of functioning matches a child's needs. As infants we really
only conceive of yes or no dilemmas: I am hungry / I am full, I am wet /
I am drr,. As r,r,,e get a iittle older, we may become more sophisticated in our
thinking, but we remain committed to the yes or no idea. I want this / I
don't r,vant that. I really \vant this I I hate that. Arithmetic is an appropriate
skill to teach a child, because there is only one solution for every problem.
In aigebra a new concept is introduced: the uariable. This is the familiar
letter xrvhich can stand for any number at a/i. At Iirst, the x merely replaces
the blank in a common arithmetic equation, so "z + 3 = _" becomes "z + 3
= r " . Because we do not know what "r is at first, we understand that it could
be any number, and lve need to flnd out r,r,hich one it is. In this case the x
can onlv be 5.
Algebra truly comes into its own when tr,vo variables are used together
and allowed to play. Most often, r and y are the letters of choice. If I say
"x + 2
=y" I am setting up a relationship between the variables: .r and / can

20
SPRING 2OO4 TIIE }.EI,DENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17

be an-v ti,vo numbers in the entire universe as long as x is trvo less than y. If
r is 4, then y is 6; if x is 7ooo, then y is Tooz; and so on. The equation x + 2 = y
has lots of solutions and you can plot them on a two-dimensional map,
connecting them with a line. The more complex the relationship, the more
that Iine wiggles around on the page.
In order to understand algebra, a student must be able to recognize that
an equation is not a problem asking for a solution, but an expression of a
relationship, Iike a baianced scale. If Vou add something to one side and
you want to keep it balanced, you have to add the same amount to the other
side. Seeing the relationship between the tr,vo sides is more important than
using it to solve a problem.
Even if we never learn algebra, understanding such interrelationships is
essentiai for us to learn to move. At some point we realize that the parts of
our bodies are connected through our center. \Mhen we roli, we do not sim-
ply take our shoulders in one direction. In fact, one shoulder moves up and
the other moves down. In all human movement, there is a corresponding
balance betr,veen parts of the system.
I had an adequate understanding of such algebraic relationships in high
school, but when I reached calculus, I hit a wall. Even when I revisited the
subject in college, I was unable to master its most basic ideas. Something
about calculus was different from algebra. It ',vas harder, not just in the way
that adding was harder than counting, but in the way that comprehending
algebraic relationships was harder than adding. It required a new dimen-
sion of thinking.
Just as with reading, I discovered a way to improve my grasp of calculus
during my Feldenkrais training, this time by examining my sense of space.
In the second year of my training, I had begun to notice that my self-image
was physicallv inaccurate, but fit my ability to move. In my self-image I
resembled a stick of gum, with ividth and height but no depth. Side-bend-
ing came relatively easv to me, as did fonvard and backr,r,ard bending. I was
comfortable with linear motion, but I had little to no comprehension of
hor,v to twist both fonr,ard and to the right, or other such moves. I rarely
explored the functions that relied on these more complex movements
because they were ar,r,krt ard and occasionaliy painful.
One day I also discovered that, instead of seeing depth, I was only com-
prehending two dimensions in space with my eyes. Every morning lr,hen I

2t
 THE FELDENKRAIS ]OI]RNAL NO. 17 SPRING 20O4

looked across the gorge just outside our training facilit"v I would compress
the space of that half-mile of trees stretching down the hillside into a flat
picture. I kner,v objects were closer or farther awav only by their relative
size. Physiologically there r,r,as nothing wrong with my depth perception,
but I did not process the information verywell in mv mind.
Through various Feldenkrais lessons, as I began to gain an interior sense
of the space inside my bodv, the rvorld bel,ond my eves began to look differ-
ent as r,t eil. Objects took on a depth and solidity the1, had never possessed
before. I could adequatelv gauge distances of far-away objects and could
switch bet.ntreen near vision and far-away vision with ease.
The true turning point in my sense of internal and external space came
in a series of lessons taught by Donna Blank in which she introduced Laban
movement-concepts in anAwareness Through Movement (,A.rNa) format.
For a week I rvas asked to envision myself in the middle of a sphere and to
make movements that took me simultaneously to varying places on its sur-
face. I found the lessons excruciatingly difficult; the1, svsl made me an8ry.
But I persevered because I rvas beginning to sense that I lacked something
essential that would have made these lessons easiet.
In fact, I was missinglhe significance of deplh perception in human
function. Recognizing the struggle I faced in Donna's lessons, I recalled
many movements that had aiu,ays been difficult lor me that relied on a
greater sense of three-dimensionalitl-, an abilitv to see mvself as fitting into
a sphere as opposed to a circle: somersaults, headstands, er,en sitting com-
fortably on the floor, to list a feu'. These became easier lr,hen I started to flIl
out my internal image.
As I r,r,as coming to grips rtith w'hat I lacked in mv perception, I was also
dutifull1, studying calculus. I had gotten in the habit of paving closer atten-
tion to what I was reading, having improved my ability to piece details
together more effectively. While puzzlingover theorems about limits, I
contemplated sentences in my p31[ textbook such as this one:
"There exists a number 6 such that o4r-al< 6 impiies \f(x)-Ll< t"

It seems like a complicated sentence, and it is. But why? Just as in our previ-
ous equation, all of the letters represent numbers. In one sense, is it any
different than x + z - y?Yes, it is different in an essential way, and realizing
horv it r,vas different and r,vhat made it difficult provided me r,r,ith the clue to
connect m-y mathematical troubles with my inner sense of space and mY
abilitv to mo\re.
To understand the meaning of each s),mbol in the above sentence, one
has to differentiate betr,veen se-,,eral classes of unkno'"vns. There are layers
of relationships at rvork betr'r,een these variables, instead of a singie interac-
tion. \Vhen vou decide r,r,hat number -t is, -vou automatically get a corre-
sponding number for f(x);the tr,r,o are related like x and .yin -t + z - y. But
while x can be aqt ntnnber in the rt orld, a must be a particular number; it
stays still as .r moves, the wav a shoulder might remain still while the arm
explores a range of motion. Finallv, 6 represents the relationship between
the two; it stands for the shrinking space betli,een the moving number x
and the fixed number a.
There is a iarger reiationship at n'ork between that first group of variables
and the rest of the symbols in the sentence. Like 6, the letter s represents
a space between the variable flxJ and a flxed number 11 . Since the space
represented by 6 is shrinking, then the related space represented by s is
shrinking too. The overall picture is this: two poittts on a curuy line are
getting closer together, and as the horizontal distance between them (6)

,,
SPRING 2OO4 TIItr FELDE\KRAIS JOI'RNAL NO. 17

gets smaller, the vertical distance (e) gets smaller too. It's easy for most of
us to imagine those two points coming together like beads on a rvire, the
distances betlr,een them getting smaller and smaller, but in order to
describe this process mathematically so it can be used in calculations,
one must rely on the intricate relationships betu,een these three different
kinds of unkno\,vns.
We rnorre in,,va\,s that are just as complicated. \,\hen r,r,e rise up from
the floor in a gentle spiral, the relationship between our head and our feet
couid not be described in a simple mathematical equation, yet \,ve work it
out without trying. I, rvho thought of myself as a stick of gum, r,i,ho could
not go farther than a single relationship betr,r,een unknowns, had difficulty
making these more complex movements. They r,r.ere choppy. I found I
could think of one part of me moving rvith another, but could not imagine
the entire bodv r,vorking as a r,r,hole.
As I gained in m1, ability to become aware of myself as a whole body,
following the gesture of the movement instead of trying to keep track of
the component parts, something in my mind speciflc to mathematics r.vas
changing. This three-, four-, even five-dimensionality w,ith which I became
con\rersant as a moving person made clearer the varying levels of relation-
ships of unknowns in these complicated mathematical sentences. Sudder-rly
I could start to see the variables like clock-gears of varying sizes, each mol,-
ing at its own rate in comparison to the others, all the r,r,hile generating an
overarching idea.
The pieces I had lacked in my mathematical understanding I had lacked
in my physical vocabulary as lvell. By impror,ing my ability to experience
and move within space I had discovered for myself a more accessible n ay
to navigate among abstract mathematical concepts.

FUNCTIONAL INTEGRATION
Having improved the quality and complexity of my thinking, it was time to
use my improved skiils to determine the ansn er to N{oshe's riddle as stated
by Carl Ginsburg: Horv does the mathematical equationiflxldr=pk) con-
nect with the work r,r,e Feldenkrais practitioners do in Arvareness Through
Movement and Functional Integration Iessons? To answer that question, I
flnaiiv had to master the Fundamental Theorem of Caiculus, r,vhich I had
learned tr,vice before and had never been able to keep in my head. As
always, understanding Feldenkrais's lvork more fuily was the key to eluci-
dating the mathematical side of the puzzle.
Moshe examined our ingrained ideas about the improvement of a task
iike "standing." It r,vas generally thought that standing and other such phys-
ical acts could be "done correctly if one knerv hor,v." If one wanted to learn
hou, to stand "correctly," one had to determine the perfect way to stand,
measure every aspect of it, and then adjust oneself to the ideal model, piece
by piece. The sum total of this effort n ould be "proper standing. "
Moshe believed that it lvas too difficult and tedious to try and irnprove
things in this way. Instead, he expanded the fask, at which you could suc-
ceed or fail, into a furtction, w.hich was boundless, which couid aln ays be
improved a little bit more. He tar-rght people to integrate a higher level of
ability into their nervous system and then to compare it i,vith their previous
level. In this wa1,, thev could see their improvement and over time achieve
anv level of desired facility in standing without the usual stress of adjusting
to a dubious and constraining model.

23
7

TI]E FELI]E)JKRAIS ]OUII.\AL \O. 17 SPRING 20O4

This approach is anaiogous to the rva-y in r,r'hich Newton and Leibniz

solved the problem of calculating the area under a cunre, rvhich is what the
Fundamental Theorem is about. Here is a brief explanation of their process.
It's eas-v to calculate the area of a rectangle: It's the base times the height.
But what if you have a cun\. line running a certain distance from left to
right, and you want to knorv the area of the shape under it? Solving this
basic probiem enables -you to determine hor'r, a gas'"vill expand, horv a
planet urill act in its orbit, and anv number of other things that involve com-
plex relationships.
Before calcuius came along, you had to flgure out the height of the curue
at every point on it, drarv a box at each place, and add the area of all those
boxes together. But because there are an infinitenumber of points on a
piece of a curve you'd be adding boxes forever. Mathematicians had begun
to overcome this obstacle rvith the concept of limits, wirich summarize infi-
nite series of things, but it wasn't always eas-v to use limits to flnd the area
under a cLirye segment, and in some cases it rvas practically impossible.

24
SPRTNG 2OO4 THE FELDENKRAIS ]OIJRNAL No. 17

NeMon and Leibniz finding the area

disco.u.ered a better rt'ay. Instead of
under the piece of the curve you \vere Iooking at, why not take the bound-
aries away, let the curve go on inflnitely, and figure out the area under that?
It sounds harder to fir-rd the area of an inflniteiy large shape, but, just as in
Feldenkrais, remor,ing the boundaries really makes it easier. \\hen you let
the curve go on forever, vou no longer have to think about numbers. Instead
you can express the pure relationship between the curve and the area.
In mathematics, this relationship is called afunction, and, just as with
a human function, it can be differentiated so that you can look at a single
aspect of it. First, you examine how the cun/e acts betr,veen any two points.
For instance, if it resembles the rounded side of a swimming pool, then as
it moves from a in the center to b at the lip, it rises at a faster and faster rate.
By moving a and b closer together until they are practically on top of one
another, vou can actually tell hon, fast the culve is rising at any one point.
This is a little like being able to determine how fast a car is going b-v looking
at a snapshot of it.
Newton and Leibniz both understood that differentiation is a reversible
procedure, that one can start r,r,ith that snapshot or single point and rvork
back to a description of the complete curue. Being curious, they r,vent
another step and bctcktuards-differentiated the curueto see r,vhat r,r'ould
happen. Upon doing so, they ended up rvith a new function that described
ri:.e area tmder the curue.The difficuit calculation of adding an inflnite num-
ber of boxes was now unnecessary because r,vith reverse differentiation You
could solve a much simpler problem and get the same resultl
So, if you wanlto integrare a cur\re, meaning "flnd the area under a piece
of a culr,T, 1ine, " flrst describe the r,vhole clrlve as a function u,ith rto boun d-
aries (zx), then baclctuards-differentlarz it. \Vhat ]roll get is a brand ner,r,
function (x2) describing the infinite area under the rl,hole cun e. If -vou plug
numbers into the ner,r, function rrtrere the boundaries of your original curve
are (rz2 and 32), then subtract tl-re lorver uumbet lrom the higher one, You
get the specific areavou u,ere looking for (r44-9 = li5). Expressing space
becomes a matter of noticing a difference.
\Vhen lr,e differentiate in Feldenkrais, lve take a function like seeing, and
work lr,ith pieces of that function. \\hat happens when -vou differentiate the
act of scanning from the rest of seeing? Or r,vhat happens r,r,hen you look at
the relationship of the head to the bod1, r,l,hen you are looking at something?
Can you differentiate your movement so that the eyes move one waY rvhile
your head moves the other? We use this differentiation to encourage inte-
gration of the entire function into the system. Nloshe saw a parallel betlveen
the symmetry of differentiation/integration in a mathematical function and
differentiation/ integration of a human function.
He understood that it is difficult to integrate a new idea itrto the svsteln,
but it is relatively easy to differentiate it. We rnay have trouble connecting
the function of the e\res with the movement of the head. Perhaps if r,^"'e learn
to differentiate, mor..ing the head one \valr and the e-ves the other, r,l'e may
discover a better understanding of the reiationship betureen the tr,rro. After
spending some time improving this differentiation, we may rt'ish to re\,erse
our thoughts and bring the eyes and the head back together. But this
reverse differentiation is the integration that was so difficult before!
If instead of thinking of "seeing" as a fixed task, we understand it as a
function that can be improved forever, then r,ve have a r'r,a,v of judging our
visual acuitv that is better than a simple "success/failure" model. \&4ten
we re-integrate the movement of our eyes rvith the movement of our head
\,ve can compare hou, -"r,e11 we are coordinating them nor,r'as compared to

25
 THE FELDINKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

the beginning of a lesson. Our abiliff to gauge our improvement provides us

with an a\vareness of our function that we lacked before.
In mathematics, Leibniz and Nelr,ton made possible r'r,'hat had been
impossible by shor,r,ing differentiation and integration to be different aspects
of the same idea. Sirnilarl-v Feldenkrais, clearly inspired by the dual nature
of arvaleness, discovered that taking a human function apart requires
the same thought process as integrating that function into our behavior.
The result? Expressing spacebecomes a matter of noticing a dffirence,lhe
impossible becomes possible, and Moshe's statement that his w'ork can be
represented b), the expression If@ax=p(x) proves to be correct.

CONCLUSION
It is rather a strange thing that I should have been so captivated by the idea
that a Method which I explored to eliminate the pain in my hands could
improve my math skills. There was something in my desire to understand
mathematics that I could not see, a deeper desire for which mathematics-
abilit-v l,r,as merely the outward manifestation. The quest to solve a problem
r,vhich I could identifv instead led me through improvements rvhich I r,vas
unaware I needed.
In the Feldenkrais Nlethod u,e avoid concentrating on the details of a
client's dilemma. We Iearn instead to attain a state where \ve can perceive
a,,,r,hole person at once. In order to guide a person tor,vard improvement in
this state, r,r,e focus on details in their pattern while still maintaining the
vierv of the r,r,hole of them, the context surrounding them, our relationship
to them, the environment in rvhich we are i,vorking, and an-v other informa-
tion that relates to r,vho they are. Learning to focus while maintaining a
broad field of perception is one of the essential skills of the Feldenkrais
practitioner.
The true value of my experience as a Feldenkrais trainee u'as to hone this
skill. Unbeknownst to me, this is the precise ability that a matirematician
uses on a purely intellectual ler,'el to comprehend proofs and problems.
Overcoming some of the physical limitations to this kind of perception, I
began to experience the r,r,or1d in a netl'r,r.ay, learning to see details rvhile
relating them to a larger context, understanding mvself as a small piece of
a larger worid, Iearning hor,v I could make my r,vay through that r,r'orld and
relate with it. Because of my focus on mathematics, I r,r,as able to appl-v mv
improving skills speciiically 1<l 15., discipline and understand the path I
irad taken to reach my own improvement.
As a scientist, Feldenkrais undoubtedh, made use of tiris type of percep-
tion early on, but unlike many of his colleagues, ire endeal'ored to under-
stand how he was able to think in the r,rrav he did. Surely the model of inte-
gration, lr,here one is able to locus on a partictllar sectioll of a cr-rrve bY
maintaining the importance of the or.erall relationship of the function,
served as an inspiration to him.
I have irigh hopes for the use of this \lethod in r,t a.Ys that relate directly to
intellectuai improrret.nent. \'Iant-people remain convinced that their mentai
capacity, like theil phr,sical capacitl,, is limited, and that thev are suited for
certain kinds of thinking onlr'. As our rvork can open up possibilities for the
athlete or the performer, so it can for the thinker as well. The interrelation-
ship between the bodv and the rnind, just like the long-hidden relationship
betrveen integration and differentiatioll, can be seen as being whole and
inseparable.

