I just used Sora for the first time, since ChatGPT shoved that link into my grill. And pretty much got what you would see in a beginners’ Feldenkrais class, from someone who’s totally new to Somatics or Feldenkrais, and is used to stiff workouts:

Prompt: a yoga person lying on the left side, with legs slightly folded, arms extended forwards, right hand resting on or near the left hand

We see: Legs super tightly pulled up, despite the prompt being “slightly folded.” The neck super stiff, the chest tensed up. The hands are placed according to the prompt, but also held with a lot of tension.

Still, a good start, because we got someone on the floor! Now we can start improving. Or, “could,” (in quotes) if it was a real person with memory and the capacity for learning :)

Now that I think about it, two years ago I sent in my application to Tesla robotics. But I neither got a job offer, nor an interview invitation. Just a standard turn-down email. It seems like they are more interested in technical engineers, rather than knowledgable movement teachers.

Prompt: a Feldenkrais practitioner lying on the left side, with legs slightly folded, not drawn up, just bent a little at the knees and hips, enough to provide stability, the arms are casually extended forwards, with the right hand resting near the left hand. The fingers, hands, wrists are relaxed. So is the rest of the person. This means the head is resting on the floor. The spine is relaxed and reflects the natural curve that is a result of the head resting on the floor, the legs on top of each other and relaxed. The person is at ease, waiting to hear the first movement instruction.

Better. And Sora AI even upgraded the hard, plastic Yoga mat to a more comfy futon-style mat, the likes we use in Feldenkrais-inspired classes.

Also, a nice touch, the man: not only outnumbered by women, as in real life, but also the slowest on the uptake. LOL. Not bad, not bad at all. But not sure if worth the effort. I mean the image prompt creation.

This morning, upon waking up, I felt an itch in my lower back, and immediately started doing my personal, personalised core muscle training, and felt both stable and itch-free in a matter of minutes, as expected. Due to this reliable, successful exercise, I was thinking, “Core muscle training seems crucial, indispensable, non-negotiable.”

Then I was trying to define for whom this might be true, but realised that it’s all from the top of my head. I wouldn’t know where to look for reliable data for the “general population,” given that this topic has such big economic relevance and the millions of fitness influencers and snake oil salesmen, and a multi-billion dollar industry. Surely, it’s a thick swamp with very little, reliable information.

Definition problems aside, it’s still more than a hunch. It’s my personal experience. So maybe I should start here. I rephrase:

From my personal experience, core muscle training seems crucial, indispensable, non-negotiable. From my personal experience, to neglet core muscle training for too long, will always lead to discomfort and pain.

I know that’s true for me, and everyone who’s part of the aging population—I mean… if we take this word literally, aging population, this includes absolutely everyone, in a literal sense.

But which exercises would you allow yourself to pick up, to enter your life?

I see Fitness Youtubers proposing exercises that I, personally, might consider trying once, or try maybe for a while (like side-planks, or curl-ups)… but if you do those exercises daily, or twice daily… I mean, every day, for every day of your remaining life… how is this not a problematic choice? Or at least, a highly personal choice? This exercise will become part of you, part of your lifestyle, just like what you eat, read, how you walk and talk.

I think the topic of choosing a core workout exercise is much bigger than it seems. Two distinct strategies come to mind. From personal experience as a movement (Feldenkrais/Somatics) teacher I’ve seen clients:

1. Steadfast. Pick up an exercise, or exercise program, and stick with it. Even years later I heard from clients they are still faithful to regular repetition.
2. Adaptive. Try once, or for a while, change, drop, pick up something else, neglect, start again…

I might think that “Adaptive” is more of a beginners mindset. With such a strategy you will get to know many different styles, perspectives, and gain a lot of experience. While “Steadfast” is more of a seasoned player (in Austria we say “old cat“) style, based on experience and knowing with certainty what is a good choice for oneself. Maybe a mix is good? Or is it part of ones’ inherent, psychologic character structure? Still thinking… curious to hear your thoughts…

When I first started learning Feldenkrais in a so-called professional training program, some of the teachers kept mentioning breathing with the lower abdomen. And one of the senior teachers went somewhat overboard by taking Moshé Feldenkrais a bit too literally, at least in my opinion: he said we should be able to flip a coin placed on the lower abdomen—by controlling the muscles in that area.

As a software engineer, I wanted to know what that was all about, and if I might be able to learn it. This led me on a journey of browsing through many medical books about breathing, function and rehabilitation; and the vastly larger linguistic corpus of New Age and Yoga-inspired books on breathing.

It also led me on a 2-year long journey of playing the didgeridoo, an Australian wind instrument. I practiced almost daily, for an hour at least, booming away, circular breathing, and using all sorts of breathing explorations, like belly, back, sides, pelvic floor and full chest breathing techniques.  What a time it was to be alive! As for the didgeridoos themselves, at first I just cut some from various PVC pipes, adding mouthpieces made of beeswax. Later, I invested in more pricier originals. I still have two beautifully painted, naturally termite-hollowed eucalyptus tree didgeridoos from Australia in my storage. At this point though, I’m not sure if they’re cherished keepsakes or just dust collectors.

The passion for playing the didgeridoo seemed to happen all by itself, without me needing to motivate myself to practice. Nothing of that sort happened in the New Age breathwork section, though I did visit and attend satsangs with some famous Indian Yogis, Paramahansas, and monks. However, some of the more exciting practices I tried were all from the Western hemisphere, like Holotropic breathing (Stanislav Grof) and Rebirthing breathwork (Leonard Orr). 

