STUDY WITH ALFONS

It was one of those headaches that befall every coffee lover. The morning coffee is delayed because of an urgent meeting or the secret Nespresso emergency stash was silently emptied by someone else—or maybe you missed it altogether. Maybe you drink it two hours late, or maybe you drink it on time but your usual blend wasn’t available. When it happens to you it’s a national tragedy—Why isn’t the Department of Health all over this? you wonder.

I wonder: „What are the elements of a successful first paragraph?” Is there a formula to it? And while we may look at the best for inspiration, what are the ethics involved? What passes as „inspired by” and after what point would readers send a copycat straight to hell?

“It was one of those headaches that befall every airline passenger. A flight is delayed because of thunderstorms or backed-up traffic—or maybe it’s canceled altogether. Maybe you board two hours late, or maybe you board on time and spend the next two hours sitting on the runway. When it happens to you it’s a national tragedy—Why aren’t the papers reporting this? you wonder.” – excerpt from David Sedaris, “Let’s Explore Diabetes With Owls”, from the essay ”Standing By”

Frank Smith starts his book „Understanding Reading” with two highly contrary quotes from two professors at university schools of education, experts in the field, with access to the same professional literature and with the same professional concerns. I quote abridged:

Reviewer 1: „Frank Smith’s research is a straightforward, compelling presentation of approaches to reading and writing that are meaningful and salient to children.”

Reviewer 2: „Either the author is not familiar with the current research literature, or he deliberately avoids citing evidence that is contrary to his point of view. This book is a recipe for disaster.”

Hear, hear, reviewer 2. I’ve read about this breed of negative passion before. But it was not about education, politics, financial interests, or people passionately sabotaging each other on the grounds of, because they believe in, two dissimilar invisible, inorganic, mute deities. It was in a flyer about the dangers of dairy, which someone passed to me in elementary school. I was around 10 years old. I shelved the text, not knowing what to make of it. Why the strong language? Took me two decades to find out what it meant.

The first time I’ve become aware of the impact of this harsh, hostile type of criticism, opposition really, was in a book called „Atemheilkunst”, by Dr. Johannes Schmitt. I found it when I was 14 years old, or 16; The year was 1988, something like that. I realised that there’s a deep chasm in society. Always has been. How can anyone not have been aware of it all the way into his early teens? I really did grow up in the forests on a mountain.

Dr. Schmitt’s „Atemheilkunst” was the only serious book on the science of breathing I could find. A heavy brick of a compendium, encompassing 656 pages, published in 1959. The book presented the then state-of-the-art medical research about the mechanics of breathing, as well as the effects on posture, performance, hormonal balance, emotional health, and how various breathing techniques can be used to

1. Manage and even reverse severe scoliosis and deformities of the spine and chest,
2. Improve performance in sports and fine arts.

There was one chapter dedicated to research in schools, and how prolonged, slouched sitting severely handicaps breathing and posture, and thus causes lasting physical harm to children. It had several chapters on the history of breathing practises in various cultures, and religion. Certainly one of the top most interesting and eye-opening books I’ve read as a teenager.

Dr. Johannes Schmitt didn’t have it easy. During the Third Reich Dr. Schmitt became victim of an attempted assassination; in 1934 he was arrested and expropriated of his clinic in Munich, Germany. From 1941 onwards he was imprisoned in the concentration camp Sachsenhausen for several years. After the end of the war, Schmitt won his clinic back against the resistance of the provisional city administration of Munich. As head of the clinic, he further developed his breathing massage, breathing gymnastics, and in his breathing therapy. Ultimately, he ran his clinic with great success until his passing in 1963.

Dr. Schmitt received a lot of negativity and opposition during the making of his book. In the previous century the contrary views and ideas on „how to breath correctly” and „how to teach breathing” and „what can and cannot be achieved with breathing” spurred heated, hostile discussions amongst professionals and laymen alike.

I don’t have the physical book around me anymore to quote you the exact details, but recalling from my memory Dr. Schmitt testified in his foreword: he had almost finished writing his book, when his apartment burnt down; the fire destroyed the script. If something severe like that would have happened to me, I guess I would have called it the end-of-an-area and moved on to another profession; plus, for a change of air, relocated to another country. Probably would have started wearing a Groucho Marx-like moustache and cargo pants – just to make myself laugh more often. Dr. Schmitt, however, who survived imprisonment by the Nazis, started again from scratch. He wrote the whole book again. 656 pages on the science of breathing. And finally got it published in 1959.

