Clear Communication of Complex Concepts

So—I’m trying to put some words in line for a Youtube Shorts video:

“When you bring your legs together, so that they eventually touch at the knees and heels and big toes, your adductor muscles are shortening as they generate force to move your legs inward. This is called a concentric contraction.”

Youtube Shorts. The less words the better. I will show myself resting in a supine position, on my back, with my legs extended and spread. Since I’m visible in this position, I will not mention the starting position.

Still, my paragraph sounds like a bit too much to swallow, considering that there are 4 more such paragraphs. I try to cut it down:

“When you move your legs toward each other until they eventually touch, this muscular action is called a concentric contraction.”

I used my own brain and expertise for what I want to say, what I deem important and want to keep, what I find aesthetically pleasing, and what needs to go. I merely used ChatGPT to help me with the grammar and orthography, for which it works absolutely great. It’s a bit like using a Zeiss zoom lens as a paperweight.

1 hour later. I finished the remaining text, now it’s 6 paragraphs altogether. Really looking forward to film this later today.

Fool me once…

I was maybe six years old when I discovered the red-hot glowing cigarette lighter in my dad’s sedan. Come to think of it, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, here in Austria, most cars had cigarette lighters built in, right next to the in-car radio in the center console—to make it more convenient to light a cigarette while driving. Which sounds absolutely nuts from a 2024 perspective.

So, I found out about this device on a family trip to Italy or somewhere, and I discovered it before my younger brother did. Then I did something that I still can’t quite make sense of, even today: I abused my younger brother’s total trust in me by talking him into touching the red-hot glowing tip of the cigarette lighter with his pointer finger, reassuring him that it would not hurt.

As expected, I had a split second of feeling victorious, then a short, good laugh, and then the realization that I had wronged him, followed by deep regret. Thinking back, maybe there’s a standard sequence of feelings to this kind of action, much like the Kübler-Ross model, also known as the five stages of grief: first denial, then anger, bargaining, depression, and finally—if ever—acceptance.

I still deeply regret tricking my brother into touching that cigarette lighter. For two reasons:

1. This lesson—that we will be disappointed or betrayed by people we love and trust—is one we will have to learn several times throughout our lives. But it saddens me that my younger brother had his first encounter with this bitter lesson at such a young age, and from me, his trusted older brother, of all people.

2. From that point onwards, I felt that the trust between him and me was never the same. Because of this one, stupid thing. So that was a big loss I had to deal with myself. Maybe that’s another one of life’s non-negotiable, hard lessons.

I wonder, why did I do that? Do we all do such things? Are all people like this? Or just a few? Is it built into our child-rearing? Was it in my upbringing?

Thinking of it, I recall that my dad did similar things to me. For example, around that time, when I was maybe 6 or 8 years old, he took me along to play football with his friends. Afterwards, they were standing around the trunk of his car, which had a duffle bag containing two bottles of water in it. In front of his friends, my dad pulled one bottle out, opened it, and offered it to me to drink. I remember that the adults around me started to chuckle and giggle, which I didn’t comprehend why. But I was thirsty after all that football playing, so I had a good swig. It wasn’t water. It burned in my mouth; I had to spit it out and cough. Much later I learned that it was schnapps, a clear, high-alcohol liquor. They all had a good laugh, and my dad, quite contently, took the bottle from my hands and put it back into the trunk. I don’t think he had the same feelings of regret that I had towards my younger brother in the cigarette lighter incident.

Why do we do that? Is this a learned behavior we pass on from generation to generation? Is it because we got hurt as children but had no way of getting even, and therefore do these kinds of compensatory, stupid things to everyone within our reach? Unknowingly, unconsciously, like robots acting out programs? Again and again, without ever getting even?

Well, I do hope I broke that cycle, at least within my psyche, my body, my life. From that cigarette lighter incident onwards, I ran into the same “program” a couple more times, but I feel it had less and less control over me as such things happened less and less severely, and less and less often.

The last “big” incident that I noticed was again with my younger brother, some 15 years ago or so. He suffered from knee pain, and as (bad) luck would have it, I saw a fitness trainer on YouTube demonstrate a knee exercise that he claimed would fix any knee pain. You know how well they come across, these super-fit-looking, young fitness trainers on YouTube with their big smiles, groomed eyebrows, perfect teeth, perfect hair, authoritative voices and positive attitudes—I trusted that guy for no real reason. At that time, I was already a Feldenkrais teacher, but I did not have sufficient experience and knowledge in the field of functional fitness training. So, I went straight to recommending this exercise to my brother, and promptly his knees hurt even more than before, and lastingly so. Ouch.