26
SPRING 2OO4 THE FELDENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17

Pati Holman

A Conversation with Mia Segal Mia Segal, personallytrained by

Moshe Feldenkrais before his first
lsraeli training, has been a student of
his somatic work since they first met
in1957. She was a close personal assis-
pATr HoLMAr,r: Hello, Mia. We're interested in hearing horv you first tant of Dr. Feldenkrais until his death
came to know Moshe and be introduced to his work. Can you girre us in 1 984. Her vast experience and her
a little history? preservation of Moshe's philosophy
continue to inspire generations of stu-
rrra: I worked u,ith Moshe for many years prior to his Israeli training. That dents. Mia teaches master classes and
training took place r,r,hen I left Israel for a three-year visit in lapan. workshops as well as at trainings in
Europe, lsrael, and the United States.
ru: \\hat year did you begin your studies with Moshe?

ure: In rg57 I started working with him, but there wasn't a training. We just
started working together and I worked rvith him for rz years. Then mY family
and I left for Japan and that's when he did that training.

pn: Did yoll attend the ernl classes at Alexander Yanai at the time?

ure: In the rz years prior to that training, I did rr rvith NIoshe and I came to
the arrls r,vith him rvhen he n as teaching. I rvatched his teachings, worked
r,r,ith him in his private house, and gave rts together rt'ith him.

pu: Were you born in Israel?

rrrA: Yes, From m-y mother's side I am sixth generation Israeli' \\hen she
was born in Ierusalem, the Turks ruled the country. By the time she went to
school, it r,rras the British Mandate of Palestine. After finishing high school,
my mother rvent to study in Zurich and in Berlin. She spoke manv lan-
guages and for a while worked as a teacher. M-v father immigrated to Israel
in rgrz in the legenclary "second Immigration," rvith those r,vhom we call
the "Builders of the State." He lrras co-founder and joined the editorial
staff of the Labor Party ne\vspaper Dauctr.In 1948, rvhen the Jewish state
was established, he r'r,as asked to join the Ministry of Justice as the Legal
Draftsman of the State. He was also one of the r3 members of the Academy
tbr the Hebrer,v Language. At the time I was born, Israel i'r,'as under the
British Mandate, but of course nor.t' I am Israeli.

pu: Talk about the period that brought you to study i,vith Moshe. \\4rat
inspired you to meet him or come to him?

ure: Before I met Moshe, I left my home in Israel to be in Engiand, rvhere

m-v husband and I lived for a fewyears. My husband was a pilot in the Israeli

27
 THE FEI-DTNKRAIS JOURNAI, NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

air force, his aircraft crashed and he injured his leg very badly. We went to
London for special surgery. During that time, I became interested in the
Alexander Technique, and I found a good teacher there. MyAlexander
teacher, Charles Neil, was a good friend of Moshe. Then, when we left
London in 1953 and moved back to Israel, Charles Neil came to visit around
1957. He brought Moshe and it was then that I met him. He was looking
for someone to work with, as he was working by himself. Moshe said, "Will
you come and workwith me? I need help." Charles told him that I had good
hands. You know, I wasn't so sure that I wanted to work. My son had just
been born. Moshe suggested that I just come to watch what he did. I went
the next day and, as you see, I have been "there" ever since. I knewvery
little about Moshe at that time, but the first moment I saw him work, I
thought it was amazing, and I just felt like staying and watching. I don't
know how long I watched because I felt I hadn't the courage to do what he
was doing. I really don't remember when I started working, but suddenly
I was. So you see, there was no formal teaching program. I just watched
Moshe working, and then asked questions. And his answers, his patience,
and his clarity were mawelous. He really was a great teacher. And then
Moshe also became a good friend of my family and regularly spent week-
ends at our home. My parents, husband, and our children and friends all
got used to Moshe and family members spending the weekend in discus-
sion and experimentation. Much of it was what we call today the
Feldenkrais Method.

pn: So there were no reservations from your experience -"vith the Ajexander
Technique?

MrA: Not at all. Though it was different fromAlexander in approach, the

wealth of techniques and the fundamental philosophy in Moshe's work
was similar. Charles Neil and Moshe were very good friends, and he was
very impressed with what he saw with Moshe. Charles even urote to
me and said, "Please staywith him and maybe I'll come and studywith
him too." But Charles died shortly afterwards at a veryyoung age. And I
continued working with Moshe.

pu: Was Charles Neil a direct student of F.M. Alexander's?

ure: He was, though he split from Alexander. Charles was sponsored by

Sir Stafford Cripps, who was the British Minister of Colonies, and his
wife, Isabelle Cripps, who ran her orrun center. At the time, he had some
well knor,r,rr students like Aldous Huxley, who actually preferred him
to F.M. Alexander and went to take lessons with Charles at the Isabelle
Cripps Center.

pn: And that's howyou came to know Charles Neil?At the Isabelle Cripps
Center?

vrre: Yes. My main interest was that I wanted to be able to help my hus-
band, who was not well. But I became progressively more interested in
Alexander work. Charles told me that he wanted me to learn from him one-
on-one instead of taking formal courses, and after a couple of years he
offered to engage me as part of his staff.

pn: \A/hat brought you to Alexander work? Was it an injury?

2a
SPRING 2OO4 THE FELDENKRAIS ]OTIRNAL \O. T7

MIA: Mlr husband had asthma. I knew very little about sickness and I was
very apprehensive about his asthma, so I Iooked for help.

pu: And did it help him ultimatelv?

rrrl: Yes it did, from the flrst time he saw Charles Neil. After that it r,tras
never as bad as it had been before. So that's how I got involved.

pn: Was N{oshe able to see your husband for his problem?

nre: Oh yes, of course.

pn: Can rve talk a bit about your time in lapan? \'\4ren did you live there?

ure: From 1968 to rg7z. We lived for three and a half years in lapan'

pn: Did you practice Feldenkrais and Alexander in Japan?

2S
 ,1'HF,
FFLDENKITA]S JOURtr*Af \O. 17 SPRING 20O4

MIA: No, not at all. Only judo and a form of Japanese theater called lcyogert.

pn: Do vou practice judo any1s1g3

ure: (Laughs) No. No, I can't tlavel and r,vork like this and continue.

pu: Was vour practice of judo a result of meeting Moshe?

ure: Yes. It -"r,as NIoshe r,r,ho aroused our interest in Japan and judo. He
himseif used to be a judoka and many of his developments r,r,ere influenced
by the martial arts.

ps: Did yor-r Iook for a relationship betrveen Moshe and F.N,I. Alexander's
r,r,ork in the practice of rrour iudo?

ure: No, I simpl-v enjoyed judo tremendously. I studied at the Kodokan

in Tokyo. Both rny daughter and I are black belts from Kodokan. i loved it
and I loved doing kyogen. In lapan the1, l3y" a varietv of traditional theaters,
and kyogen is considered to be the comical interlude of the serious rrolz
storyiine. Of course, \.,Ioshe lr,as aln ays interested in Eastern methods and
ideas and n as a great judo man himself, so rve had that in common.

pu: \trhen vou returned to Israel, \.oll concentrated on \4oshe's work. You
must have had many rrs r,r,ith him. Was there any in particular that r,r,as
memorable or important for ysu3

uIa: (Hearty laughter) Are you kidding? I had, r,that, nearly forty vears of
nhich r,r,ere the most memorable? I couldn't really say. Although I
r.rs, and
received rrs from Nloshe, lvhat rve did most of the time -"vas discuss what is
going on in oneself. Moshe.,r,ould ask, "Look, if I do this to your neck, or if I
move you like this, observe nhat is happening along the bodv. \\here is this
connected and r,vhat does that teach you?" We r,r,orked a lot r,rdth each other.
We had endless discussions of "Look rvhat happens."vhen I do this," and
"How do you feel r,r,hen I do that?" and "When is it appropriate to do that?"

prr: So you're saying that the structure of the u r,r,.as different for you then,
not like for us today,,vhere it is a contained piece . . . finite and complete.

ula: Deflnitely. It n as not a structured teaching. It r,r.as just talking about it

and analyzing it. But even no\\r, -vou should not teach rr as "flnal and com-
plete." That is lr,hat makes our wa\r unique, isn't it?

pu: Did Moshe derrelop Functional integration flrst?

rrre: I suppose he derreloped rr and -cnr simultaneously. I teach it like this

also. One cannot be r,rrithout the other: rr and lru input the same thing from
different modes. I teach it iike this because this is the \vay he taught me.
He started structuring hortr to teach u,,hen I r,r,,ent to Iapan and he had
his Israeli training group. I think one of the main reasons he introduced pr
later in the training groups r,r,as because he ,,t as being cautious with the
responsibili6, of people irandling other people. He felt in San Francisco and
in Amherst that they should first have a basis of feeling themselves, of hav-
ing a sense and awareness of his concept, and only then might thev be able
to give it to others.

30
SPRTNG 2OO4 THE FEI.DENKRIIS IOIIRN,\1. NO. 17

pH: Still in today's practice as I see it, Feldenkrais practitioners give either
an ArN{ class or rr session. Hands off or hands-on: a separation. \\hat
advice can you girre to this generation of practitioners r,vho reall-y dissociate
the modes of the N'Iethod into pt onlY or lrnr onhr?

rrra: I think it is a tragedy. As I said, each enhances and re-enforces the

other. This Method is one concept.

pu: Toda\,in your'"r,orkshop, r,r,e began with the group doing atlt vvork,
noticing an interesting movement from an individual and then having this
person and perhaps a ferv others do the movement r'rrhile the rest of us
observed the variations of action. You then took some time to clarift,
hands-on, these demonstrators' intentions so that the action rvas easier.
The rest of us rvere observing and engaging in discussion as we r,vatched,
then r'r,e \\,ent back to our mats and explored these ideas and further inrresti-
gated the options that you presented in the hands-on portion of the lesson.

ure: That's right. Was r,rrhat we did toda-v,llr'r or rt?

pn: I see your point. It's impossible to distinguish the modalities r,vhen you
teach it this r,r.ay. It's a flor,r, of err'r and rt. Not separate, but one thing.

l.ra: Look, I don't knor.n",. I was at the training in San Francisco and,\mherst
as an assistant and teacher, but I'r,e never really been "trained" as the others
after me. I was personally coached. I teach it as I was taught, by finding out,
b-v exploration and im,,estigation, nearl.v like detective r,vork: Watch and notice
and tiren do r,vhat's appropriate. So I don't have a boundary for that.

pu: \Mhere r'r,ottld -vou sav that vou'r,e made this lr'ork )rour own? How have
you brought it to anotirer levei?

ura: (Laughter) \\4ro says I have? I don't knor,t' if i've brought it to another
Ievel. I think I've found a clearer r,vay of communicating it. For me the rvork
seems r,ery simple and I r,r,ould like it to be presented simply. \\4ren Moshe
said the "elusir.e obvious," that's r,r,hat he meant. So what r,l'e actuaily want
is to be open, unprejudiced and ciear in order to see the obvious. Maybe
it's easier to describe it in the negative: We lir,e life with iess trouble, pain,
hindrance, and confusion. I think lhat's the aim.

pu: From my o-ffn personal experience, in getting

I rvas hoping that
involved rvith this rvork I r,r,ould be able make the shifts from kinesthetic
awareness to the emotional realm of self-limiting behaviors. I can feel
the shifts kinesthetically, but I cannot seem to make the leap to behavior
changes. Perhaps they are too small for my consciousness. For example,
I can sense "my ribs do that wiren she moves me here." And, "I feel so
much lighter from this lesson," or, "this lesson r,r,as dificttit for me and I
tried too hard and it resulted in this difficuity in movement," and so on.
But hor,v do lve make the transition to the emotional realm to actually
change self-limiting behaviors? Do vou see r,r'hat I'm saying?

rrra: I hear you and I think you misunderstand a little bit, and
ver1. r,r,eil,
make a dichotomy in a piace that it doesn't exist. Your back pain does not
exist r'vithout your emotional life. in order to explain things, we separate

3l
 THE FELDENKRAIS IOURNAL NO. 17 SPRTNG 2OO4

them and rve gir,,e them names. But, let's take as an example a r,r.oman I
demonstrated on toda-y, lr,ho has difficulty r,r,alking. Her emotional life and
her rvalking are one thing. \\hen I shorv her nhat sire does, rnake her arvare
of it and give her other possibilities, and then she changes her rval,of r,valk-
ing, is this change a sensing? Is it a feeling? Is it mechanicai? Will it affect her
emotionally? The change itself comes from her and touches on all these
areas. Don't vou think her sense of "self" changes? And her handling herself
ivith relation to gravit.v? To the horizon? To peopte around her? Is this phys-
ical or emotional? I don't knor,r,, but r,ve all saiv a change in all of "her."
\\lhen a person is traumatized in some r,r,ay this must impact other areas
and functions, for erample, the rvay they breathe, or the way they 1q1n 1ir"it
head. Ihe moment vou bring those connections into awareness, this

32
SPRING 2OO4 THE FELDE\K1t-\1S ]OUR\-\L,\O. ]7

changes. I find that n ith this r,vork, a lot of emotional difficulties are solved
because rve approach Phvsical behaviors non-verbally, so there is no need
to analyze the psychological aspect and there is no resistance. There is no
argument uritir improving breathir-rg as there ma-v be in facing memories of
emotional traunla. Oi course, this is n hy Feldenkrais practitioners should
have basic knor,i ledge of psychologv, as r,vell as anatomv. \e1ar, r'r4ren talking
about anrareness, rvhat 1,ou focus on is also irnportanl. If people come '"t'ith
knee troubles and you say "Okay, r,t,e'11 make them arvare of the knee trou-
bles and the-v'll be okay" it's not like this. They are very a\vare of their knee;
in lact it's the tiring that they're most a\,vare of. What theY are rtol ar,vare of is
more important. The rest of the body-pelvis, head, shoulders, breathing-
are being used in a different r'r'alr frorn before the trouble. And this i5 1t'h ere
$,e want to drar,rr awareness, because this is the majorit-v of tire person. The
knee is only one area but it takes up all the attention because tl"rere is pain.
But -,,rrhen the person starts to use ever-vthing else as rvould a healthy person,
it gives the knee a chance to reco\,er.

en: People like to tell their stories, and these stories can reinforce o1d
beiraviors. When is the story an important piece?

nare: lt depends. With some peopie, ves, you should listen. \\tith some peo-
ple you can see it's a "tape recording." No tr,vo people are alike; you cannot
approach tr,vo people in the same n ay. It depends hoiv theY tell the story.
You look at them. You rt'atch horv thev tell it, and sometitnes You can see
that the stories are really important and other stories are not.

pu: Currently, there are httndreds of bodrr-mind modalities. The popular-

ity of each seems to be cvclical, as is the emergence of ner,v ones. \\tlere
does the Feldenkrais Nlethod fit in this milieu? And -"vhere do vou see its
importance, sa]' 2oo -vears from r1s1,1r, in the context of all these other types
of informationlz

ure: You kno-"r,, zoo 1-ears is a long time, bttt I'm amazed at hort' advanced
Moshe rvas in his time. I met hir-n 45 Jrears ago, blrt he started long befbre
that. Todav it's common to connect bodv and mind. The idea in,rrr'r of
attempting to do sornething that seelns irr-rpossible ar-rd through explo-
ration, not fbrce, suddenh,finding you can do it is not onlv a joli but aiso
great encouragement. And finding out lto','r, others achieve the same in
their or,r,rn unique av n ntakes vott renlize that evellolle is able to ieam and
impror,,e. No one person is superirtr to another and no one \,\''aY is the onlv
right r'r,a-y. I think teacires
it tolelance at-rd mutual respect. N{oshe and I
talked about this. I remember asking him, "\\here do -vou ulanI us to get?"
He said, "I,tavbe to learn to be mole tolerant." I think this is a great thing.
And not only that, but the thing that he proved is that there is no end to
improrrement. As long as \,ve're alive, rve can ahvays improrre a lot or a little
bit, but we can improve.
I remember the conductor Igor Nlarkevich, r{olinist Yehudi Nllenuhin,
chemist Ephraim Katzir, leading israeli actors Aharon Meskin and Hanna
Ror,ina, and, of course, our prime minister David Ben Gurion, r,vho r'rtas a
great believer in Moshe's philosopiry and rvork. He himself found tirne to
practice and get lessons every day, erren during periods ofgreat challenge.
Ben Gurion nished to include the Method in the educational system. He
r'r,ished for it to be of benefit to our country and a modei to other countries,
But he too -,rras r,r,av ahead of his tirne.

