This summer I’ve been studying the Alexander Technique, an educational process developed by New Zealander F. M. Alexander in the early 1900’s that teaches you how to release tension by sending messages to your body to undo unnecessary patterns of holding.
I’ve been pleasantly surprised to discover that Alexander’s idea of achieving greater freedom and ease of movement works also with more than just muscles, nerves and bones.
Looking for places in my body where I habitually store stress, it didn’t take long for me to discover what felt like a sizzling mass of hot wires in the back of my neck and left shoulder blade that appeared whenever I was provoked by an unpleasant sensation, e.g. sitting for a long period of time in summer traffic.
But it took a while to figure out where I stashed my emotional patterns of holding. When I heard myself sharing a painful situation in my life exactly the way I’d shared it for the last two years, I knew I’d hit paydirt.
I’ve heard it said, we never stand still, we either move ahead or fall back. Our outlook and choices either expand or they decline.
When the stories we tell about something difficult or disagreeable in our past don’t change over time, it’s a sign we’re reinforcing the narrow view we have of it. We’re digging deeper into the mud instead of trying to pull out of it, unconsciously choosing, just as we hold tension in our body, to stay stuck in our pain when with clear intent we can let go of it.
So recently when I became aware that I was dredging up an old pile of muck by re-telling for the umpteenth time the sad tale of a broken relationship, I asked myself, how could I have responded in a way that would serve me better? Does this story reflect how I see the world right now, and who I want to be? I realized that I was reciting a script I knew by heart, and it came from an unnecessary pattern of holding, just like the ache in my shoulder.
A half dozen years ago, during a course with Margaret Wheatley, I witnessed a powerful example of bringing yourself up-to-date which has stayed with me.
During a Q&A period, a participant vigorously disagreed with one of Ms. Wheatley’s conclusions and defended his argument by quoting from a book she had written earlier. After listening respectfully, she simply said, “I no longer think that way.”
Wow! What a concept! She had given herself permission to evolve in her thinking.
This was not flip-flopping, attempting to curry favor with someone or exploit a political crosswind, but an authentic change in perspective based on reflection. Choosing to re-examine one’s story is an act of leadership, whether it’s about a professional point of view or a personal situation.
In his book, Infectious, Achim Nowak tells how one high-level corporate executive talks to her professional colleagues about her daughter, a quadriplegic who requires 24/7 care.
“Within her business culture, which tends to value a traditional family narrative, [the executive] talks just as freely about how she co-parents [her daughter] with her ex-husband.” And she neither edits out the messy parts, nor solicits sympathy. He calls her story a “considered narrative.”
That’s exactly what one of my clients, who has been looking for work for a long time, shared with me about over breakfast when he said, “I’m filling the gap in my corporate expertise by getting a certification valued in the agency world.”
By investing in his own growth he is creating a new story with forward (“This is the future I’m preparing for”) rather than backward (“This is what I used to do at XYZ Company”) energy. He’s not only bringing himself up-to-date with an additional credential, he’s taking the more powerful stance of self-leadership.
I’ve heard it said, we never stand still, we either move ahead or fall back. Our outlook and choices either expand or they decline.
When we seek new information and insights and stay open to using what we discover to revise our stories, we begin to undo patterns of holding that restrict our freedom to move forward with ease.
Dear Bev,
As usual you seem to read my mind about something that has been drifting in and out without a resting place. Now I can put to bed why old stories seem to change i.e. the perspective I have has changed. Thanks for all you do for so many of us that need a resting place for our thoughts. Coming to a clear understanding about how and why we are is so helpful to a lot of us.
Regards,
Lisa P
@Lisa Panaccione, I love the image of having a resting place for our thoughts. Thank you for sharing it. Bev
Hi Bev,
I had just been speaking to someone about the Alexander Technique, and your article reminded me that I wanted to do a little more research on the topic. As always, you never fail to hit on something that resonates. Your writing never fails to be relevant to me! Happy Summer! Sherri
I knew nothing about this practice, but hearing it mentioned three times in the same week got my attention. So does having a reader and friend who finds what I write helpful. Thank for commenting. Bev
Profound, and “shake me up” information – especially when I’ve just begun to recognize how often my recollections come out word-for-word when I share them with someone else. Also there is an “aha moment” about storing those experiences in our body. Time to look into this further.
Thanks you so much for placing this on the table, Bev.
Joan
@Joan Willis, Thank you for commenting.
Comment from a dear friend and mentor
Your current newsletter is right on target and makes so much sense. I think that now that I have accepted my aging process and physical limitations and do not dwell on what I used to be able to do, I am so much more relaxed. I notice that I have more consistent energy. The body is a wonderful barometer for how we are. Janis
Thank you Bev, for this lovely post. The connections you made between patterns of tension and patterns of thinking are what makes the Alexander Technique such a profound practice. With your sophisticated understanding of emotional and spiritual work, the newer practices of the physical work can be integrated that much deeper.