On the upside, I think those unpleasant experiences made me a better teacher. Nowadays, I’m extra, extra careful when making suggestions or showing exercises myself. Usually, I only film and share lessons that are tried and tested, that I’ve already done sufficiently often myself and with clients, that I understand well, and I am sure they do good and have little in them that could cause harm.

In my work, including my Youtube channel, you will not see excessively big claims, marketing talk, power talk, or attempts to pep you into doing something you might regret later. And this, again, is for the same two reasons I’ve learned with my younger brother:

1. It’s for your won good, my priority is to keep you safe and provide conditions for moving and learning that I believe, and hope, will make you feel better. When clients come to see me they trust me. At no point do I want to comprise that trust.

2. It’s for my own good, I do depend on your well-being and getting better, and in turn I do depend on your support. At no point do I want to comprise that relationship.

In this sense, I wish you a great day and happy moving and rolling about to my movement instructions! :)

Feldenkrais lessons, a definition

I write something, then I paste it into ChatGPT to touch up the grammar and sentence structure. Then I rewrite it again, and again. Then I find all that boring, too technical, too bland and too uninspiring. I start the whole thing from scratch, again, from a personal perspective. Then I have that cleaned up again, which in turn I need to clean up again. Finally we end up with something worthwhile.

A first writing

A teaching practice inspired by Moshé Feldenkrais and the Feldenkrais Method is grounded in principles of neuroplasticity and biomechanics, as well as knowledge of anatomy, psychology, kinesiology, functional movement science, and related fields. It relies on observable and measurable changes in movement and posture, using the practitioner’s expertise to guide interventions.

In Feldenkrais and related methods, practitioners observe movements and physical restrictions to form hypotheses about potential issues, shortcomings, and areas for improvement. These hypotheses are tested through gentle, well-sequenced movements, along with tactile and verbal cues and questions, to assess improvement in function and comfort.

The process involves continuous feedback from the client. Practitioners inquire about sensations, feelings, and understanding through tactile and verbal communication, ensuring a responsive and adaptive approach to enhance movement and well-being.

What are the principles?

Principles for designing Feldenkrais-inspired movement strategies and sequences might include, but are not limited to

  • reciprocal inhibition,
  • activation and warm-up,
  • exercises to improve proprioception and sensory awareness,
  • reversal of distal and proximal movement initiation as well as other variations regarding the location of movement initiation,
  • movement differentiation,
  • establishing movement patterns such as counterbalancing of arms and legs,
  • establishing patterns for everyday movements such as turning, sitting up, lying down and improving the efficiency thereof,
  • variations in the intensity and trajectory of pressure in pulling and pushing to find, demonstrate and learn the best and worst pathways, and everything in between,
  • effort substitution,

All that but shorter

A teaching practice inspired by Moshé Feldenkrais and the Feldenkrais Method leverages principles of neuroplasticity and biomechanics to improve movement and posture. This method is rooted in an understanding of anatomy, psychology, kinesiology, pedagogy, and functional movement science. Practitioners observe movements to form hypotheses that are tested—as well as improved—through gentle, well-sequenced movements.

These interventions use tactile and verbal cues, and continuous client feedback. Key principles include reciprocal inhibition, movement differentiation, and the improvement of everyday movements.


A Feldenkrais-inspired teaching practice uses gentle, guided movements to improve your posture, coordination, and everyday activities. Practitioners observe your movements, provide personalized feedback, and help you overcome physical restrictions for better overall well-being.


Feldenkrais-inspired teaching uses gentle movement and personalised feedback to improve how we hold, perceive and guide ourselves in everyday activities.

In 2 tags

  • Neuroplasticity-based Movement Practice
  • Integrated Somatic Approach

Ok, Figure It Out, how do I experience Feldenkrais classes?

It’s either about movement, or about sensing something. It’s not strenuous, and usually clever, surprising, intelligent, gentle. It can be boring, but it can also be super interesting. I like the kind of lesson that helps me discover something interesting about myself, something that I didn’t know yet, or something that I’ve forgotten, and which is engaging and feels good to explore, and afterwards provides a feeling of more freedom, range of movement, or smoothness. Lighter, more upright, inspired.