33
 TIIE FELDENKITAIS JOURNAI, NO. 17 SPRTNG 2OO4

pH: Where do you think this work has its most direct application outside of
trainings and master classes?

nrre: Anyr,r,here and eve5nvhere, because this rvork is universal. It applies to

Iife itself as a process ol grorvth and learning r-rnderstanding and tolerance.
It is a method that guides people to discover their potential of hor,v to use
themselves better. And this applies to ail ages, to all prof'essions. It doesn't
stick to a certain type or a certain condition. It's for the sick, it's for the
healthy, across all cuitures.

pn: \Mrat do you t-eel is Moshe's legacy? And ,"vhere is your legacy?

nra: Gror,r,th, I hope. I hope this w'ill enable people to gro$. indir,iduallr.and
together. It helps improve everything you do. You flnd wavs to do er.en.-
thing a little bit more elicientlv, more beautifully, in a more sensitive rvar-.
Therefore, anybody and eve4,bodv can beneht front that.

pn: Have
-you observ'ed that proficiencr-in trainings is ar a ler-el vou'd like to
see? \\hat r,vould vou like to see changed?

nara: I don't knort, because I'm reailv not inr-olr-ed in most of tl-re communi-
ties of the guilds and organizations. Persorralir', since m\-rime is not endiess
and I'd like to concentrate on rvhat I do best, r,vhich is to pass this u,ork on
in the r,vay I got it fi'om Nloshe, I can only concentrate on m\-ou.n students.
The r,vav I got it from him was in its essence. In a r,r,av, I harre a sense ol mis-
sion. I u,ould like it passed on this rvav. There is a danger r,r,ith r'r,orks like
this, that thev get diluted, and rnisinterpreted, that they turn into lrrateL,
and they lose tire core. I work r,rrith m-v daughter Leora, rtrho grew up with
Moshe in our house and lr,as part of the discussions. She sar,t, the investi-
gations and explorations, and heard the conversations and explanations.
I consider mvself luckv that',ve can r,r,ork together because.,ve understand
this r,vork in the same \l,,ay and nre both want to hand it over to others \,vith
this understanding. We also rvork r,vith many students who have been nith
us fol many years and thelr lo1.s and understand it in the same r,r,av. I'd like
it to go on like this and I hope that al1 the peopie I teach r,r,,ill continue in this
clean, essential direction.

pn: Are there any published materials or trainings 1,ou r,rrouid like us to
knor,rr about?

r'rrl: "rrns (Mind Body S1p4-y1 Academv" and

Yes. I have nor,v my o\,vn
r,ve variety of basic trainings, advanced courses, and specialized
offer a
courses that r,rrere developed for speciflc professional areas. N,Iost of the
r,t s and many of the demonstrations have been documented on videos,
audios and ovos, and i,vill soon be ar,ailable for iearning purposes through
our academy.

en: Thank you so much, Mia, for your time

nara: You're ver.,, welcome.

Fr-rrther information about NIia Segal's academ_y, courses, and recorded

material are available on the web: w,u,.w.mbsacadem-v.org

34
SPRING 2OO4 THE FELDENKIIAIS NO. 17
'OURNAI,

Stephen Duke

Teaching Awareness to Music Widely known for his new music and

Students, throug h Movement multi-styled performances, Steve

Duke, a Distinguished Research Pro-
fessor at Northern lllinois University,
has premiered and recorded solo

n ll;iil:;J ;,:slil l;Tlil il' li : f; .'J; :fl Jl

, t to.uura learning. Competitiotr and standards focus on external
lllil :
i
l'I i,,, o
"
works for saxophone by leading
composers in the United States and
Europe. ln 1 987, Steve Duke was the
,{ comparisons and references and are goocl for fostering disci- first to publish performance peda-
f I pfr"". To be sure, discipiine distinguiihes the artist from the gogy in learning both classical and
dilettante; hon ever, it does not necessarilv Iead to creatirre thinking or self'- )azz slyle music on the saxophone.
a\'\rareness. Thus, music students can become desensitized to their musical
intuition r,vhile obsessing over perf'ection and correctness, erren at the
expense of their heaith. It is evident that \,\,e, as music teachers, have over-
iooked or, r^rorse, devalued a fundamental qualitv in learning music: NIanY
of our students lack the self-art areness to fullv realize their artistry.
Since rgBg, I have taught a class in the Feldenkrais Method of somatic
education in the School of Music at Northern lllinois UniversitY, open to
juniors, seniors, and gradunte students. Members of the class have come
from across North America and Western Europe, as r'rrell as Australia, Brazii,
Russia, Bulgaria, Israel, Japan, and Korea. Most of the students have heard
about, lead about, or taken lessons in the Feldenkrais Method. A fer'r' have
pain and injuries. N'Ian.v are concerned abor-rt tension. TheY all r,rrant to
impror,e their performance.
The purpose of the class is to teach students honr to become art'are of
themselrres and horv this alt areness may improve their performance. The
Feldenkrais Method does not teach how to perforrn music, nor does it teach
hor,v to learrtro perform music. One learns hor,v to perfonn music by stud\'-
ing music. Performance can be far more effectirre, hotve.u'er, if one is self-
ar,vare and mindful of his or her surroundings. There is a direct correlation
between self-alt areness and the qualit-v of interaction r^"'ith other musicians
and the audience. Feeiing the suspended breath of audience members r'vho
are sitting in rhe back ror,v of the balcony, or trusting silence rvhile playin g a
jazz improvisation, is the difference betr,veen a good and an exceptional
performance. These subtleties cannot be r,vorked out in the practice room'
They 21s a result of the perlbrmer's presence'"r'ithin the moment, his con-
nection r,r,ith the otirer musiciaus and the audience.
For most musicians, efforts to express themseives are partialhr blocked,
diffused, or deflected. Instead of producing a rnusical sound, efforts to
express the music result in physicai tensiotl. Conseqr,rently, the perfolmer
feels expressive, but does not sound expressive. You can see this in the bodv
r,vhen he plays rvith legs that do not bend, u,eight that does not shift, or
fingers that move too much. \'Vhat is obsen ed in mor,ernent r,rsr-rallv is re-
flected in the sound. As a Feldenkrais teacher and musician, I obsen'e both
the effectir,.eness of the moveillent and the musical intent. Legs that do not
35
 THE FELDENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 20O4

bend may relate to rhyhm that feels stiff. More flexibility or more aware-
ness does not necessarily create a new tonal image. But increased self-
awareness, in relation to the performance environment, may allorv
the tonal image to be redirected in a more effective way. As one student
explained the change in his performance after an Awareness Through
Movement (eru) iesson, "It became available, so I used it." \Vhat I find
interesting is not just that something "became available, " but that he chose
to use it.
\,Vhen musicians perform rvith more awareness, not onlv do thel,piav
better, they play healthier because the effort to express themseh,es no
longer manifests as physical strain. As Feldenkrais teachers, r,r,e obsen e the
result of strain time and time again. The body begins to hurt and then
breaks dorvn. What begins as something inspired and beautiful becomes
exhausting and painful. Imagine the self-doubt of someone rvho is hurt as
a result of his olvn efforts to express himself. If a musician becomes injured,
learning to become more spontaneous in perfonnance is hindered even
further because his attention focuses on ar.oiding the pain and the injurl'
and not on taking musical risks.
The class, "AWorkshop in Nlovement and PerformanceAr,r,areness," is
about learning to trust taking those risks. Ir fulfllls the pedagogical require-
ment of the Master of Music in performance and is nor,r' considered an
essential part of the graduate curricuium in music. The class is primarily
designed around the experiences oferu lessons. These experiences gener-
ate topics for discussion and homelvork without the need to follorv a set syl-
labus. The students discover rvhat is relevant to their unique situation in
their own way and in their own time. I tell them that they can go u,rite their
or,r,n books on how to play or sing.
In some classes, a student will perform an excerpt and, r,r,ithout discus-
sion, we r.ill do an ArM lesson. After the lesson the student r,r,ill perform the
excerpt again, and then comment on what he notices musicallv, physicall.v,

36
SPRING 2OO4 TIIE FELDENKITAIS JOURNAL NO. 17

mentally, emotionally, etc. Usually, the change in playing is obvious. Some-

times the performers are unsure of what the speciflc changes are, and sim-
ply feel that their performance is easier or more relaxed. Sometimes, the
performer feels as if his performance is weak and ineffective. He may not
knowwhat a powerful performance feels like and confuses effortlessness
with weakness. It is not uncommon for students to feel that they played bet-
ter after the lesson because they have "warmed up." My response is, "When
did you warm up? lVhile you were lying on the floor? \A/hat is warm-up any-
way, and why should we warm up?" This exchange initiates the discussion
and homework for the next few classes as they re-examine the purpose of
ourwartn-up routines. Theyrealize that the purpose of warming-up is to
become fully present to play or sing and to interact, and that their routines
mayhave become mechanical and ineffective. The discussion provides a
nice opportunity to broach howeru lessons are a process of self-discovery.
After the performer has commented, the class members share what they
noticed. They get excited as they list the changes in his performance, such
as greater dlmamics, bigger tone, or more confldent rhythmic feel, qualities
of which the performer may be unaware. Often, there is an element of sur-
prise or ambivalence because the improvements do not follow the primary
rule of learning music-practice until perfect. After all, you do not learn to
play better by rolling on the floor, or do you?
As the semester progresses, the focus shifts from producing immediate
changes in their performance to a deeper, more personal exploration of
their performance and of themselves. At some point in the semester, some-
one in the class broaches the subject of the connection that they feel with
the performer. It can be an uncomfortable subject for some musicians
because of the lack of language to describe or measure, and therefore it fre-
quently is dismissed as charisma. The class acknowledges that the connect-
edness also may be related to changes in the group's awareness. They real-
ize that there is more to the performance than just the changes in the sound
or in how the performer moves. This discussion may engender assignments
or journal notes on howerlr lessons affect presence.
Occasionally, students will request that they be excused from class or sit
out the lesson because they are performing after class and are afraid that
they might feel too weird to play. One student had a convocation perfor-
mance before some faculty and her peers. As a new graduate student, it
was her flrst solo appearance at music school and she was feeling anxious.
This seemed no time to experiment. Without insisting, I encouraged her
to do the lesson and that even if she felt different, the performance would
probably go well. A couple of days after the performance, I passed her in
the hallway and asked how it went. Her eyes widened, "It was amazing!
I felt strange, but it went reallywelTl" Later, I asked another student who
attended the convocation what he thought of the performances. He replied,
"It was ok, nothing great." Pausing, he added, "But, there was a graduate
student who can really play!"
One of the peculiarities of teaching the Method at a university is that col-
lege students expect homework assignments. An assignment might include
doing two erm lessons from class and noticing how one lesson affects the
movement quality of the other lesson or doing a lesson from the Awareness
Thr o ugh M ou em ent b o ok (Feldenkrais, M., rg7 z) . Writing assignments, in
particular, get the students to do arvr lessons on their or,tm and to figure out
how to articulate their experiences and discoveries. Writing assignments
improve class discussion and students' abilityto communicate with their
artistic and professional communities. Students also keep journals, which

37
a

THE FELDENK1TAIS IOI]RNAL NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

I read a few times during the semester. The journals help the students
understand their process and provide me insights as to rn,hat to include or
change in my teaching. We never discuss journals in class; they are for indi-
vidual use. Some use their journal simply to record the lessons; others
include daily observations on the effects of tire lessons and write questions
for themselves. In accordance to universit-v ruies, I distinguish the learning
experience ofthe graduate students bv requiring them to rvrite a research
paper. The students may rvrite on any topic so long as it relates to the
Method. I encourage them to choose a topic that they find meaningful.
"Why Do We Yanrn?" "The Breath," and "Mental Practice and Visualization
for Performers" are a felv of the topics.
\&hat the students bring to the class determines the qualitv of the learn-
ing experience. The students are easy to teach because, as pertbrmers, they
are self-motivated and r,rnderstand the value of self-directed learnitrg. In
addition to their rnusic training and performing, most of the students also
have taught music. This allou,s me to relate learning the Feldenkrais
Method to multiple shared ianguages and experiences. The students under-
stand, for example, that theoretical generalizations found in music peda-
gogy har.e limited effectiveness, and therefore, generalizing experiences
from an aru lesson may also limit learning. Man.v strategies in iearning
music performance also apply to learning the Feldenkrais Ntlethod. Anv
eighteen-year-old freshman knolr,s that you progress more quickl-v if you
practice at a sloi,r,'er tempo.
Conversell,, music training also can develop peculiar Iearning attitr,ides.
Imagine spending several hours a da-y, for flfteen years, learning holr. to
adjust -vour flngers on the .",iolin to within a fer,r, thousandths of an inch, in
fractions of seconds, to play a passage perfectly in tune and in time-and
that anything less is unacceptable. Likewise, musicians ma\. be inclined to
practice the details of an Rrrnr movement instead of aiior,r,ing the movement
to reveal itself. Teli a class full of coilege-age musicians r,vho are rvorking
hard on their technical craft to move iess or rnol,e slor,r,er and half of the
room may come to a stop. This mav appear to be thoughtful exploration of
the lesson, but more often than not, it is excessive attention to a detail of the
movement. It is important to relieve musicians of the responsibilitv to do
the morrements correctly, and to broaden their attention. I get very selious
and tell them, "I am going to ask you to do something no music teacher has
ever asked of -vou before." I let a breathless silence hang briefl1,in the air as
thev ponder their fate. Smiling, I suggest, "Do it poorly, or, please, at least in
a mediocre lr,arr." Trying too hard has become a standing joke in the ciass.
There is an underl-ving dynamic in these classes that balances discipline
and pla-v-think clearly, be responsibie for yourself, and enjov the moment.
Music training can also create false concepts and assumptions about
what is "natural" action. Music training is stylisticalllr exclusir.e, and there-
fore, Iacks aesthetic perspectirre. You do not learn to be a rnusician, but to
be a concert pianist or a jazz saxophonist. \'Vith this stlrlistic orientation,
there is often confusion betrveen r'r,hat is natural or healthy. Some opera
singers, for example, believe lhal jazz singing destrol,s the rroice. All music
performance requires movement, and specific musical styles require
speciflc movement. Each rnusical style has a feei, has a concept, requires
specific techniques, and is equaliy unnatural. Interestingly, mature artists
may move in peculiar ways that are an integral part of their musical image
and artistry but defy our preconceived templates of efficient action. But one
of the challenges tbr musicians lt'ho studv the Feldenkrais Method is that
they may nged to revisit qualities of their pla_ving that feel reliable and

38
SPRING 2OO4 1HE FF,LDINKR}\1S JOURNAI- \O. 17

familiar. It is one thing to 1'eel or sound better; it is another thing to change

the most n'reaningful part of your life. After a particular Functional Integra-
tion (r.r) lesson, a student picked up his instrument and plaved much better
than I had er.er heard him play before. He exclaimed, "I don't knor,r,lr,hat
_vou did, but this sounds greatl This is rveirdl I don't play this r,r,,ell!" He
ended up rejecting the changes that occurred during the lesson. El.en
though he liked r,r,hat he felt and heard, he did not credit himself for the
changes in his plaving. Changing one's approach to performing can take
l ears of exploration. Therefore, the notion of re-learning hor,v to play or
sing is discussed Iater in the semester, after the students har,.e had time to
der,,elop confldence to re-learn on their own.
At the end of the sernester, \,ve meet for the flnal exam-usuallv at the
local coffeehouse. Ihe university rules simply state that you must meet at
the designated exam time "for examination or other instructional pur-
poses." We sit at the table together. The students present their research
papers to everyone. Assumptions and contradictions are challenged, and
fresh perspectives are noted. Ideas go back and forth.
After fifteen rveeks and thirty classes, the students acknowledge that
learning self-awareness is a never-ending inquiry and that the class
has served as an invitation to that inquiry. The students fill out a simple
questionnaire that asks what thev learned. Their responses range from
learning hon the-v are less tense to how the quality in their perfolmance
has changed. One student urrote that he learned, "to rellr less on rules and
regulations and nrore on I'eeling, response, and sound." Another wrote, "I
iearned the benefits of becoming ar,vare of my body. Not only does this help
in performance situations, but as an orrerall rnental and physical equalizer."
When reflecting on the semester's work, I resist the temptation to codifi,, our
experiences for use in future classes and trust that the process of discorrery
urill reveal r,vhat is most interesting and appropriate.