Doesn’t this blow your mind, too? Believe it or not, in the past people got that passionate on the topic of „breathing”. I’m not even talking about religion or politics. Or maybe, „breathing” IS religion and politics.

Nowadays, when I look at the millions and millions and millions of views neuroscientist Dr. Andrew Huberman gets on Youtube on his speeches about breathing and its influence on mood and hormones, or if I think about the teachings of iceman Wim Hoff in this regard, I assume „breathing” still is a very hot topic.

But actually, what I’m on about in today’s blog post is not the topic of breathing, but the chasm in society. The passionate, open aggression towards other people and their viewpoints, and the defence of oneself, and one’s own viewpoints, with no inclination towards reconciliation. Over some topic. It is not limited to or safely contained in „a few uneducated savages fighting over their totems”, as one might hope. Aggression might errupt over any topic that is dear to anyone’s heart. This behaviour is woven into the human soul, just like a jolly old fungal organism is woven into the forest soil.

Tomorrow I’ll find something better.

If I would be a Physical Therapist… and had to design a movement based training program… I would either start with solutions to common problems, or more systematically with child developmental patterns. 

Flexion. Extension. Rotation.

I would look at early childhood reflexes: the asymmetrical tonic neck reflex, the righting reflex, the withdrawal reflex, postures and responses to the fear of falling. And then progress to lessons that bring students up to sitting, standing, walking. I would certainly also look at object manipulation and handling. Walk along the lines of Occupational Therapy. I would probably have reading, writing, and anatomy on the curriculum as well.

But I am no Physical Therapist. 

I would not design a training program like that. And I would certainly not start with sucking-like-a-baby or several days of curling-up-like-a-hedgehog lessons.

Instead.

I would probably start with focusing on abilities. And how to improve the seemingly un-improvable. I would – probably – start with the ability to sense the pull of gravity. Explore deeply what we’re working with, here on Earth, as upright walking mammals with a head that’s sticking out of the torso, arms, legs, bones, the ability to feel, improve, fall and rise again, and all that.

I would start on the floor. I would – probably – start with rolling from side-lying to lying on the back. And the other way round. And, the other way round. A roll over, not a push over. Staying as close to the floor as possible, at first. Postpone reach-ups to a later date. Start with rolling the eyes, the head, or start with rolling one leg, bending one knee. Or start with reaching like a skeleton, but in side-lying. I can think of 20+ different lessons from the top of my head.

I would work-in moments for improving the ability to sense, put-that-into-words, judge, and improve orientation, timing, movement quality, how things connect and don’t connect. Experience how the use of one shoulder, one leg, one arm, one side is as different from the other, just as our use of one hand is different from the other (right handed, left handed). And all that.

This is the best part: these lessons are surprisingly easy to do, the positions and movements available to almost everyone. They do feel extraordinarily good, and they leave you feeling extraordinarily well. Curious. I have learned something. I want more. Not only physically. These moments also give us a feeling of being acknowledged as individuals, respected, and being in the right place. 

Plus, it immediately gives students something interesting, fun, engaging, to work with. A movement progression, growing in subject matter as well as difficulty. Something to practice at home. Something to get better at. They might even want to share what they’ve just learned with their own folks, or their own students.

In fact, creating own versions of the lessons, sharing them, and talking about them would be part of the curriculum.

That’s how I would start.

„Wolf Haas is an Austrian writer. He is known for his crime fiction novels, four of which were made into films. He has won several prizes for his works, including the German prize for crime fiction.”– Wolf Haas’s page on Wikipedia

„Wolf Haas attributes his success to the unique way he tells his stories, rather than the stories themselves. ” – Study of Silentium, Master of Art Thesis by Paul Geisler

„In the first novel, I was so occupied by this newly discovered language that I didn’t really care about the plot. With each subsequent book, I’ve paid a little more attention to it. As far as I am concerned, plot and language are best balanced in the last two novels.” – Interview with Wolf Haas in „Die Welt”, 2011

A fancy rooftop bar & restaurant, in the city centre. Its first opening after the most recent COVID-19 lockdown. Like what seemed half the users of facebook, we too were waiting in line for an elevator to take us up. There were 3 girls with headsets, 4 guards, 8 elevators. But only one elevator seemed to be in service. The line spawned in front of the elevators, crossed through the entrance hall, which was marble-floored, marble-walled, and big enough to could have housed an Italian Cathedral, threaded itself through the blocked up rotating entrance doors, and when you were still waiting outside you could as well have been lined up for next year’s iPhone and it’d been faster to get one of those.