A refined version

Feldenkrais-inspired lessons focus on movement and sensory awareness. They are gentle and resourceful, often surprising and not strenuous. While some may find them boring, they can also be deeply engaging and facilitate discoveries about oneself and one’s abilities. These lessons feel good to explore and typically result in a perceived increase in range of motion, ease of movement, a more upright posture, and a sense of lightness and inspiration.

On being one’s true self

In an interview between William Coulson and Linda Ames Nicolosi, titled “Reflections on the Human 
Potential Movement,” published in the Journal of Marital and Family Therapy (JMFT) in December 2000, William Coulson said about Carl Rogers:

“Rogers’ books gave voice to something that was already brewing in the culture at that time. In his 1961 book, On Becoming a Person, he wrote a chapter called, »To Be That Self Which One Truly Is.« [..] He was a onetime American Psychological Association president, and he received the APA’s first Distinguished Scientific Contribution Award. He was a weighty authority, and he wrote persuasively. Behavior that would have been confronted by the previous generation as shameful now became obligatory—according to Rogers’ creed, »One must be that self which one truly is.«” —William Coulson

The Human Potential Movement. I was born at the end of it, in 1974, but still, my feet were touched by the dissipating wave as it gently rolled back into the ocean. As a kid this movement gave me much food for thought. 40 years ago the Western world was safer, or more unconcerned, and we kids used to walk home from school, or go by bicycle, bus, hitchhiking, whatever, nobody was in fear for it. One or two or more hours of unaccounted time, Monday through Saturday. Sunday was our parents’s day off, anyways. Lots of time to stroll around the fields with its high grass, hundreds of types of weed and flowers, grasshoppers, ladybirds and many other insects. Time to explore the forest, look for what’s new at the creek running down the foot of the mountain. Time in nature, time for self-reflection, and reflection about the world around us.

In these days I often got thinking about people and why they say what they say, do what they do. For example, some of the other kids in school started using words like “ego”, “cool” and “gay.” Like most kids, I didn’t know what that meant. But I, too, tried to find use for these words and see how grown-ups reacted. “Don’t be doing such gay work!” I once called out towards my father, he was working in the garden on a hot summer’s day. He was genuinely upset about that for days on end, and it took me another decade or so to find out about the bad connotation of that word. But in truth… I still don’t know why he was so upset.

Then, a few years later, the New Age wave hit the countryside. A seemingly never-ending stream of enlightened gurus came from all over the world to share their higher states of consciousness in town halls filled to the brim with students,  and charge real money, in both size and physicality, for one-on-one spiritual readings and partnership advice.

At that time I heard words like true self, higher self, lower self, authentic self, false self, bilocation, infidelity, promiscuity and enlightenment… an eclectic mix of helpful tools, fantastic stories and selling-out of various Indian Paramahansas, but also of Western influencers like Louise L. Hay, Eckhart Tolle, Richard Bach, Dan Millman, Esther Hicks, Carlos Castaneda, Leonard Orr… I guess the Goodreads list of New Age Books or the Wikipedia page of New Age makes for a nice walk down the old memory lane.

At that time we people were still searching, for something… something authentic, true, uncorrupted, pure, original, for That Self Which One Truly Is, as Carl Rogers promised. Or, “sold” I might say in hindsight. The New Age, too, is now in the past, and forever imprinted in our Western souls and bodies. And I’m still not sure what that really means, practically.

As I wrote in my previous blog post, titled “Why children become liars and toadies”, I wrote that by the time we finish compulsory schooling we all went through more than 10,000 hours of humiliation and suppression. I quote:

“In school, we spend well over ten thousand hours of having to sit still and be quiet, don’t move, don’t eat, don’t drink, ask to be allowed to go to the toilet, don’t have critical thoughts, read only from the poorly written, heavily censored and haphazardly formatted books that were pre-selected for us, and listen to whatever is presented, by whomever, however badly, yet stay alert and respond to arbitrary questions when addressed, in exactly the way expected.” — Alfons Grabher

There was no choice about it, no choice at all. Either comply, sit through it, or… what? Become drug addicts and child-sex-workers, “We Children from Bahnhof Zoo”? Was that the alternative?

There was no choice, we had to go through compulsory, institutional schooling. Not to mention the dire environment of it. For example, the school I had to go to was constructed in exposed concrete, with long, empty corridors. Everything was cold and hard, similar to socialist-style government buildings, or state prisons. The entrance area for students was underground, badly lit, and divided into cells made of metal bars and mesh. No teacher ever went down there. It seemed like teachers were of a higher status or something, yet one teacher was more miserable and strained looking than the next. And this was supposedly one of the best schools in our federal state.