39
 THE }'ELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

MaryAzrael

"Golden Needle, Golden Roof "

(after the first "bell hand" lesson, 3/zz l98)

Not asleep, but nearly,

I hear that high thin nhistle,
a sound like a goid thread someone is
spinning out of silence. The compost of my life
smells sweeter and sweeter as the old, imposed
forms give."vay and the jaws unlatch and the flsts
ease open. In the center of m1, palm, a star-
fish comes ar,r,'ake, and mntmnt this morning's mango
sun glolvsl My hand is a gentle creature
at ease on the rise and fall of ribs breathing.
I'm a lucky skeleton, dancing this human
dance n'ith gravitv,
spinning, balancing, spinning, falling.
The oid man girres us
"a golden needle, a golden roof,"
invites us to be
as \,1,e've never been,
as we've ah,^",ays lsgn.

"Golden needle, golden roof" are N'loshe's lr'ords. Talking about the
possibilitY/impossibilitl' of change, he said that gold forn'red into rnany
different things-a golden needle, a golderr roof, etc.-still remains gold.

40
SPRTNG 2O04 THE ITELDENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17

Sylvie Fortin
Warwick Long

lntegrating the Feldenkrais Method

within Dance Technique Class

INTRODUCTION
article emerged from a collaborative research endeavor between
-rhistruo dance teachers and Feldenkrais practitioners from different cul-
II
tures: Sylvie Fortin teaches at the dance department of the Universit6
du Qu6bec d Montr6al, Canada, and Wanvick Long teaches in the dance
studies program of the University of Otago, Ner,r, Zealand. Our desire to
conduct this study stemmed from our experience and practice of dance and
the Feldenkrais Method, as well as reading the dance literature r,vhich pre-
sented many claims about relationships betr,r,,een dance and somatic educa-
tion practices such as the Feldenkrais Method, but few data-based or
empirical studies to support the claims. Our hunch was that a descriptive
study interpreting daily actions in the dance class would contribute to the
understanding of this relationship. One place r,ve felt useful to start \,\ras to
describe the ways we were integratingAwareness Through Movement (arr,r)
Iessons within dance technique classes and ho,,v the notion of self r,vas
embedded throughout the class.
In the literature on dance, various authors note specific concerns about
the value of somatic education in dance technique ciasses. The flrst con-
cern is the apparent lack of connection betrt-een somatic classes often char-
acterized by students Iying on the floor and sensing minute movements,
compared to the technical class which relies on the imitation of strictly pre-
scribed teacher-demonstrated movement which progresses from simple to
more intricate dance combinations travelling across space (Simpson, rgg6).
A second concern is whether this learning environment leads to a type of
dance that is too internalized and self-absorbed and ultimately detrimental
to performance (Schuitz, zooo) . These points of view suggest that somatics
may be helpful for limited st14es of dancing but would exclude dance styles
that require speed and r,irtuosifi. In contrast to these critics, a number of
nrriters propose a revision ofthe traditional rvay dance classes have been
taught, adrrocating the value of somatic approaches that direct students'
attention to the primacy of process. For example, Sheets-Johnson (1979)
obsen es that traditional methods of dance training are future-oriented and
the "mor,ement is commonlv directed to r,vhere I am notyet" (p. zs). Work-
ing through the primacv of experience, rather than focussing on the end
product of mor..ement, brings the students to "discriminate and notice
change"- and that is learning (Sheets-Johnstone, p. z6). Blank (rg8z) and
Lessinger (rgg6) also advocate that in order to facilitate efficient aiignment,
dance training should flne-tune the kinesthetic sense rather than rely on
objective r.isual assessment and mechanical imposition of corrections.

4l
 THE FELDtrNKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

Green (rggg) also discusses notions such as bodil-v disconnection and com-
pensation to fit ideal models vis i. r.is somatic lr,ays of connecting self
a\rvareness and the authorittr of one's o\t n bodv to action in the i,vorld. She
further suggests:
Btrteaching mo\rentellt concepts trorn the inside out to arrive at a technical
aspect shorvs a student that thev har.,e something to give from the inside
rather than someone r,r,ho has movement put upon them. The inner
approach gives the student a sense of or,r,nership of themselves and their
contribution to dance. The outrvard approach makes the student feel like
they are soinething to be moulded or that they need to fit into a mould ancl if
they dtln'1 thev cannot contribute. lt is important to change the \,vaY we teach
dance in order to change rvhat is valuecl in dance (p. gsl.

The abor.e vier,vpoints prordded us ll'ith a background to conduct our stud-v,

rvhich belongs to a research method knor,'"'n as teacher lesearch. Cochran-
Smith and Little (rggs) describe this research approach as a "systematic,
intentional inquiry carried out by the teachers themsel'u'es" (p. Z). Criticism
ofteacher research suggests that it is not real research because teachers are
too close to their data and simplv present their or'r''n perspective. In contrast
to this point of view, Heshusius (r99+) strongly advocates for teacher
research tl-rrough her concept of "participatory consciousness," which she
sLlggests is a somatic r,vav of knor,r,ring. Through participatory cottsciousness,
she rejects the idea that the kno'"ver is separate lrom the knor,vn, and argues
that one cannot actually distance oneself and regulate that distance in
order to arrive at a better wa.v of knowing.

SETTING
The setting for our research rt as a professional dance studio in Montreal,
Canada. Data collection spanned trvo r,rreeks during December zooo. Each
class .,r,as trvo hours long; hort ever, due to unloreseen circumstances con-
cerning both the heating of the studios (it rvas r,vinter in Canada) and tech-
nical problems r,vith the recording equipment, we were able to collect jtist
rz hours of data. The classes \ /ere taught in English and French. The rz hours
of teaching u,ere videotaped and then analyzed by sifting through all ver-
batim expanded field notes and anecdotal moments that could be linked
to the research questions. Each class was structured around four sections:
AwARENESS rHRorrGH MovEN{ENr (,rru) This section lasted around 3o
minutes and addressed basic themes such as curving of the spine or hip-leg
relationship. These themes would be explored r,t hile lving, crar,r,'1ing, or sit-
ting, and pror,.ided experiences to be later integrated within the dance tech-
nique and combinations. The structure \,vas similar to a typical eru lesson
but r,rras simplifled and condensed to accommodate the demands of the
dance technique and the time frame of the class.
TRANSTTToN To srAN DINc Continuing from the erlr section, transitiotl to
standing lbcused on the feit experience of verticality. It provided opportu-
nities to adapt the previous sensory-motor experiences to standing u'ithout
engaging in dance technique or vocabulary. It lasted five to eight minutes.
DANCE TECHNTeTIE This section of ciass provided a dance technique and
vocabulary context, similar to a traditional technique class. It included six
to seven alignment and u,arm up seqllences to be learned by the students,
using a variety of rhythmic and spatial structures. Sometimes partner rvork
was used to guide or facilitate tactile sensation of movement.

42
SPRING 2OO4 THE FEI,DENKRAIS IOUR\AL \O. I7

DANCE corrBrNArroNS Much like traditionai technique classes, this sec-

tion involved longer, more compiex combinations of moving dynamically
in space. The empirasis here r,r,as for students to understand and explore
their persor-ral n avs of executing the given combinations.
Usuallr,, Sr-lr,ie l,r,ould teach the first two sections of class, while Warwick
would teach the last tu,o sections. Despite har.ing a designated teacher for
speciflc parts of the class, the team teaching approach remained flexible
lr,ith different types of facilitation emerging in different situations. This
context provided us rvith the conditions to inquire about our individuat
experiences r,r,hile bringing together our distinct voices. We decided early in
the research process that the flnai report r,r,ould acknowledge the author-
ship of each teacher-researcher. We avoided blending our voices to avoid
con\re-ving a false impression that we had reached a single, absolute under-
standing of the phenomena under study, i.e., one "realit1.." We both present
our data and locate our perspectives within a post-positivism paradigm
lr,hich reiies on the argument that the rvorld can be interpreted through
multiple realities and there can be no one single u,ay of knor,r,,ing (Eisner,
tggB). The remainder of the articie is therefore structured around Sylrrie's
investigation about how the notion of self rvas embedded in the technical
dance class informed by the Feldenkrais N{ethod, and then Warwick
addresses the integration ofArNr in the technical aspects ofthe class.

43
 SPRING 2OO4
THE FELDINKITAIS JOIJR\AL NO. 17

THE NOTION OF SELF

Syluie Fortin
ance is often assumed to be an ideal corporeal activity for the culti-
I )-rution of our full potential. Dance .un uiro be regarded as a means
-a-t bywhich dancers can relate to theirbodies as objects to be con-
trolled and used (by themselves and/or others). As a dance teacher I cannot
escape either perpetuating or resisting mainstream dance culture' Through
this study, I wanted to investigate how I conveyed notions of soma/body/
self/other in my teaching, since my Feldenkrais training led me progres-
sively to a reappraisal of these notions. At a broad level, I wanted to know
if I counteract the enculturation of my dance milieu, and more specifically
I wanted to understand how complex relationships between soma/body/
self/other were displayed in our dance classes. I juxtapose these words,
soma/body/self/other, because our Cartesian dualistic language restricts
my ability to convey the wholeness of experience. In the following para-
graphs I will address them by going back and forth between our empirical
data and the dance literature, specifically discussing Susan Foster's con-
struct of "dancing body."
In the dance literature, the term dancingbody is widely used. According
to Foster (rgg7), "each dance technique constructs a specialized and
specific body, one that represents a given choreographer's or tradition's
esthetic vision of dance" (p. zq:|r.I feel Foster neglects the dancer as a sub-
ject of their o\ Tr construction. \.\4ren she focuses on roles of the training,
the choreographer, or the teacher as being responsible for constructing the
student's dancing body, she overlooks the possibility of creative self-fash-
ioning (Shusterman 1999) by the dancers themselves. To me, Foster's view
sustains dancers' disempowerment. Iust as esthetic authority seems to be
encoded in our bodies through our training, can esthetic authority also be
challenged by it? Can a dance class informed by the Feldenkrais Method be
used as a way to empower and emancipate?

Body/Soma
Generally, the goal-oriented environment of professional dance training
encourages students to emphasize the representational body (how it looks
from a third-person viewpoint) while the process-oriented environment
of somatics favors the experiential soma (how it feels from a flrst-person
viewpoint). Borrowing from both traditions, our teaching during this study
offered us an interesting challenge as the classes unfolded. The data
showed different emphases in the different parts of the class.
At the beginning of the classes, during the aru, the participants were
invited to attend to themselves sensitively, slowly, gently, paylng attention
to the details of different ways of executing the movements, most of the
time lying on the floor. However, there was a delicate moment between the
transition from aru to the dance combination and technique parts of the
class, as this transition focused on the interface between sensorium and
motorium. This transition also coincided with a passage from verbal to
visual guidance. \Alhereas visual demonstration is valued in dance classes,
the aru section tends to favor verbal guidance in order to encourage stu-
dents to rely on their or,rrn sensations and explorations. I remember feeling
uncomfortable about how to resolve this transition phase of the class. In the
course of the research, I realized that what was needed was demonstration
that conveyed the idea of feeling while moving. Such demonstrations could

44
SPRTNG 2OO4 THE FELDENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17

merge the notions of body and soma by bringing together a concern for
external shapes of the body and a qualitative felt appreciation of its lived
experience. Therefore, the quandary is to create a context for connecting
somatic ways of learning, such as experienced in arrr lesson, to the func-
tional demands ol dancing.
Throughout the dance technique and dance combination section of
class, Warwick was teaching with a visual and sensory emphasis. He clearly
stated this in class: "I am interested in the material so that you extract nrhat
is meaningful to you, rather than just follor,r,'ing the way I am doing." This
baseline promotes an idealism of function rather than an idealism of image.
Functionally, one theory of somatics is that our deep postural muscles
should be engaged to support our skeleton in the field ofgravity, thereby
allou,ing our superflcial muscles to be available for our expression in space.
Postural imbalance sometimes occurs when dancers strive too wilfully to
meet external esthetic demands. Because deep involuntary muscles are not
accessible through volition, more efforts to adapt to someone else's image
might not necessarily result in more efficient moving unless accompanied
by new perceptual input. Promoting a functional, self-referential and con-
textual esthetic is tied to the goal of understanding personal organization in
movement, which in turn can facilitate acquiring someone else's style. To
return to Foster, it is not only the training itself that constructs the dancing
bodies as she described it, but how the individual approaches his or her
training. Foster's argument is to me disputable in that it assumes dualism
and presents a problematic notion of self to which I turn now.

Body/Self
To address the issue of sell I need to distinguish betr,veen the theoretical
viewpoints of essential self, or deep true self (Foster, rgg7J, versus transient
selves. In the data, there are anecdotes that infer to the notion of transient
selves, r,vhich differ from Foster's notion of essential self. I\hen dancers
engage in conditioning and a diversity of dance styles, they create what she
calls a "body to hire," a body that has lost its identity, uncommitted to any
specific vision:
The hired, body builds a great distance from the self, it reduces it to a prag-
matic merchant of movement proftering whatever look appeals at the
moment. It not only denies the existence of a true, deep seif, but also pro-
scribes a relational self lvhose desire to empathize predominates or-er its
need for displar,(p. zs6).

Foster deplores the current trend of dancers who use a mlxed bag of train-
ing tools in order to meet the requirements of today's dance market. Her
vision is neither entirelv fair nor accurate in respect to the many wa_vs
dancers strive to explore the myriad of possibilities evolving in today's
dance communit), (the Feldenkrais Method being one among other tools
used b\, dancers to inform their dancing). The idea of one's identity as
a given, as a priori, transcultural, and a-historical, can be linked to a
paradigm, a n orld r.ierv, that claims universal truth, r,vhich Warwick and
I both question as teachers and researchers.
Rejecting the idea of an essential self, Shusterman (zooo) alludes to the
transient seif and maintains that the body/self is a social construction rather
than a given in nature. Our body/self is formed and transformed through
heredity and societal, historical, cultural, familial, and ideological contexts.
To Shusterman, our identity is not unified around a permanent self. Our
identitl, is constantly subject to remodelling, thus providing fluctuant selves

45
 THL FELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17
SPRI\G 2OO.1

that can either give unity and coherence to our different encounters rvith
the world or, as alluded by Foster (rggz) can get lost experiencing our differ-
ent selves in a consumer-like manner. The notion of continuous construc-
tion of the self relates to a paradigm ',vhere the rvorld can be experienced
through multiple realities. In our dance classes informed by the Feldenkrais
Method, this idea of a transient self is represented in the following quota-
tion from our fleld notes:
\iWrile you are lying on your bellv, find the exact place r,r,here 1,our legs are the
most comfortable. That means lr,here they support.vour rveight the best'
There are difierent ans\!'ers to this question since there are dilferent people
in the studio. There might also be different ans\\rers for the same person at
different moments of tl.re day or the rveek. We are constantly changing.