It was a long line, well presentable. I-have-been-in-the-upscale-office-all-day, smart casual, and dressed-to-impress were the looks. People were either waiting politely in silence, or whispering, or chatting cheerfully–with their voices down as not to bother the other nicely lined-up guests.

But there’s always that one guy. You know who. You have seen and heard him many times before. That one guy speaking loudly enough so that he could be having his conversations across the entire length of a football field. That one guy with a slightly concerned yet cheerful face who chats up anyone.

„Been here before? Oh, the view, fantastic!”, brushing through his thick hair with a big gesture, „Yeah, definitely. As a matter of fact, the first modern hotels were Inns in medieval Europe. Mid-17th century, mostly for coach travellers. People with big money…”, serious eye-balling now, will we silent people understand? „Mid-18th century onwards… at the earliest…”

Quite frankly: this archetype of a guy has an annoyingly active presence. But with a smooth, could-be-rather pleasant, strong voice, easy accent, unintended humour, and compelling short stories. Yet when he’s standing next to you, you would rather lower your head in order not to draw his attention.

This is the guy, who as a child, did not fall into The Word Gap. He was the child that got exposed to 40 million words more than the least cared for children. In his world, words, conversations, language, are as available as American Dollars are to Bill Gates or Jeff Bezos. And by constantly talking, to whomever, he just keeps getting ahead of everyone else.

The crime stories of Wolf Haas read like as if that guy sat down with you over a casual drink, and is giving his very best efforts, at the height of his skills and his best knowledge, to tell you what happened.

That’s how smooth Wolf Haas’s narration flows. His stories are charged with references and credible details, impressive knowledge of local customs and circumstances, things that catch and hold attention. His written language is like spoken language. It’s full of colloquialisms (but no swearing), skipped words, half finished sentences, common phrases, catch phrases, and phrases to catch attention. Ok, here’s the best part. This is very interesting. That’s the important point. To understand this you need to know… He’s using these elements like Fast-Food restaurants are using salt, sugar, and frying oil. Put in enough of that and you can swallow anything. And – if on top – you have the right recipe for your sliders and burgers, then they will never get old.

However, there was something that puzzled me deeply. I watched a dozen or more interviews featuring Wolf Haas on Youtube. My problem was this: He’s quiet. He holds back. He crosses his legs and holds his head to the side with low muscle tone. He’s polite and almost shy. He waits until the interviewer finishes his question and then starts thinking about what he could answer. And halfway into his answers he would pull back and try to rephrase, respond to the interviewer’s facial expressions and body language. According to what I’ve seen on Youtube, Wolf Haas could definitely NOT pull off his written voice in actual speaking. Not by a long shot.

How does this match together?

This really bothered me. It bothered me over the course of a couple of weeks. It was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. I just could not match those two (completely different) sides of him together. How could such a quiet scholar, a meticulous craftsman, a former advertisement copywriter have such a powerful, fearless, highly entertaining written voice?

And then, as it is with many such things, it came to me suddenly. It was hot and dry all day, late afternoon already, I was driving and forcing my scooter through a difficult traffic situation, and while I pulled hard to the left, to avoid colliding with a wrong-way-driver from the right, I suddenly knew how Wolf Haas did it.

I wanted to end today’s writing on the previous paragraph. Leave you with this. But I can’t help but to share my epiphany. He might have done it like this:

Wolf Haas found himself his favourite „that one guy”, maybe knew him all along, distilled his distinct way of telling stories, and on that base modelled his narrator. Just like Richard Bandler and John Grinder model people. Model characters in a novel, certainly, but model the narrator? What a concept! What a twist! Wolf Haas is not only a courageous hero, but also a narrator-modelling genius.

I was driving down a narrow two lane street. The car in front of me was going slower and slower and slower. Then it blinked to the left while pulling over to the right, and came to a halt at the right side of the street.