Nobody of weight and importance seems to be talking about this. People talk about war, gender, abortion, toxic parents, geo-engineering, meat, paper straws and climate change, all difficult topics, but not this. Sure, they have endless talks about school reforms and school improvements, budget and safety—but none of this matters, we don’t heal. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s because of our extensive 10,000+ hours training in self-alianation, lack-of-compassion, deception and self-deception, self-deprecation and making fun of others, you name it, the entire seed bank of evil.

“Abraham Maslow [an American psychologist best known for his theory of human motivation and the hierarchy of needs] condemned Carl Rogers’ idea that we should follow our feelings whether they were right or wrong. Maslow had caught on to the fact that this idea of the human potential movement was a civilization-destroying concept. It failed to understand the reality of evil in human life.” —William Coulson

I don’t think we’re ever going to solve any of these psychological riddles, or dire conditions that plague our societies as a whole, as long as we don’t allow ourselves to look at what has been done to us in school. We need a reckoning. A process of introspection, reflection, and coming to terms with these past experiences, emotions, and traumas.

And then do something about it. Only when we allow ourselves to acknowledge and confront and act upon the difficult truths of what happened to us in institutional schooling will we achieve healing and reconciliation; in body and soul; and become able to live out of motives that are not influenced by the evil seeds planted during our time in institutional schooling. And maybe this will give us reasonable hope for a better future, instead of fear and uncertainty. If that seems something worthwhile having.

How children become liars and toadies

John Taylor Gatto, in his book “Dumbing Us Down,” delves into the topic of compulsory schooling:

“Children learn what they live. Put kids in a class and they will live out their lives in an invisible cage, isolated from their chance at community; interrupt kids with bells and horns all the time and they will learn that nothing is important; force them to plead for the natural right to the toilet and they will become liars and toadies; ridicule them and they will retreat from human association; shame them and they will find a hundred ways to get even.”

This is one of the quotes that stick with me forever, it seems like. To me, John Taylor Gatto is one of the most brilliant, incorruptible speakers for humanity. He was born in his beloved Monongahela, Pennsylvania, US, lived from 1935 to 2018. For the longest part of his life he was celebrated for his achievements as a school teacher, was honoured as New York City & New York State Teacher of the Year, several times… and then shunned by the establishment, as soon as he turned on them. He died penniless, as far as I know. He tells about this turn in Chapter 4, “I Quit, I Think,” in his book “The Underground History Of American Education.” He barely got it published, lack of funding.

Contrariwise, just for example, Kevin Simler and Robin Hanson played it by the book and wrote the much acclaimed international bestseller “The Elephant in the Brain: Hidden Motives in Everyday Life.” The promotional text says:

“Our brains are designed to help us get ahead socially, often via deception and self-deception. But while we may be self-interested schemers, we benefit by pretending otherwise. Our unconscious motives drive more than just our private behaviour; they also infect our venerated social institutions such as school.”

From my perspective, this turns a blind eye on one key aspect: It didn’t infect schools. According to John Taylor Gatto schools are designed to teach deception and self-deception. But of course, who’d dare to say that part out loud? Apparently not Robin Hanson, who has tenure. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” is not just cautionary advice but more like Survival 101. Despite the widespread acclaim for the book, many reviewers noted the absence of a solid explanation or scientific foundation for its claims, leaving readers without actionable suggestions or guidance. And for good reason.

Looking at the originator of my own field of expertise, Moshé Feldenkrais, he too spoke extensively about dependency relationships, their origins and persistence, and called it childish in adults. But Moshé Feldenkrais fell short, too, and like most thought leaders, even today, he looked for the elephant only within the family, or was waving his fist of Goethe’s Prometheus against society as a whole.

As I understand, Moshé Feldenkrais’s early years were marked by unstable political situations and adventures, frequently moving houses, and focused studying, but there was little of compulsory, large-scale, institutional schooling. And even though he earned a diploma at an engineering school in Paris, France, around 1930 at age 26, in sum total, as I understand, he just didn’t do enough years in institutional schooling to have been able to say anything of substance against it; he lacked those emotional wounds and the humiliation, the thousands of hours of having to sit still and shut up, don’t move, don’t eat, don’t drink, don’t have critical thoughts, read only from the poorly written, heavily censored and haphazardly formatted books that were pre-selected for you, and listen to whatever was presented, by whomever, however badly, yet stay alert and respond to arbitrary questions when addressed, in exactly the way expected. Actually, well over 10,000 hours of that in your first 12 years of basic education. How do you remember that time of your life? Did you frame that as a pleasant, carefree, happy time? And filed it away into the darkest corner of your body & soul, to never be bothered again? After all, it wasn’t all that bad?