This passage highlights the notion of a transient or transformationai

body/ self rather than a definite one. For Beringer (zoor), "the self should
not be a noun, but a process, selflng. . . Selflng implies a dynamic process
which is ongoing" (p. so). She believes that ern can create opportunities
to experience "the plasticit-v of the self" (p. 37). Bringing the Feldenkrais
Method into the dance class hopefully enables that process and increases
the capacity to make enlightened choices. The diversity of today's dance
training, seen negativell' b1' Foster, can therelore be channelled into an
emancipatory experience. The notion of becoming something other than
-"vhat we presently are is after all the sine qua non for change at all levels:
phvsical, esthetic, sociai, spiritual, and even physiological. As stated by the
neurologist Damasio (rggg): "The seemingl-v rock-so1id stabilities behind a
singie mind and a single self are themselves ephemeral and continuottsly
reconstructed at the level of cells and molecules" (p. r++).
Some questions arising for me in light of our presetrt stud-v are: Did we
help the dancers make sense of the ongoing selfing process? Did we help

46
spRrNG 2OO4 TI]E FILDINIiRAIS ]OUlt\AL NO. 17

create bridges between their diverse experiences? Did r,ve talk about the
penneability of experiences and changes? Did we aliude in the dance class
to the possibility of connecting the experience of the body/self with one's
environment? In other words, did lve insinuate a sense of self/ other?

Self/Other
Dantas (zooo) develops the concept of "proximity of the body," arguing for
a continuitv of experience betr,rreen the daily body and the dancing body.
She makes the point that it is the same body that is suffering or looking for
ecstasy on stage as in our daily life. In class, unity between the dancing body
and the daily body is reflected in the following example from the field notes:
\Arhen you come to a diflicult moment, slorv dorvn rather than passing
through quickly. Allolvyourself to clarify it. \&hat could -vou do? Use the
diltcultv as an opportunitv to learn new possibilities. \\tren a movement
is painfr-rl, sometimes rve kind of clench our teeth and say "l r'r,i1l pass
througl.r" rather than exploring wavs to learn from it. Often rve have the
same attitude in our dailylif'e as rve have in our way of moving. If y6u n..
encountering a resistance rvith 1,our partner or your chi1d, do you pretend
that it is not there and just go, or do you investigate it by paying attention
to the details of the situation?

These instructions hint to the dancers that our corporeal experience flnds
reciprocitv in the domain of our extended 1ife. Integrating the Feldenkrais
Nlethod into a dance class should not encourage a selfish escape into pri-
vate narcissism. On the contrary, it could create a path tor,r,ard social con-
sciousness. An emerging characteristic of the fleid of somatics is the
acknowledgment of the outward, an inciusion of micro and macro, of self
and other (Eddy, zooo; Green, zooo). The world lve an aken to through sens-
ing is not limited to our inner landscape. It has the potential to change the
way we see the world around us, starting r,vith the most private: ourselves.
A new perception of our bod-v/ sorna can result in u 11sur position from
which to view the worid. A comparison process allows us to notice how we
feel different, how the str.rdio might appear different, or how our daily life
suddenly takes on a new light, a nerv shade. Our heightened awareness has
the potential to change the way we see the r,r,orid around us and to render
us more capable to act intentionally and effectively in it. Consciousness-
raising is aimed ultimately at personal transformation and public action,
yet consciousness-raising does not necessaryily lead to change. ln the
dance classes rve taught, seeds were nevertheless planted to encourage
the pairings of sensing/moving, bod1,/soma, body/seli and selfi other to
lose some of their flxity. Hopefully 15o, subtext of our teaching contributed
to help students construct their danciug body/soma/self.

ConclusionAbout the Self in Dance

Throughout their career, dancers spend a lot of time in class. It is thus a
major site of enculturation. In the previous paragraphs, I have shon'n hor,v
by integrating the Feldenkrais Method into the dance classes, we encour-
aged dancers to attend to themselves from a flrst-person perspective. This
has enormous repercussions. Not oniy is the representational bodvvali-
dated but also the experiential bodv that is the inner experience of the
dancer. I have argued that the integration of the Feldenkrais Method into
dance classes might encourage creati\re self-fashioning, as lr,eli as reaching
out of one's narrow boundaries. A dance class informed by 1i1g Feldenkrais
Method is not only about constructing "dancing bodies"; it is also about
developing a more accurate sense of ourselrres and the world r'r,e live in.
47
 .1'HE
FELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. T7 SPRING 20O4

AWARENESS THROUGH MOVEMENT IN THE DANCE CLASS

Warwick Long
f hroughout m1'career as a dance performer, choreographer, and
I teacher, I had difficult-v learning movement. As a child I ah,t a)'s had
I problems learnittg complex movement skills. lrr ball games or actir -
ities such as gvmnastics I nras uncoordinated and rvas afraid of movement.
Paradoxicaliv, in other areas movement felt natural, as I regularll'competed
at a national and pror,.incial lerrel in athletics and swimming.
\\hen I began dance classes at the age of eighteen, learning was a strug-
gle made more complex bv m-v notions of right and lvrong technique. These
notions were based on my perceptions of an ideal dance technique and
hor,v I should Iook doing it. I was not paying attention to sensation and was
preoccupied with achieving technical perfection no matter what the cost.
The cost was chronic back pain. I realize no\v Iny diff,culties in learning
dance were more to do with my thinkilrg than anything else. I began to
transform my thinking about movement through my gror,ving interest and
eventual training in the Feldenkrais Method. Through this r,vay of learning,
I began to sense ho',v to make fine discriminations in movement from a
kinesthetic perspective. One r,r,a], tirat A'"vareness Through N{or.'ement
lessons can link r,vith dance technique is through learning to direct our
attention to movement on an increasingly fine level.
I see this study as a meeting of my past experience as a student and my
present experience as a Feldenkrais and dance educator. \\hen I teach, I
often obserwe students experiencitrg many issues similar to those I used to
encounter when Iearning movement. Consequently I am curious about
ho,,r, I respond to these obsen ations nolv that I have experienced both the
technical demands of a dance class and the more exploratorr environment
of an erv class. This stud-v provided an opportunity to investigate m-v teach-
ing process and to understand how I facilitated movement a'"vareness in
these dance classes informed by arr,r lessons. The following six themes
emerged from my data analysis: (r) initiating different uraYs to perform
movement, (z) comparing sensations of different initiations, (S) directing
attention to specific sensations of movement, (+) describing the movement
skeletally r,vhile looking for precise sensations, (5) repeating movement to
obtain a clearer sensation, (6) seif-questioning. In the follor,r,ing sections,
I interpret these six themes individually, even though they ali interrelate,
and then discuss the facilitation of movement aurareness.

Initiating Movement in Different Ways

One way to bring a\\-areness to our movement is to make distinctions about
how r,ve initiate movement. NIy overarching interest was to help partici-
pants become aware of hor,r,' the-y rvere moving. To facilitate this I rvould ask
students to distinguish betr,r,een different ways of initiating movement. My
aim lvas to encourage students to investigate their o\,vn way of initiating
movement rather than replicate what theY saw. The following example from
the field notes is from the dance technique section of class, a foot articula-
tion and weight transfer exercise, sequencing movement between the
upper body, pelvis and legs:
\\lhen you come to tiris (I am demonstlating and describing the exercise)
there are a 1ot of things to think about ot attract your attention if 1,es 1i1" . . .
You don't have to think about all of them . . . for me, sometimes I think about
the flgure of eight happening in the shoulder . . . or it might be this side of nrv
ribs, the-v fold in, they fold out ... If I exaggerate I can decide that it's going
48
SPRING 20O4 THE FELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17

to help turn m1, u,ho1e leg in and out . . . . P1a-v r,vith some of those ideas,
either the point of the shoulder drar,r,ing a flgure of eight or the ribs folding,
or feeling the heels drop and give rveight.

NIy intention was to facilitate shoulder and rib movement in relation to

the whole body. I presented a number of choices about rvhere students could
direct their attention to illustrate different ways to initiate the movements.

Comparing Sensations of Different Initiations

In directing attention to different initiations of movement during speciflc
exercises, I was artrare that my kinesthetic sensation and students' r.isual
perception could be very different. The following exampie is from a warm-
up exercise on the floor rn",here the intention was to warm up the pelvis,
spine, and hip joints in preparation for weight-bearing exercises in stand-
ing. I demonstrated a rotation movement r,vith the pelvis that couid also be
seen as a swinging movement initiated by using momentum of the arms to
drive the spine and pelvis. I wanted to convey the idea that I was initiating
movement with my pelvis:
In this movement here feel like the lorver abdominals are a part of this . . . it is
very easy to use momentum to s\,\ring (demonstration using arms then pelvis
to initiate) . . . see if -vou can drive it from the pelvis.

I identifled tn o distinct ways of perforrning a movement bv directing atten-

tion to the difference between using momentum and sensing initiation in
the abdomen. Often learning movement is not simply a matter of copying,
but understanding the intention behind the movement and how this influ-
ences choice of action.

DirectingAttention to the Sensation of Movement

In the previous example, I drew attention to initiation of movement. In the
following example, I was interested in the students' ability to distinguish
between different sensations. I noticed a tendency for some people to
slighfly pronate in their feet in a pli6 exercise. The pli6 exercise involves
flexion of the hips, knees, and ankles (bending and unbending the knees
while standing in different postural conflgurations e.S:., turned in, turned
out, etc.). It is a foundation movement for most forms of dance and also
acts as a preparation and recovery movement for travelling and jumping.
Misalignment of the feet and knees during the pli6 can lead to an imbalance
in the force being transmitted through the knee joints. After hours and
years of workingwith such misalignment, overuse injuries can develop.
Rather than give a correction, which is a common approach (and to which
the response is often "that is what a lot of teachers tell me"), I wanted stu-
dents to feel internally the support of their weight through their feet, and
to really notice the sensations in relation to the whole foot:
Press through your heels and your big toe. \iVhat is your sensation? Where
does your weight go on your feet? As you bend the knees and then straighten,
feel that the weight is even, not forward, not back. Feel the whole of the foot
absorbs your weight. You are trying to not favor the heel nor favor the ball
of the foot, the weight is right in the center of the foot.

In the bottom part of the pli6 movementwhere the knee is flexed, align-
ment is also determined by directing proprioceptive attention to the origins
of the movement. For example, beginning the movement by tucking (or
rolling their pelvis anteriorly) can change the kinetic forces acting upon the
feet, knees, pelvis, and lower back, The same applies for the opposite action

49
 .1HE FELDE\KRAIS
]OUR\AI, \O. 17 SPRI\G 2OO4

of pushing the pelvis backn ard. The pli6 is a deceptively simple movement
that oflen becomes more difficult according to the demands of alignment,
the constraints of technique, and the role it plays in conjunction with manv
other dance steps.

Describing Skeletal Movement

While Looking for Precise Sensations
Often I wolrld describe movement skeletally by asking students to search
for sensations in the moverlent of their skeleton. The following passage
from our Iield notes is from the beginning of the dance technique section of
class in preparation for a spinal ro11 commencing r,vith the head and upper
back. I was using the constraint of the arms behind the head in exploring
flexion and extension of the upper spine:
Iust bring 1,our hands behind vour head and ask yourself: \\lhat happens
nhen I bend tbnvard, look at the floor, and bring my elborvs foru,ard? As you
bend, rvhat happens in vour collarbones? As you roll forward, can you feel
that the front of vour ribs soften and that your collarbones move a little bit
torvards each other? As you look up, can you feel that the shoulder blades
slide donn.r the back and the collarbones open?

Here I r,vanted to introduce the idea that the thoraxrvas mobile and that the
scapula can slide over the back surface of the ribs in both flexion and exten-
sion movements. It is often the case in dance that the thorax and scapula
become r,ery flxed. \\4-rile necessary at times, this fixation is not alwavs useful.

Repeating Movement to Obtain a Clearer Sensation

Another lvay I encouraged a-,vareness was to ask students to make distinc-
tions about their movement based on their own understanding and sensa-
tions. I used repetition to clarifr sensation and proprioception, rather than

50
SPRING 2OO4 TIIE FELDTNKIIAIS ]OUR]iAT, \O. 17

to learn the mechanics of the movement. In this passage, which is a contin-

uation of the exercise quoted above, the action of looking up and down rvas
repeated to emphasize the sensation of the movement:
With r,or,rr elborvs wide, looking at the ceiiing, feel r'r'hat movement is avaii-
able for vou in vour upper back. \\t'rat happens betrveen your shoulder
blades? Feel rvhat happens in your neck. Feel rvhat happens in your collar-
bones . . . Do this enough times so that 1'sL1 have a clear feeling about what
happens in 1'our upper back -,vhen you keep -Your elborvs rvide and then
bring them fonr,ard. Hor,v do You access the feeling again? . . . Repeat the
movement again but u.ith the arms at the sides.

Through repetition I r,vanted students to make increasingly flne distinctions

about a simple movement and, b-v using the constraint of the arms behind
the head, in\rite attention to movement in their shoulder girdle.

Self-Questioning
In m\,endear,,or to bring learners' awareness to their individual processes
of movement I rvould ask questions throughout the class. Each day the class
would evolve from a specific theme introduced during the Art'areness
Through Movement section and threaded through the other three sections:
transition to standing, dance technique exercise, and dance technique
combination. In the following questions my aim r,t'as to connect the themes
from the aru section to the transition to standing section. The theme was
the reiationship of the abdomen, spine, and pelvis to walking:
Make an observation about Your r'r'alking. Do you f'eel hear,y? Do You feel
iight? Think of a quality that describes your rvalking this morning . . . \'&/hat is
the relationship of your abdomen to your legs?

By asking questions to bring students' awareness from general observations

to a speciflc relationship between their abdomen, legs, and pelvis in a sim-
ple activity such as rvalking, I endeavored to cue the idea that we \vere try-
ing to bring the sensations from the nru into speciflc actions. Later in the
week I focused on how rve use this support in a more complex activity such
as a dance phrase, requiring fast off-balance movement. In this instance I
wanted to identifv the relationship between the eru section and a chal-
ienging phrase of movement we had already learned.
It not about lifting -vour leg. It is about flnding hor,v your abdomen can
is
support the flexion of your hip . . . So I am interested in hor,v r'r'e use our
abdomen to flnd not only stability, but also a moving stability. So stabilitir
does not need to be locked but it can become dynamic. If the abdomen is
a part of the movernent of the 1eg then r,ve can do things like this (quick
demonstration of a jumping phrase from the previous ciass). We are using
the rnuscles to support the skeleton.

\Vhile this quotation is from the beginning part of the class I wanted to drar'r'
attention to howrve had approached this dynamic jumping phrase at the
end of the previous class, and the relationship between searching for small
initiations of movement in the eru and the continuing development of
these initiations within the more dynamic aspects of the class.

Discussion about Awareness Through Movement

Together, the dancers, Sylvie, and I entered into these classes to realize
individuai intentions and goals. Our abilities to realize our intentions, how-
ever, were influenced by our previous teaching and learning experiences'

5t
 THF FELDENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

Goldfarb (rggo) defines the relationship between learning, intention, and

action as that moment when the learners' "ability to carry out an intention
[to act] changes" (p. ro0). But what factors contribute to our ability to rcaJize
our intentions in dance? I believe our ability to carry out intention depends
on our awareness and knowledge of different ways we can achieve our
goals. The data demonstrated that one of my strategies to facilitate aware-
ness was to direct students' attention to their sensation of movement. Our
ability to direct attention is, however, limited. As Maturana suggests, ". . .
our perception is fundamentally constrained by the limits of our nervous
system" (in Goldfarb, 199o, p 35). Thus, our awareness is limited to whatwe
are able to hear, see, and sense, within ourselves and in the world around
us. Feldenkrais (1972) saw awareness as the moment between intention and
action. According to Feldenkrais this moment provides us with the oppor-
tunity to decide on an appropriate choice of action from a number of possi-
ble solutions to a task.
In these dance classes, my intent was to facilitate movement awareness.
\A/hen teaching I am looking for ways to provide verbal, visual, and sensory
cues to assist learners to construct meaning from their past and present
kinesthetic experience to achieve new goals during the lessons. By kines-
thetic experience I mean the sense and feeling of our body in motion
(Berleant, r97o). In teaching and learning dance our visual sense has tradi-
tionally been the predominant avenue for learning. O4e learning problem
for both teacher and student is how a student can translate what he/she
sees into kinesthetic sensation. Goldfarb (r99o) argues "the most direct way
to describe a movement goal is to describe it in terms of kinesthetic experi-
ence, in terms of what the mover must feel for in order to perform the task"
(p. tSB). Sensory feedback from our joints, muscles, tendons, and vestibular
apparatus gives us qualitative and quantitative information such as effort,
tension, direction, vibration, joint angles, velocity, and balance. All these
factors inform our kinesthetic sense (Goldfarb, rggo).