Why did he blink to the left when he pulled to the right? I figured the driver used his signal lights NOT to indicate that he is going to the right, but to signal me that I shall pass him on his left side. 

Interesting. „Creative use” of his car’s turn signals. Made me question traffic rules and our common agreements on the use of traffic signals altogether.

I notice something similar in movement classes. 

When we are standing, or sitting, then everyone is very clear about:

• Up is where the head is.
• Down is where the feet are.
• In the back is where the back is.
• In front is… in front.

However, I often start my movement classes with lying down on the floor, supine in a horizontal position, lying on the back with legs extended. In this position, suddenly, the „creative use” of directions starts:

• Up is suddenly no longer where the head is, but where the ceiling is.
• Down is no longer where the feet are, but gets reassigned to where the floor is. 
• In front is where the ceiling is. Double tap here. 
• In the back is still in the back, but now that’s also where the floor is. Two is better than one, huh?

Maybe that’s not even a re-assignment of directions. Maybe that’s how many of us see the world, our position in its coordinates, the sky is up and the floor is down, always, invariably so, not coupled to our own orientation.

But how can I lead a beginners movement class, when a good half of my students erased two directions from existence?

„In true dialogue, both sides are willing to change.” – Thích Nhất Hạnh

There’s a famous monk here in Vietnam, the father of Engaged Buddhism. He has published over 130 books, including more than 100 in English language, which have sold over 5 million worldwide.

Unfortunately, in November 2014, he experienced a severe brain hemorrhage, which put him in a wheelchair. Since then he underwent multiple — I quote Wikipedia – „aggressive” therapies. He’s still being wheeled around though, and is said to be still unable to speak.

After spending most of his life abroad, these days he’s back to his home in Vietnam. However, for his medical care they are flying-in famous doctors from abroad, to administer their medications and needles. It’s complicated, because of the COVID-19 situation. But they have the means, so it’s possible.

I just don’t know how mindful someone can swallow pills and how mindful a therapist can stick needles into their client. And how much of „aggressive” treatment someone can take (or needs) before looking for something better.

I’m in Vietnam too. Just a short domestic flight away from him. It’s quite ironic. Even though I’m not specialised in stroke patients, nevertheless, with the teachings of Moshé Feldenkrais I could open a new world to him. After all I’m regarded as a distinguished, accomplished Feldenkrais practitioner, approved of by many. For the famous monk it would be very soothing, healing, magnificent even; a big relief to experience this kind of becoming aware, learning, and improving ability again. Western vegans have a track record of living well beyond 100 years of age. He might even take a few steps again. Maybe write, or dictate, a new book.

But there seems to be no way to bring us two together. More to my disadvantage than his, I guess. With such a teaching success I would benefit much more than he would. Allowing me to work with him would put me on the map of history and secure my livelihood for all years to come.

He on the other hand, even if unable to walk and speak, his new way of sitting and silent teaching touches upon all our souls, and I guess he’s happy inside, no matter what the outside world presents to him.

Something has changed. After something like 42 days of daily blogging I no longer have to look for topics. The topics are storming into me. They try to tsunami out of me.

„Here is the key distinction. If it’s work, people try to figure out how to do less. And if it’s art, we try to figure out how to do more. And when we put kids in the factory we call school, the thing we built to indoctrinate them into compliance, why are we surprised that the question is ‘Will this be on the test?’ Someone who is making art doesn’t say, ‘Can I do one less canvas this month?’ They don’t say, ‘Can I write one less song this month?’ They don’t say, ‘Can I touch one fewer person this month?’ It’s art. They want to do more of it. But when it’s work, when it’s your job, of course you want to do less of it.” – Seth Godin

Suddenly this quote from Seth Godin’s TEDx talk „Stop stealing dreams”, which I always thought I understood, suddenly I experience it. I’m living it. My bones are moving.

I did invent a couple of  movement sequences before, just the way Dr. Moshé Feldenkrais did. I designed them from scratch, and I was very happy with them, just as I was very happy with some of my blog posts.

However, I never committed myself to invent a new movement sequence every day, day after day, as a practice. But this is what Moshé Feldenkrais is said to have done. And I guess, after some time, the movement sequences just spurted out of him. Over time he created hundreds, some say well over a thousand, of his brilliant lessons.