As I understand, Moshé Feldenkrais didn’t have to live through that. Mark Reese’s Biography on Moshé Feldenkrais, “A Life In Movement” describes a day at school like this (heder is a traditional Jewish school):

“In the morning I wake up, wash, get dressed, go over my homework to remember it well. Then I drink a cup of tea and go to the heder. The teacher has not yet arrived, and I review the homework for the third time. When we see the teacher coming, all the boys immediately sit down around the table. During the lesson there is silence. But there is one boy that tells a joke or makes a face and all the boys laugh. Then there is a very short break. We hardly get to take a book in our hands and the break is over. When I come home, I read in the book for half an hour. Then I do my homework for about three or four hours. The oral homework I leave for the evening. At the sixth hour all the boys who study with the same teacher get together and we go into the woods. When we are between the tall bushes I stand still and look at the sky like a dreamer. I dream pleasant dreams. When I return I drink tea or read or chat a little and then go to sleep.”

They sat around a table. No dark, airless corridors. No cell-like rooms with chairs in rows where students, as well as their assigned teachers, were confined to from one ring of the bell to the next. None of the ordinary madness we call good schooling. Good for him, good for us.

“America’s first national commissioner of education, eminent Hegelian scholar William Torrey Harris, said in a long essay in 1906 entitled »The Philosophy of Education,« that a prime purpose of the new institutional schooling was to teach self-alienation, and that this could be best accomplished in dark, airless corridors. It never fails to amaze me how people can hear words like that — and the school trail is littered with them — and ignore them, as if they were only idle talk.” – John Taylor Gatto, Weapons Of Mass Instruction

Regarding the twist on the metaphor “the elephant in the room”, The Elephant In The Brain, there’s no need to point fingers at Kevin Simler and Robin Hanson, or any other such thought leaders. They’ve been out on their profitable safari since their early school days, and we don’t know if they’ll ever want to find their way back. John Taylor Gatto warned us, compassionately. He laid it all out, the entire history of compulsory, institutional schooling and where it’s heading, and even included a roadmap for a way out. It’s just… we don’t listen. We’re too busy ignoring the elephant in the brain. Or maybe, considering how strongly these issues captivate our attention, I might suggest to inverse the metaphor, akin to the biblical cautionary tale of the golden calf, and call it The Golden Calf In The Brain.

In the past 6 decades (or so) people have come to accept looking at their childhood and their relationship with their parents, if necessary; maybe change their own attitude and behaviour accordingly, or maybe even establish strong boundaries. But institutional schooling? A textbook case of a blind spot. 200+ years ago the state still had to take children from their parents at gun point in order to tear the traditional family structure apart and put children through the schooling system. How times have changed, haven’t they? Nowadays parents will sue if schools refuse to process their children for them.

Well, what can I say. Maybe I could end today’s blog post on a quote by Charles Bukowski, from his novel “Pulp.” The main character, Nick Belane, best dick in L.A., seemed to be able to maintain a level head in the face of existential challenges and uncertainties of the modern world. I quote Chapter 40, back at his office:

“So, there I was the next day, back at my office. One assignment left: locate the Red Sparrow. Nobody was beating at my door with new work for me to do. That was fine. It was a time for a tabulation, a tabulation of myself. All in all, I had pretty much done what I had set out to do in life. I had made some good moves. I wasn’t sleeping on the streets at night. Of course, there were a lot of good people sleeping in the streets. They weren’t fools, they just didn’t fit into the needed machinery of the moment. And those needs kept altering. It was a grim set-up and if you found yourself sleeping in your own bed at night, that alone was a precious victory over the forces.”

Asking AI to help me understand a Feldenkrais lesson

For a challenging to understand movement instruction, let’s look at the beginning of Feldenkrais lesson AY #541, “Inverting hands including more.” This lesson involves movements of the arms, hands, and shoulders/shoulder-blades, and will be increasing body awareness, flexibility, and comfort in these areas.