Conclusion on Teaching Practice

Through analyzing the data I was able to reveal the different ways I encour-
aged exploration of kinesthetic distinctions to direct attention to "the feel-
ing of what happens," to borrow Damasio's phrase (rsgs). I realized through
this research that what was missing from my own education as a dance stu-
dent was my feeling of how I was moving. My sense is that by introducing
new ways of teaching and learning within the established tradition of dance
technique class I provided an opportunity for a change in perspective to
occur. The flrst part of this change for me is a newunderstanding of my or,rm
teaching process.

A Last Note
This study focused on the experience of the teachers. However, we fully rec-
ognize the need to address the students' experience since how one teaches
is inseparable from how one learns. Teachers and students together create
the conditions in which knowledge is constructed and acquired. This is the
direction for a follow-up study that we are currenfly developing. How do
students experience the integration of somatics into the dance class? How
do students encourage or prevent the transformation of the dance culture?
Those are important questions to ask to get a better understanding of
somatic/dance integration and a wider resonance of the Feldenkrais
Method as an element in dance education.

52
SPRTNG 2OO4 THE FELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17

REFERENCES
Beringer, E. (zoor). Self-Imaging. Feldenkrais Jo urnal, 13, Zg-38.

Berleant, T. (rs;o). The Aesthetic Field: A Phenomenology ofAesthetic Experience. Spring-

field Illinois: Thomas.
Blank, D. (r982). Moving the Dance: Awareness Through Movement Classes for Dancers.
Feldenkrais J o ttrnal, 3, r-8.
Cochran-Smith, M. & S. M. L\.rtle. Gggg. Inside/outside: Teacher Research and Knowledge.
Ner,r. York: College Press, Columbia University.
Damasio,A. (tggg).TheFeelingofWhatHappens:BodyandEmotionintheMakingofCon-
sclousiless. Neui York: Harcourt Brace-
Dantas, NI. (zooo). Le corps dansant entre le texte et le contexte. Unpublished
manuscript, Unir.ersit6 du Qu6bec d Montr6al, Canada.
Eddy, M. (2ooo). Access to Somatic Theory and Applications: Socio-political Concerns.
Paper presented at the conference Dancing in the Millennium, George Washington
University, Washington o.c.
Eisner, E. W. (1998). What Intelligence Looks Like in the Arts. Dunedin, New Zealand: New
Zealand Association for Educational Research.
Feldenkrais, M. GgZz). Awareness Through Mouer?er?r. New York: Harper and Row.
Foster.S. L. (rggz). Dancing Bodies. In: J.C. Desmond (Ed.), Meaningin Motion. Durham,
North Carolina: Duke University Press.
Goldfarb, L. W. (rggo). Articularing Changes: Preliminary Notes to a Theory for Feldenkrais.
Berkeley: Feldenkrais Resources.
Green, I. (rggg). Somatic Authority and the Myth of the Ideal Body in Dance Educarion.
Dance Research Journal,3l(2), 8o-roo.
Green, J. (zooo). Social Somatic Theory, Practice, and Research: An Inclusive Approach
in Higher Education. Paper presented at the conference Dancing in the Miliennium,
George Washington University, Washington D.C.
Green, l. (zoor). Socially Constructed Bodies in American Dance Classrooms. Research in
Dance Educatio n, z(z), 155 -173.
Heshusius, L. (rgg+). Freeing Ourselves from Objectivity: Managing Subjectivity or Turn-
ing Toward a Participatory Mode of Consciousness? Educational Researcher, 23e), $-22.
Lessinger, C. r9g0. The Nature ofFeldenkrais and lts Value to Dancets. In: S. Fitt (Ed.),
Dance Kinesiology (znd ed.). Ner,t York: Schirmer Books.
Schultz, M. (zooo). Looking Ahead: Seeing Dance Trends in Nen Zealand. Danz: The
Oficial Magazine of Dance,1o, 1o-14.
Sheets-lohnstone, M. (r979J. The Work of Dr. Moshe Feldenkrais: A New Applied Kinesiol-
ogyandaRadicalQuestioningofTrainingandTechnique. ContactQuarterly.Fall,z4-zg.
Simpson, N,I. (1996). Dance science: A Second Step Approach. Impulse.4(r), 1-5.
Shusterman, R. (zooo). Performing Liue: Aesthetic Alternatiues for the Ends of Art. New
York: Cornell University Press.

Tl-ris paper is a shorter version of an article

published in Research in Dance Educa-
rloa with Nladeleine Lord from the Universit6 du Qu6bec i Montr6a1. We would
also like to extend thanks to Feldenkrais Practitioner Zoran Kovich from the LIni-
versity olWestern Sydney, New South Wales, Australia who assisted in the data
collection and initial analysis ofthis study.

53
 TIIF FELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

MaryAzrael

Practice

This is the way it begins:

Someone lies dor,rm
like a sacriflce.
an offering, a problem,
a body that needs
. . . r,r,hat?l
I don't know how to do this.
I don't knowwhat
will happen if I try, and I
don't know r,t here to start.

Remember to breathe.
the teacher says.
OK. I can breathe.
Put a pillor,rr under her hard-working shoulder,
a soft rolled towel to rest his thigh.
Physics. Gravity. Skeletons in gravity.
Words are clumsy and slow.
Let them go.

This is the way we practice

to let the mind's chattering subside,
to remember Being
before we were separate,
to knon- and cherish someone.

\\rhen we greet, with welcoming eyes in our palms,

a iife like ours, a Iife like no other,
the quiet in the room
moves like the breath of a sleeper
in a dream ofrvordless call and response,
a dream of imperfect and loving conversation.
This is the r,vay r,r,'e begin.

54
SPRING 2()O4 TIlE FELDEN(ltArS IOURNAT. \O. 17

Louise Runyon

Making an lmpact:
Lessons from Voice and Dance

he most primal actiyities of humans are inseparablyphysical/

-I- I vocal activities: having sex and giving birth (rvhen not culturally
or pharmaceuticallv inhibited); heaw labor (as in chain gang or
I
other wolk songs, or the grunts emitted while digging or shovel-
I
f ing); and vioience (from a karate kiai to the rvar cries of all
nations). The voice is inextricably linked with movement, and vice versa.
Babies and small children coo and babble, cry and sing naturall|, as they
explore themselves and their rvorld through moving. Top-ranking tennis
plavers make explosive sounds as the_v hit the ball; folk dancers i,vhoop and
holler u,hen the dance reaches fever pitch. Keening and lvailing, nrith their
related rro\rements, prevail at funerals in many cultures. Yet quality of
voice rnav be less recognized, on a conscious ievel, than quality of mor.e-
ment in our societr., both b.v the general public and by us as practitioners.
I u,ou1d like to propose that applications liorn the fleids of voice and dance
(the dance form of Contact Improvisation, in particular) are integral to the
Feldenkrais \letl'rod ol somatic education, based on my experience as a
dancer rvho 1-ras u-orked extensivel\,r,vith i oice.

LESSONS FROM VOICE: WE ARE ONE INSTRUMENT

N{oshe Feldenkrais had both influence on, and dialogue with, Kristin
Linklater, a loice teacher r,r,ho in turn has broadly influenced a genera-
tion ol nrore of actors, singers, and others. In Freeing the lrlatttral Voice, Litt-
klater states:
Since the sound ofthe voice is generated byphysical processes, the inner
muscles of the body must be free to receive the sensitive impulses liom
the brain that create speech. The naturai voice is most perceptibl_v blocked
and ciistorted bv ph-vsical tension. . . . The natural r.oice is transparent-
rer-ealirrg, r-rot describing, inner impulses of emotion and thought directlv
and spontaneouslv. The person is heard, not the person's voice. To tree the
rroice is to free the person, and each person is indir.isiblv mind and bod-v.r

In r969, I r,vorked r,r,ith loseph Chaikin's Open Theater in New York, lvhich
included study r,r,ith a Linklater-trained voice teacher. This was mv intro-
duction to the indir,isibility of voice and body. The Open Theater uras
revolutionary as a phlrsigsi/vocal ensemble, whose use of voice included
nonverbal sound as rvell as nords. This group developed the classic impro-
visational exercise of "Sound and Movement," -"vhere one person transmits
an abstract physicali vocal gesture to another, r,vho then enters into the

cc
 THE I'ELDENKRA]S JOURNAL NO. 17 SPRI\G 2OO4

intention of the flrst person, organically changes the gesture to his or her
own, transmits it to a third person, and so on. The idea of sound and move-
ment together is that, both as artists and as humans, we are one instrument:
there is no true separation between body and voice. We are artificially sepa-
rated by our culture into voice and body and in multiple other ways, but "in
God's eyes" we are all simultaneouslymoving, feeling, sensing, thinking,
vocalizing, and dancing beings.
Danx, a musician who was diagnosed with focal dystonia, could not get
his flngers to respond to the messages from his brain. \Alhen he came for
his flrst Functional Integration (Fr) lesson, I noticed his great rigidity while
playing music, and a general lack of vitality: his face was pale and he walked
with his head dor,'rn. After several lessons, it struck me as a contradiction
that Dan had a tiny, timid voice despite playing the bassoon, a large and
demanding wind instrument. He eventually revealed that the most threat-
ening experiences for him were speaking loudly, or even being in the same
room with someone speaking loudly. We gradually began to add voice to
movement, most successfully fast, rh),thmic movement (including lessons
from RuthyAlon's Bones for Life'*). Dan was able to flnd free-flowing voice
and free-flowing movement simultaneously, each informing, if not guaran-
teeing, the other. In these moments, he seems most fully alive. We are now
exploring finding the passion that originally led him to music, his chosen
medium for self-expression. Two techniques we have used are air-playing
a piece he feels passionately about (without the pressure of holding the
instrument or blowing), and hearing that piece in his imagination while
doing the pelvic clock and just holding the bassoon. My sense was that,
although the bassoon is far from an ergonomically designed instrument, it
was Dan's loss of connection to that most vital in himself that was prevent-
ing him from healing. Although his flngers are not yet doing exactly what
he wants them to do, his injury has taken him on a major journey toward
greater vitality and passionate self-expression in every area ofhis life. Pay-
ing attention to voice was the turning point in that process for both of us.

THE NOTION OF DISPLACEMENT

Anna, a woman with a tremor, taught me a related lesson. I placed m), hand
on her chest and waited for her to find some breath there. \\4ten she did not, I
suggested that she might breathe into my hand. Her reply i,vas that she could
not, that this rvould mean displacing my hand with her breath-rvhich'"t as
against her code of how to conduct herself in the lvorld. In the course of our
explorations, Anna had begun to mo\re much more freely and deveioped an
extremel-y smooth, gliding walk. Ho-,vever, this r,r''aik only moved fonvard,
not up and down: there r,vas no bounce or spring to her step. I realized that
there rvas a connection between that and the lack of breath in her chest,
and that a spring in her step, a pushing into the earth in order to move for-
ward and up, r,rrouid also rriolate her code of no displacement.
Anna came to learn the triggers for her tremor: stress, caffeine, hoiding
her arm up in the air-and tr,r,o actirdties we explored itl rr: paradoxical
breathing, and jogging. On an intuitive hunch, I asked Anna to jog verr,
Iightly at the end of a lesson to see if the activity might "jog" her into seeiug
how things connect in the locomoting vertical as they had on the table. This
appeared to be disastrous initially, causing a violent tremor, but rve both
came to see this as important information. Paradoxical breathing also pro-
duced a violent tremor. As we rvorked more rvith breath, rroice and chest,
Anna revealed that she had neither laughed nor cried aloud in ten vears,

56
SPRING 2OO4 THE FELDENKRAIS ]OI]RNAL NO, 17

and that she had never yelled at anyone. She began an experiment of
screaming in her car with the windows rolled up, this being her level of
comfort. Later, during a hiatus in our work, she went through a major
period oicrying. \Mhen she returned, there was an astonishing improve-
ment in her freedom of movement.
\Mhen I asked another client to vocalize at the end of a sigh, she told me
that her mother had forbidden her to sigh because she took sighing as an
expression of insolence. Yet another client told me that yarnming for the flrst
time in five years of dealing with a repetitive stress injury was an epiphany
to her of how much she had been holding in and holding back during that
time. Sighing, ya\ ryIing, yelling, laughing, and crying all involve forceful
exchanges of air, displacements of air in space. The prohibition of these
natural actions is a subtle-and huge-degree of inhibition and control
faced by so many in our culture, and with such disastrous consequences.
One wonders what role freedom of breath might have played in preventing
the five spinal fusions undergone by one of these clients, and the injury and
disease faced by others.
These displacements of air-intangible, weightless air-are part of the
larger picture of all that we experience, but perhaps do not fttlly notice, as
we go about our daily lives. They all relate to being alive, present, and con-
nected with the world, with having an impact and making a difference, with
being heard and felt and seen. This is the difference between existing in a
bubble or vacuum (or being perched), and being grounded, able to move
others and be moved.

LESSONS FROM DANCE: CONTACT IMPROVISATION

In addition to moving airwith voice and breath, I began to feel the need
for resistance with my clients, for solid surfaces to push against with the
body. I began with Emily, a young girl with mild cerebral palsy. Like Anna,
who sat on her hands, Emily tried to hide her disability by covering her
"bad hand" with her "good" one. Although on one level a very self-assured
young woman, she was also affected with teenage self-consciousness. I
sensed a need for her to feel her strength, to have something to push off
of, to meet solid resistance. A colleague suggested that I do Contact Impro-
visation with her.
Contact Improvisation is a dance form where two partners maintain con-
tact of body surfaces-the shelves and ledges of the back, front, sides, hips,
shoulders, and head. The giving and sharing of weight is essential to Contact,
which often involves partners lifting and rolling over each other. The most
common mistake of beginners in this "art sport" is to avoid givingweight.
Picture leaning on a wall: you are not pushing against it, but neither are you
shying away from it. In Contact Improvisation you entrust your full weight
to another but are always ready to fall, to roll to the floor; the bottom line is
that you have responsibility for your ovrm weight and safety. The beauty of
Contact is in the effortless conversation of two connected bodies in motion,
and it feels like having a three-dimensional massage. It is highly embodied
and connected work you know where you are, where the other person is,
and they know where you are; you feel each other through your weight.
Emilywas not quite readyto do Contact Improvisationwith me, but I
began to workwith her, and other clients, with an B" firm foam bolster. This
was inspired by a footboard lesson, after which Emily was able to keep her
left heel in the stirrup for the flrst time in horseback riding. I realized that
other surfaces to push against, e.g. a handboard, or the bolster, would be

57
 TIIE FELDENKIIAIS JOIIRNAL NO. 17 SPRI\G 2OOr+

helpful. Through this rvork Emily became able to flex her left r,r,rist, just as
she had learned to flex her left ankle in the stirrup. I alternated hal'ing hel
push through her hands rvith having her resist me pushing into her chest
rvhile sitting; this helped her feei rvhere the por,ver in her arms and hands
originates. Ernilv's image of her left side began to change, becoming larger
and more powerful. She became more embodied, not just in herself, but irt
relation to her environment.
I have clients punch the bolster both before and after rr, and aiso pttsh
against it rvith their chest, mid-back, and sides (through the upper arms). I
also use the bolster as a bridge betn een them and the rvall, so that thev lean

58
SPRING 2OO4 THE FELDENKRAIS IOURNAI- NO. 17

with their chest on one end, sometimes doing tiny flexion/extension move-
ments and sometimes a tiny pulse. I have added voice and pounding of the
feet on the floor to punching, going so far as to invoke the idea of tantrum-
certainly a totai voice/bodv experience! This has given people the opportu-
nity to come into contact not only with their own strength and power but
also with unreleased anger and its total physical/vocal expression.
In Contact Improvisation, in voice, and in work with a bolster, the issue
of displacement-making a difference, being seen, feit, and heard-is the
same, r,vhether moving air, another human, or a piece of foam. The issue is
one of being embodied in the r,r,orld, about being in relationship to the
earth, the atmosphere, and other living beings.