According to the Copyright Information on the IFF (International Feldenkrais Federation) website, the IFF does not allow for quoting any of their original Feldenkrais materials to any length outside of private study groups and non-profit purposes, not even under Fair Use (to their own demise, I might suspect.) Therefore I paraphrase:

Sit comfortably in a cross-legged position, adopting an Eastern-style posture. Gradually, and with ease, begin turning your left arm inward between your legs, ensuring it feels comfortable and enjoyable. Repeat this gentle rotation of the entire left arm multiple times, aiming to eventually have the palm facing upward towards the ceiling. Allow your shoulder to participate in the turning motion, and let your body move naturally along with it. Once done, rest by lying on your back.

My paraphrasing is about as complete as the original, you wouldn’t find any additional cues or information. In the original class some students might have started with some movements to their understanding, and then all other students might have picked up, and since Moshé Feldenkrais didn’t object (as per the transcript) it might have been the movement he had in mind, and the class proceeded.

However, without the context of a live class, it might not be quite as clear what to do. All we know for sure is that Feldenkrais lessons are full of surprises and unusual movements. Or as Carlos Castaneda wrote, “non-ordinary states of consciousness,” which in the context of Feldenkrais classes might be “non-ordinary movements.”

I asked Brave’s AI Leo (based on Mixtral 8x7B), after having given it the original instructions: Turning my left arm inward, does this mean my elbow is starting to face the ceiling?

Leo: No, when the text says to “turn the whole left arm slowly many times with the intention to turn the palm of the hand toward the ceiling,” it does not mean to orient the elbow towards the ceiling. Instead, it is asking you to lift your entire left arm and rotate it slowly in a way that orients the back of your left hand towards the floor and the palm of your hand towards the ceiling. 

I then asked ChatGPT (3.5 free version) the exact same question: Turning my left arm inward, does this mean my elbow is starting to face the ceiling?

ChatGPT: Yes, when you’re turning your left arm inward, it involves a rotation that starts from the shoulder joint and extends down to the hand. Picture your shoulder as the pivot point for the rotation. As you start to turn your left arm inward, your shoulder will rotate inwards slightly, which means your elbow will start to move away from your body and begin to face upwards, towards the ceiling.

Note taken. Ask ChatGPT and not Leo. If this is indeed the right motion will show in the rest of the lesson.

If a movement is not clear in a Feldenkrais lesson then we wait for more instructions, or look at the lesson in its entirety. A Feldenkrais lesson is not like an original patchwork quilt, where various, diverse, unrelated patches of fabric are sewn together to make full use of leftover scraps of fabric. Instead, Feldenkrais lessons are an intricate weaving of the same silk and fine materials with a detailed, rich pattern that becomes easily identifiable when looked at it from a distance, in context of a person’s whole self.

Only occasionally we have to take more steps back and look at a challenging to understand part in the context of a lesson series. It’s a bit like life, really, sometimes we need some distance in order to understand something.

Why am I doing this to myself?

Today I had a lovely chat with a fellow Feldenkrais enthusiast. At some point she was sharing with me her experience of a time where she had some knee (?) pain, and upon rolling about with a Feldenkrais lesson (?) her knee pain resolved, but then she had shoulder pain. I’m sorry I can’t recall the exact details. But we were talking about this in the context of anxiety, body posture and what I clearly remember was that she was talking to her painful shoulder and she asked herself, “Why am I doing this to myself?”

And while we were talking I didn’t think too deeply about it, at first, because I’ve been through so many philosophies, approaches and theories and books and courses already, and thousands and thousands of hours of Feldenkrais in both teaching and self-study and so forth, and been there, worked with that, at first at least that sentence of hers kinda fell into “the long tail.” Or into a Chinese post office kind of situation.

But while I was walking to the coffee shop I’m in right now and writing this, I was shouldering my messenger bag and could feel that old skiing accident in my lower back, which probably wasn’t an accident, and in fact 30 years later why do I still have that pain, there must be something I’m doing to keep that pain or keep recreating this injury, or at least I must do something so that that injury is not getting better, like ever, and clearly it’s neither the bad weather conditions from that painful day 30 years ago, nor my idiotic jump onto an icy patch on the downhill skiing slope, it must be something I’m still doing, and I too asked myself “Why am I doing this to myself?”

And it sounded like a good question. What am I doing to maintain that structural damage, that lower back area that was confirmed to be progressively messed up by X-Ray decades ago, why is it not healing up, what am I doing? How, in a kinestetic-biomechanical sense, but now more importantly in my topic of today type of question: WHY in a metaphysical, philosophical, somato-dings… psychosomatic, kind of sense, What is wrong with me? Why am I doing this to myself? “Really, quoi?”