WORKING WITH VOICE

Because voice is such a barometer of breath, an audible and inescapable
indicator of one's true intent and state of being, it is, in my experience, the
scariest thing for most people. \\hen I lead workshops for dancers on body
and voice, I start with about five minutes of aerobic activity before asking
them to vocalize-this gets them tired, in touch with their breath, and helps
them forget their fear. I then ask them to sigh out from their highest note
to their lowest-this often produces anxiety, but I ask them to accept that
everyone does, in fact, have a highest note, a lowest note, and all that are in
betrveen. They tell personal stories and sing personal songs en masse. By
the time we get to solo "Sound and Movement, " most are connecting rvith
an unimpeded sound.
In my work with clients, I ask them to vocalize before, after, and often
during, r'r. We do a lot of exploration with the breath, Iungs, and chest.
Engaging the vocal chords at the end of a whispered sigh, "haaaa," helps
clarifli movement in the chest and the downward release of the sternum.
Laughing is also excellent for thisl Sometimes when I am helping someone
find movement in their chest theywill laugh, and suddenly their chest will
move very easily. I jokingly tell them that if they have laughter, they don't
need the Feldenkrais Method; this produces more laughter, and even more
movement in the chest. In Awareness Through Movement (aru) or in pr,
when people hold their breath I ask them to make a "ha ha ha," which
immediately prompts them to breathe. Rapid, rhl,thmic movement (such
as rocking through the heels) is improved bv engaging the voice; conversely,
connecting voice',tith movement makes vocalizing easier and less scary.
Susan gave the appearance of being extremel.v flat in her upper body-
face, head, torso, and arms. Her legs rvere quite full and rounded, though
by no means unnaturallv so. She also had a teeny, tinv voice, but talked
constantly after r,r. She revealed that her mother had criticized her legs as
being unseemly and large. Apparenthr, $us21 had succeeded in flattening
out the rest of herself according to her mother's standards but did not suc-
ceed with her iegs; her flattened torso and face probably resulted in an
ensuing lack of oxygen and maybe even reduced space in her mouth cavity.
We explored the volume and depth of her torso, learning from the three-
dimensionality of her legs. Susan u,as not particularly interested in lvorking
with voice, but it was such an obvious issue that I gently encouraged her,
having her sing "Baa baa black sheep" (her choice) before, during, and after
pr, and suggesting no talk following the lesson. Her voice did not become
large, but I never heard the teeny, tiny voice again.
In Bones for Life'"' though speciflcally developed in order to generate
bone mass, voice and movement are consistentiy used together. In her

59
 THE FELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17 SPRTNG 2OO4

"Bouncing on the Heels," Ruthy directs her students to vocalize "pum pum"
on the one-two of a\/Ebeat.In jumping, she vocalizes "ha" on the flrst count
of aal+ beat. She asks students to engage the voice and let it ride through
rocking movements. Interestingly, her students' vocal quality is clear and
connected, increasingly so as alignment improves. Bones for Life', with its
emphasis on pushing and pulling, walking and jumping, and making solid
connection with the earth through wall and floor, is very closely connected
to the ideas presented in this article about resistance, contact, displace-
ment, and impact.
As I have begun to teach Bones for Life,,, I find that my students are very
open to vocalizing while doing the rapid rocking movements. Social class
situations are also conducive to including voice. In my regular arM classes,
students tdnd to be somewhat isolated on their mats and hesitant to use
their voices, but in a recent class for senior citizens there was much discus-
sion and exchange, and they enjoyed making noise. These women also
tended to be tense, working very hard at the movement. In order to diffuse
the tension, I would ask them to give a little "Hey!" now and then. We dis-
cussed howwomen are taught to keep feet and knees together and the
ensuingloss of mobilityin the pelvis, and these students became very
aware of their need to let go. Laughing and bellowing were a great hit-
they were really ready to displace air! Of course, these students moved
more easily afterwards.

CONCLUSTON
Not everyone with whom we work dances, but virtually every single person
vocalizes. Changes invoice occur often after rr andarlr: the voice becomes
deeper, frrller, richer, more resonant. This doesn't happen as often as it
could, however, and I would like to suggest that our students might bene-
fit from us as practitioners paying more attention to vocal quality as a
barometer of breath*andtherefore an indicator of movement, and of life.
As many of my clients have noted, connecting with an authentic voice also
contributes to speaking one's truth.
The idea of physically/vocally interacting with the environment and
making an impact, a difference in the world, is not new; it relates very
strongly to the realization of human potential. Perhaps the flelds of voice
and dance (Contact Improvisation, in particular) and the as-old-as-life
activities of singing and dancing, sound and movement, can help us expand
our work and understand ourselves and our clients in a rounder, fuller way.

xAll student names have been changed

to protect privacy,

r. Linklater, Kristin. Freeing the NaturalVoice. Drama Book Specialists, New

York, 1926, p. z.

60
SPRTNG 2OO4 'lHE F1-.LDENKR-C.rS IOURNAL NO. r7

Kyle Lee Williams

Dreaming of Proust: Reveries

on Self, Habit, & Transformation
body and mind are not separate entities but one and the same life."1

GUSTAV JUNG
-CARL

short time ago I had a dream. In it, I am attending a Feldenkrais

training program, practicing hands-on work with a fellow stu-
dent. This woman with whom I am working requests something
of her spine. We explore for some time. Then we break for lunch
and are joined by Dr. Feldenkrais himself. During the course
of our meal in a nearby diner, he talks with the two of us in several different
languages. I have difficulty following what he is saying. Eventually he settles
into a discussion in French, which I follow fairly well (in my dream world,
anyway). The woman with us says to me, "He is talking about Proust"
(Marcel Proust, the French novelist, tl7r-tgzz).I tell Feldenkrais, yes, I have
read some Proust and he seems pleased. We continue listening while he
talks at great length about the importance of reading Proust if one wants
to understand the Feldenkrais Method of movement education. The dream
continues, but one fact emerges. Feldenkrais has told me it is important for
my development to read Proust if I want to understand his work.
At the time of the dream, I was a fourth-year Feldenkrais student, both
consciously and unconsciously trying to assimilate what I had learned. Like
others, I was trying to flnd ways of fitting this Method into this great schema
called myself. \I/hat do I do now?How db I make this work my ou,rr? And
like my fellow students, I had reached that critical point of trying to inte-
grate the teachings of Feldenkrais with the other profound ways of learning
that have made me who'I know myself to be. For manyyears I have been a
student of Jungian psychology and so, in short, I follow my dreams.
With the help of a Iungian analyst, I begin to study this dream and
acknowledge that I have been given an assignment bythe unconscious. In
s]rynbolic language, this particular assignment has come from Feldenkrais
himself and is in need of ampliflcation. The dream itself is a series of image
lessons provided and designed by the unconscious. It occurs to me that it is
rather like a Functional Integration (rr) lesson, highly personal, specific yet
"generalize-able." It is of the moment, intimate, andyet, perhaps also of
interest to others. And so I share these reflections.
I might mention that being given the assignment to re-read Proust was
not altogether a welcome task. I read the first book of his enormous multi-
volume novel some thirteen or fourteen years ago. I was unsure whether or
not his endless recounting of sensuous detail would appeal to me now in
the way that it thrilled me when I was twenty-four. It would be a revisiting,

6l
 THE FELDE\KRAIS JOITRNAL NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

62
SPRTNG 20O4 1'HE Ii-bLDENKRIIS IOURNAL NO. 1I

a novel experience of an old memory. Nread-v I notice tirat I have fallen into
the realm ofFeldenkrais language: revisiting the past, a novel experience.
I can hardly resist laughing at the pun presented by the unconscious. it is
having fun r,r,,ith me even before r,r,e have begun the journey. Did I sa-v nouel?
As if there is some inherent relationship betr,r,een the trvo different uses of
the ivord? Etymologicall_v, there is a relationship. Nor,,els were once consid-
ered gossipy ner,r,rs, chitchat, or tales of scandal, mythology, and morals.2
It is as if what we perceive as "ner,r," becornes the literature of our lives, the
rnoment-to-moment stories rerrisiled bv memory, the "chitchat" of the
mind, a healing fiction. Perhaps iike Proust, in the act of recounting and
creating our healing flction in some nel,rr form, vve create and transform our
present and future. We become \r,ho .,t e reallv are, and r,.',ho we desire to be.
The title of Proust's opus has meaning for anyone in search of novel
experiences of the self. A la recherche dtr ternps perdu, r,vas {irst transiated as
Renteniltrartce of 'fhings Pasr. I soon discover that even this is ner,r, and diff-
erent. Ne-"ver translators have made more si"ibtle choices and have subse-
quentl-v clranged tl-re title. The nor.el is now'knor,vn as lrt Search of Lost Time.
The change in title is itself meaningful. The difference betr,veen the tr,vo
translations strikes me as startling and I furd myseif rvondering lvhat this
may mean symbolicallr, in terms of my own perspective. Hor,rr is memory of
the past different from a searching for lost time?
\\tren I uras t\,\.enty-for-rr this literaryiourney seemed like a passive
remembering, an activity of aesthetic imagination and romantic musing.
Now, at the age of forty-one, this nervversion of the title seerns to me more
urgent, more grounded. Like our Method, it emphasizes exploration, a
search and recollection of that most valuable yet abstract concept, Seli-
both in Tirne and Space, and even these are abstracted names rve give to
experience itself. Already I har,,e leamed something nerv from this nor.el. It
is sornething that A.,,r,areness Through Nlor.ement (arr,r) and Functional
Integration teach me every da\,, that the senses and perceptions of one age
(and one moment) are not those of another, for u,e gror,v into our becoming,
and in this perception, past, present, and future exist simultaneously. \i\re
ourselves are the lir,ing effects oltime, environment, memon, and habit,
the rer,.eries and results of place and personality, just as Feldenkrais taught.
And so I opened the flrst book of the series, Stuartn's Way, again as if for
the flrst time. Ntluch to rny delight, I see imrnediatell, rvh-y Feldenkrais has
reminded me that this book has something to sa-y to me about the Method.
lnlhe OuertLu'e, the main character experiments with his or,r,n erperience,
feeling his bodilv conflgurations, experiencing r,virat arises from his
thoughts and emotions, fiorn the deepest reaches of spontaneor-rs intuition.
I notice that the narrator of the novel is doing just n hat lve do when r,r,e
practice Arvareness Through N4ovement. I{e is scanning, searching fbr him-
self, locating his coordinates in time and space, distinguishing inner from
outer, cuitirrating and reclaiming his 1'elt sense, uniting opposites in a
deepll, interior self by recognizing distinctions.
When a man is asleep, he has in a circie lound him tl.re chains of the hours,
the sequence of the 1,sn1s, the older of the heavenlv bodies. Instir-rctivell,he
consults them r,vhen he ar,r,akes, and in an instant reads off his orvn position
on the earth's surface and the time that has elapsed during his slumbers. . . .3

My thoughts r,vent immediatelrr to the "Nexander Yanai" lessons r,ve had

been learning in these last r,r,eeks of my training, the lessons r,r,hich focus ol
the five cardinal lines. I feel myself au,akening to the sensation of these lines
opening like hoses flowing with preciotls water coursing through eacir of us

63
 TIIE FELDENKITAIS JOUR].JAI- NO. 17 SPRI\G 2OO.1

in all directions. Like human sundials, breathing, consulting, nith out-

stretched limbs feeling for the edges of the circle, we are those shapes, indi-
vidual interpretations of DaVinci's multi-limbed man, part human, part
divine, like some dancing diva lvhose extra arms and legs add dynamism to
an already perfectly imperfect form.a
The experience of self while practicing ArNr can be an act of measuring
ourselves against some surface, effable or imagined, like Proust searching
for self against memory and time. But horv does one measure oneself
against the as-vet-unimagined, against r,r,hat is unconscious or bevond
present perception and awareness? This emerging self that -"ve discover,
like this present moment of scanning, echoes Proust's instinct for explain-
ing the relative impact of time on the individual's perception of "I." We are
embodiment's mark upon essence just as \\re are the evidence of essence
expressed through embodiment.
Perhaps Feldenkrais would agree that the constructs of time and envi-
ronment, the plasticity of self, and the dance among all these, and the
unconscious, the Possible, That-of-\'\4rich-We-Must-Become-Arvare,
create who we are and r,vho rve can become. The dialogue of all these is a
self-generating force and reality. Proust, like Feldenkrais, reminds us that
we come to knor,rr and discover the shape of ourselves against the coordi-
nates of time and spatial relationships, through perception of the facts of
the body, the images and activities of mind. We need the surface of Life to
provide resistance, to push back against us, to teach us, in order to discor,er
the evolving self. The uia negatiua is the route of self-learning br. subtract-
ing the non-essential, what Feldenkrais called the need to factor out the
"parasitic." Like Proust's man awakening to a ne,,v morning, this act of
subtracting makes it possible to recalibrate who.nve once \,vere and open to
what or urhom we must become, this new self, errer grolving and adapting
by integrating the unknor,r,n.
Proust says, when we an aken from sleep, when we feel ourselves against
some surface, r,ve take account of ourselves. In our accounting of ourselr,es,
we orient and receive. We attempt to eliminate the non-essential. \,\ihen u-e
initiate this act of becoming aware in the manner that Feldenkrais taught,
we invite the forces creating ourselves simply by recognizing rvhat is alreadr-
there. Being with ourselves in reai time creates the conditions for experi-
encing what is Possible. Taking time to sense, to feel, transforms the pre-
sent moment but also becomes a search for lost time, a scanning of the
mechanisms of memon, devoid of content. It leaves us gentler r,r-ith our-
selves and gentler r,vith the u,orld. Hor,r, odd, in some sense. Horr- ordinan'.
and yet how precious and rare. So too, r,vhen we take the time to remember
an image, record a dream, or to investigate the unknown by putting our
own experience under study, for the sake of becoming r,vho lve alreadr-are,
we are making the Possible present. In the following excerpt, Proust's char-
acter seems to practice err,r just by noticing himself. He feels his bodr- in
space, his mind in time and images. He takes that first step tolvard knorvl-
edge. He questions the truth of his ow'n perceptions.
Perhaps the immobility of the things that surround us is fbrced upon therr
b.v our conviction that they are themselves and not an\thing else, bv the
immobility of our conception of them. For it alr,r,ays happened that when
I ar,voke like this, and my mind struggled in an unsuccessful attempt to dis-
cover rvhere I rvas, every4hing revolved around me through the darkness:
things, places, _vears. My body. . . r,vould endeavour to construe from the
pattern of its tiredness the position of its various 1imbs, in order to deduce

64
 SPRING 20O4 THE FELDENKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17

therefrom the direction of the r,vall, the location of the furniture, to piece
together and give a name to the house in which it 1a1,. Its memory, the com-
posite memory of its ribs, its knees, its shoulder blades, offered it a series of
rooms in rvhich it had at one time or another slept, r,vhile the unseen r,val1s,
shifting and adapting themselves to the shape of each successive room that
it remembered, rvhirled round it in the dark. And even before m1, brain, hesi-
tating at the threshold of times and shapes had reassembled the circum-
stances sufflcientil, to identif.v the room, it-my bod1,-1"orri6 recall from
each room in succession the style of the bed, the position of the door, the
t. angle at r,vhich the day light came in at the r'vindor,vs, whether there lvas
passage outside, what I had had in my mind when I r,r,ent to sleep and found
there rvhen I awoke. The stiffened side on which I lay rvould, for instance, in
trying to fix its position, imagine itself to be lying tace to the lvall in a big bed
'"vith a canopy. . . . Then the memory of a nerv position would spring up, and
the.,r,al1 rvould slide ar,vay in another direction . . .5

The insights from Proust and Feldenkrais are these: that the conflgur-
ation of body and mind we call self is permeable, open to the effects of
memory and enrrironment, stimulated, augmented, and inspired, even in
the literai sense of breathing, by what is in the moment both kno-"vn and
unknown, below the threshold of consciousness, the unconscious. Lying
just beneath or behind this, our present self, perception, within our more
profound images and fantasies, is the fact of a ner,v being. Ald this new fact
is just as real, more real, but just as ephemeral, just as exquisite in nuance
as memory and environment themselves. Within the mind's activity there is
no difference betrveen projection and perception. Our most profound pro-
jections tell us ,,r,ho \,r'e really are, Iike it or not. That is lr,hy r,r.e must learn to
be accountable to both. Projections and perceptions create self and r,vorld,

65
 'rHE TELDE,\KnAlS JOrJR-\r\L \O. 17 SPRI\G 2OO.+

and their origins are both in us and be-vond us. We are not responsible for
the contents of the unconscious. We are responsible lbr our response to
their promptings. How dangelous. Hor,r, enticing. We practice to become
ever capable of accepting, accommodating, and relating with more of our-
selves, embracing the ugliness ure cast upon ourselves and each other, and
claiming the beauty n e so often see in others as truly alive rvitliin ourseh'es.
We are rarely at home r,r,ith such a radical shift. We are rarell, able to coutait't
such opposites. The doont av n here \ve stand, or sit, or lie, readl to receir-e
and to participate in this ner,r, self, is tender and fragile.
Proust's narrator, in his reverie, feeis the effects ofhis fixed perceptions.
His environment begins to attack hirn. His sensations, no Ionger interest-
ing, or supportive, begin to confront him. The-v are present in his attention
because thev represent both conflict and potentiai, but he perceives onlr-
one of these. None of us escapes this experience, no matter how irarsh or
mild. Physical constraints, aging, heartache, serious illness, trauma, the dis-
connection betrveen self and others, vacant amorphous loneliness, apathy,
lack of meaning, or maybe just plain evil touches each of us, somen here,
sometime. We collide rvith oul enrrironment. We collide r,r,ith our o\\n per-
ceptions. Constraints arise and habit responds. Feldenkrais spoke of the
mouse r,r,,ho learns to sun ive first by scurrying around the edges of the room,
never venturing across the floor until he has found the lastest u,av back to
his mouse-hole. We too Iearn to surl,irre b1, learning and retracing onlr,the
parameters of our experiences and environment. B\, learning our rvat- back
to safetv, we Iearn to knor,r, ourseir,es and our rvolld. \\te learn to \.elltLlre
lorth and rve learn our rt'ay back to our molrse-hoies. This is the cleation
of habit. But Proust's character begins to feel hor'v small is his mouse-ho1e.
He feels confined, violated by ordinar-v realitv. His u,or1d is rocking and he
scans for a way out, for some normal sense of seif and surrounding, for
some habit of farniliarity, of safetv, of identity to r,rrhich he can cling.
. . . mentall-v poisoned b-v the ur.rfamiliar scent of vetiver, I u'as convinced of
the hostilit-v of the violet curtair-rs and of the insolent indifference of a clock
that chattered on at the top of its rroice as though I r,vere not there; . . . m)'
mind, stliving for l.rour s on end to break ar,r,ay from its rnootings, to stretch
upnards so as to take on the exact shape ofthe room and to teach to the top-
most l.reight of its gigantic funnel, had endtired manv a paintul night as I 1ar'
stretched out in bed, my eyes staring uprvards, mv ears straining, mv nostrils
flaring, my heart beating . . . .';

Proust's narrator finds the courage to be present to his sensations. He

flnds himself searching the environment, seeing r'r,ith inner eyes, looking,
facing object and light, reaching for the funnei of the ceiling above and the
u,alls on all sides-scanning for the contact that ivill define se1f, not self.
Don't ."ve do this in ern ? His reveries are enacted in his eyes, ears, his healt,
his nostrils. His accounting of himself is measured b-v the ticking clock, first
enemy, then friend, as it clicks away at his successive approximations, his
at tenrpt at sell'-recognition.
He seeks that "soft plenituds"z of the familiar and it eludes him. Frorl
my own dream I think back to the spine of mv dream woman colleague,
and I wonder nrhat she desires (r,vhat I desire) to accomplish and r,r,hv it
seems distant to her, as if invisible because it is behind her, inside her, the
center of her being. She seeks an improvement of function in that unifi-irrg
backbone, that by virtue of all its individual pieces, holds all other bones
together, bringing brain and mind to the furthest extremities of bodr'. Sire
seeks a r,rnion of opposites. And in this present moment, I think of the shape

66
SPRTNG 2OO4 THE ITELDENKRAIS JOURNA], NO, 17

of m1, ribs as I hold the book in which I write; I feel the shape of my hands,
the curl of my flngers, the shape of myself. I notice r,r,here I am breathing
and where I am not. I sense my eyes and voice, my tongue and heart falling
out onto this very page.
I encounter my own perceptions fixed and immobilized by my concep-
tions of them-this fact of bod1,, this hazy mkture of perception and pro-
jection u,e cail mind. Is it true that my ribcage can move in onlv certain
familiar directions? Is it rea1l-v possible that each rib can move separatellr
from the other? Can jalv and face let go into a new conflguration, or are
they the involuntarl prison guards of present identity? Are the facts of
habitual patterns the r,vall of memory, a self that holds head, eyes, tongue,
and allows breathing in onl-v certain parts of the lungs? \\hat world lvould
fall away if a ner,rr self r,vere to breath suddenly from a different place? \\trat
wouid emerge if every time I smiled these flve cardinal lines of limbs and
spine grer,v longer in all directions?

67
 THE FEI-DTNKRAIS JOURNAL NO. 17 SPRI\G 20O4

A similar shifting begins to occur for Proust's character. He finds a famil-

iar place, a new self through which to perceive certaint-v. Because of this
new self, the cultivation of nerv pathways of perception and an expansion
of the habitual, because of an integration of the contents of the uncon-
scious the world itself appears differently.
Until habit had changed the colour of the curtains, silenced the clock. . .

disguised or even completely dispelled the scent of vetiver, and appreciablr,

reduced the apparent loftiness of the ceiling. Habit: that skilful but slorv-
moving arranger who begins by letting our minds sulfer for lr,eeks on end in
temporary quarters, but rvhom our minds are none the less onl-v too happl.
to discover at last, for rvithout it, reduced to their own devices, they would be
por'verless to make any room seem habitable. Certainly I was norv r,r,ell au.ake;
m1, body had veered round for the last time and the good angel of certaintl
had made all the surrounding objects stand still, had set me dor,r,n . . . .8

In this passage Proust teaches us that habit is itself in search of novel

perception. It is not merely the enemy of the new; it is also the one u,ho is
sturdy enough to receive the new, the ego capable of handling the emerging
Self. Habit craves novelty but when novelty becomes overwhelming, -,r,e
search for the mouse-hole of the familiar in order to surwive.
This seed of the newest self desires the breaking of old habits and r.et it
depends on the strength of habit for its very existence and stability. The
homunculuse of the alchemists, this seed of the new se1f, the little person
nearly embryonic, reiies upon habit as if it were the great messenger god,
Hermes, policing the journey, accompanying the identity through the shift-
ing and transmuting of perception and fact. Habit itself seeks out the per-
meability rvhich is its opposite in order to participate in becoming. Habit,
both conscious and unconscious, knorvn and unknown, is that oll,,hich u,e
are slowly becoming more aware. It is both the mechanism of our subjectir'-
ity, opening to new possibiliry, and the shape of that new experience. Habit
can become the subjective container of an objective realit-V, holding rvithin

68
SPRTNG 2OO4 TI{E FELDENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17

it the axis, the relationship, between ego-consciousness and the transper-

sonal unconscious.
Many of us have experienced what we in my training came to refer to
as "a Feldenkrais moment," that earth-shattering, self-shattering, break-
through, break-dor,vn, build-up, radical shifting of something unconscious,
ineffable ecstasy, an experience ofa selfbeyond our present self, as it
pushes or flows into our awareness, into our bodies-be it a gentle breeze
or lava from a volcano. These moments conflrm for me that this work is
unquestionablyin the service of somethingbeyond the present self, and
therefore quite related to the true meaning of the ancient Greek word
therapon, or sen)Ant, from which the word "therapy" is derived. We are
in service to a sacred unfolding of Self.
Proust, $ing on his deathbed, continued to scribble out his perceptions
upon fragments of paper. \Mhen he could no longer write, he dictated to
a devoted secretary. This he did in order to record the trace of his olrm
existence in time and memory, and to heal his spirit. By consequence, it
touches us too, because we do the same thing each time we lie dor,rrn on
the floor and flnd ourselves there. Like Proust and Feldenkrais, we too
must map the stories of our existence in relation to our own epoch, the
traces of ourselves through time, space, and embodiment. Proust's search
for lost time, like ours, requires confronting habit in a revelation of the Self.
Our search is the womb of the homunculus, a container of opposites, com-
prised of time, space, and memory, the seeds of the next, ever-changing
self. Connecting to this is time well found, transforming and emerging,
again and again.

Thanks to Tim Mcloraine and Dennis Leri for encouraging me to write this and to
George R. Elder for helping to amplify the voices and teaching me hou, to listen.

NOTES

Essa,ys on Analytical Psychology, Collected Worlcs, Princeton, N.J.:

r. C. G. Jung, i953, Trzo
Princeton University Press (Bollingen rr), r,o1. 7, para. 194, p. 115.
2. Am. Heritage Dict.Ed. s.

3.NlarcelProust, 1989, RemembranceofThingsPast,Swann's\'Vay,Vol. I.NewYork: Vin-

tage international: p. 5.

4.The _iua Nataraja, arrrajot Hindu deity, is said to create, perpetuate, and destroy the
universe t hrough his dancing.

s. Proust, p. 6-7.
6. Proust, p. 8.

t. Ibid.
B. Proust, p. B-9.
g. C. G. Iung, t953, Archetypes r.tf the Collectiue UnconsciotLs, CollectedWorts, Princeton,
N.J.: Princeton U. Press, Bollingen xx, vol. 9, para. 680, p. 373. Here Jung refers to the
homunculus (in Goethe's Faust) as a living syrnbol, and in its alchemical context as "the
figure shut up in the vessel (who) n ants to 'become'. " Further reflection on a comparison
between the "hard science" dehnition of hornLrn.cultLs and the deeper meaning of the
term-that is, the literal brain anatomy usage by Feldenkrais and its symbolic deflnition
and function in depth psycholog;,, as used by lung, and the overall application of these
to our r,vork, ma-v be of interest to some.

69
 THE FELDENKRAIS ]OURNAL NO. 17 SPRING 2OO4

70
SPRTNG 2OO4
MaryAzrael (Baltimore, lro.) is a poet, editor, and teacher
of creative nrriting, the autl-ror tr,vo books of poems and an
opera libretto, Lost Cltildhood, based on the mernoir of
Holocaust sun'ivor Yehuda Nir. Scenes fr:om the opera were
performed at Nerr-York City Opera's Shor,vcase of American
Composers. She co-edits Passager, a national literarl' jour-
na1 featr-rring older u.riters. She hopes Feldenkrais u,riters
rvill r,isit the Passagerrvebsite (http:/ /raven.ubalt.edu/ fea-
tures/passager/) and consider submitting poems, stories,
and memoru'pieces.
Adam Cole is a nriter and musician living in Atlanta rvith
his er.er-increasing family. 1n addition to having published
several articles and sholt stories, he has also.,vritten a novel
inspired by t1.re Feldenkrais Method called The M),th of
Magic, available bl.link at \111av.aco1e.net. Adam publishes
a monthlv ne\r.sletter and coiumn about the N{ethod on his
r,vebsite at ur'r,.vr..feldenkraisinfo.com. He is soon going back
to school to become a music educator.
Knorvn for his new music and multi-styled performances,
sa-xophonist Stephen Duke has premiered solo lvorks
thror-rghout North America and in Europe. The Nelr, York
Times describes his playing as having "golgeous tone . . .
supple fluidit-v." Duke's solo recordings can be heard on the
Sony/Columbia, Centaur, Capstone, and pnp labels.
Stephen Duke joined the taculq.at Northern Illinois Uni-
versit\r in rgBo, Professor of \,iusic and Distinguished
Research Prolessor. He is rvidely recognized for innovating
classical/jazz crossover performance pedagogv. He has
been certifled ir.r The Feldenkrais \'tethod since rggr.
Sylvie Fortin, Ph.D. is a professor in the Dance Department
of the Universit6 du Qu6bec ir N1[ontr6al. Her research inter-
ests focus on somatic education, research methodology,
and dance medicine. She has published numerous articles
in scientiflc journals and has presented her rvork at conf'er-
ences in Canada, England, United States, Australia, Ger-
many, Portugal, Brasil, Ner.r Zealand, and France. She is
currently responsible foI the development of a health cen-
ter for artists at the Universit6 du Qu6bec h Nlontr6al ar.rd
she just recei'n'ed a three-vear grant to direct a multidisci-
plinary research project on somatic education in dance and
health.
Pati Holman, San Ralael '93, has been resealching the rela-
tionship betu,een self-arvareness, movement, and Iearning,
first as a student of voga, then of Moshe's r'vork, since rg83.
She currentlv studies u.ith Ruthy Alon, as r,r'e11 as lvorld-
renou.ned ),oga teacher Dona Holleman in Northern Italy.
A vocalist as u-e11, Pati enjotrs involving herself in music
projects such as the recentl,v released co "Ragar-ri. Best
of BothWorlds" a compilation of East Indian IIindu ragas.
Pati has a prirrate practice and teaching schedule in Mil-
rvaukee, Wisconsin, rvhere she lives r,vith her husband and
family.
THE FELDENKRAIS JOURNAI- NO, 17
Contributors
Warwick Long, N{. Ph. Ed., is a Certif,ed Feldenkrais Practi-
tioner and holds a masters degree in ph,vsical education. In
his professional life as an educator, dancer, and choreogra-
pher, he teaches in tl-re dance programs at the Universitd
du Qu6bec d N'lontr6al and Concordia lJniversitl', Montreal
r,r,here his practice is focused on the integration of somatic
education and contemporarl. dance technique. Warrvick
has taught extensively in University and professional set-
tings in Australia, Brazil, Canada, Nert Zealand, London,
and NewYork and is currently preparing a nen perfor-
mance rvork in zoo4.
Mark Reese's interdisciplinary background inciudes psy-
chology and the performing arts. r\fter his rgzz graduation,
Mark did advanced stud-v r'vith N4oshe Feldenkrais in San
Francisco ar-rd Amherst, and on many trips to Tel-Aviv.
N{alk is one of the earliest and most experienced teacher-
trainers, having taught more than trvo thousand practition-
ers internationally since r983. For the past six years, Nlark
l-ras trar.eled rvorldrvide collectir-rg interviervs and doing
research for a comprehensive biography of Mosh6
Feldenkrais, due to be pubiished in May zoo5.
Louise Runyon has been a Feldenkrais plactitioner for four'
1,ears in Atlanta, Geolgia, and is a certifled Bones for Life'''
teacher. A dancer/choreographer since rgBo, she has com-
bined voice and movement extensivei-v in her artistic rvork.
She does rr u,ith manv performing artists, and is equally
interested in applr.ing lessons from the performing arts
to r'r,ork rvith the general public. Louise began her artistic
career rvriting poetry. Her i,vriting soon moved into creating
text for dance/theatre pieces, but poetry has recently
reemerged. She is active in the Atlanta poetry scene and is
about to publish Rebont, her flrst book of poems.
Tiffany Sankary is a visuai artist and teacher u,ho lives
in Oakland, California. She is in her second vear of the
Berkeley rv Feldenkrais Professional Trainirg Program.
Tiffany is interested in hou, the intimate self-knor,vledge
and transformation r,ve experience indir,.idually in the
N,lethod can be translated into the framer,vork of a larger
societal transformation. Her drarvings have been published
in r.arious magazines and jourr-rals including Tikkun Maga-
zine, TurningWheel, and Street Spirit. More of her rvork can
be found at: ua,\a,v.movementbuilding.org/ tiffan.v.
K-vle Lee Williams runs N{otion Parallax Studio, where
she teaches and promotes the Feldenklais Method in
\\tinnipeg. Her practice includes a rvide variety of students
including those r,r,ith r,rs and stroke. A fbrmer prof'essional
dancer, her published rvork includes poetry and scholarlv
essa_vs. She has taught comparative religion at several
universities in both the us and Canada, and is curlently
pursuing a PhD in medieval Hinduism and tantric studies
at the Universitv of Nlanitoba.
7t
THE FELDENKRAIS IOURNAL NO. 17 SPRI\G 200-1
 Editor: Elizabeth Beringer
Editorial Assistant: Elaine Yoder
Editorial Board: Elizabeth Beringer, Connie Butler, Isabel Ginot,
Carl Ginsberg, Pati Holman, Carol Kress,
Dolores Ransom, Gay Sweet Scott
Design: Margery Cantor
Proofreading
a copyediting: Tobias Bodine, Jan Hetherington,
Iudy Windt, Elaine Yoder
Cover art: Tiffany Sankary
t Interior art: Tiffany Sankary
Kaethe Zemach-Bersin, page 3

A.
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