And then there was the Buteyko breathing technique from Russia, which took me a while to figure out. Proper resources were scarce at that time. I then practiced twice daily for about a year, and filled almost an entire notebook with numbers and tables recording my progress. I can’t say that I enjoyed it too much, but it did give me the means to keep the mild Asthma in check, which I had since a child.

And then, at some point, my passion for breathwork started to fade. I didn’t go to the Apnoe diving breathing workshop in the Maldive Islands, which my younger brother attended and loved, but for me– my journey into breathwork had already ended.

I did learn a lot, though. The experience and knowledge I gathered is still helping me with my Feldenkrais client work, up to today, in quite a few ways.

Regarding the lower-belly coin flip, supposedly done with the rectus abdominis muscles—which, from a biomechanical perspective, don’t work in isolation but primarily aid in flexing the torso and stabilizing the trunk—I felt confident enough to place that coin-flip where it belongs: in the realm of New Age fiction, Yoga-lore, or perhaps even old-school male fantasies. ;)

As for excelling at breathwork itself, I don’t think I have the talent for it. After all the work I’ve put in, in the long run I still can’t hold my breath for longer than the recommended minimum of 20 seconds control pause in Buteyko breathing. Quite embarrasing, in a way.

But then, I fondly remember the fun singing lessons I took, which cured me of getting overly hoarse from teaching all day. I also fondly remember the following paragraphs from Lilli Lehmann’s book, How to Sing. It’s one of the books I read during the time I was into breathwork, and I particularly like the ending of a particular section. It always helps me put things into perspective and acknowledge how far I’ve come in many of my own journeys, despite my lack of talent in some areas, or the late callings I’ve encountered. Here’s the quote:

Lili Lehman, How to Sing

(Original Title: Meine Gesangskunst, Publication Date: 1924, Translator: Richard Aldrich)

Nevertheless, there are fortunately gifted geniuses in whom are already united all the qualities needed to attain greatness and perfection, and whose circumstances in life are equally fortunate; who can reach the goal earlier, without devoting their whole lives to it. Thus, for instance, in Adelina Patti everything was united—the splendid voice, paired with great talent for singing, and the long oversight of her studies by her distinguished teacher, Strakosch. She never sang roles that did not suit her voice; in her earlier years she sang only arias and duets or single solos, never taking part in ensembles. She never sang even her limited repertory when she was indisposed. She never attended rehearsals, but came to the theatre in the evening and sang triumphantly, without ever having seen the persons who sang and acted with her. She spared herself rehearsals which, on the day of the performance, or the day before, exhaust all singers, because of the excitement of all kinds attending them, and which contribute neither to the freshness of the voice nor to the joy of the profession.

Although she was a Spaniard by birth and an American by early adoption, she was, so to speak, the greatest Italian singer of my time. All was absolutely good, correct, and flawless, the voice like a bell that you seemed to hear long after its singing had ceased.

Yet she could give no explanation of her art, and answered all her colleagues’ questions concerning it with an “Ah, je n’en sais rien!”

She possessed, unconsciously, as a gift of nature, a union of all those qualities that all other singers must attain and possess consciously. Her vocal organs stood in the most favorable relations to each other. Her talent, and her remarkably trained ear, maintained control over the beauty of her singing and of her voice. The fortunate circumstances of her life preserved her from all injury. The purity and flawlessness of her tone, the beautiful equalization of her whole voice, constituted the magic by which she held her listeners entranced. Moreover, she was beautiful and gracious in appearance.

The accent of great dramatic power she did not possess.

When it comes to coffee, there might be two main reasons to drink it:

1. Firstly, to enjoy the feeling—or the taste of it, the social setting and the (sharable) experience of consuming it, maybe also the ritual of preparation, and the act of purchasing.
2. Secondly, to experience the effects—a stimulating boost, inducing a stronger heartbeat, increased alertness, and enhanced focus.

Maybe something similar could be said about exercise.

However, when it comes to rehab and physical therapy modalities, most people might do it mainly for reason #2, to experience the effects: to get relief from pain, or physical restrictions, or gain a better functioning body. With little regard towards how the therapy itself feels like, or enjoying the process. And maybe for good reason, for I myself, too, have experienced some therapies as not necessarily pleasant, rushed, and less effective than I’d hoped for; while resenting the monetary costs.

How do Feldenkrais-inspired lessons, and these kind of movement sequences, match up with that thought?

It seems that over the past few decades, Feldenkrais has been boxed into a therapeutic corner. As a result, potential clients may ask:

• Why should I do it?
• What will be the benefits?

• How much does it cost and what can I expect from my investment?

When instead they could ask:

• How does it feel like?
• Why do you love it so much?

And regarding main reason #2, the benefits: Oh, it can do that? I didn’t know it can do that! Let me try!

Happy September 11 everyone 😅 23 yeas ago, in fall 2001, I was on a Vision quest (reconnecting with nature, an ancient ritual, water fasting, no drugs) in the vast open desert space of Grand Staircase–Escalante National Monument, Utah, US. Three days and three nights of solitude, of becoming one with the earth and the stars. When I returned back to civilisation both me and civilisation itself have been changed forever.

Now on to today’s blog post: in a Youtube comment @Didi-m9b asked: “I wish I could understand what it means to push your spine to the left …”

I have answered this question immediately after I’ve seen it. And just now I wanted to post it here on my blog… only that upon re-reading my answer, suddenly, I have second thoughts.

I wrote that in Feldenkrais-inspired movement lessons we often think in terms of the skeleton. But do we really?

Maybe we need to consider this:

In the human body, mechanical forces do not travel solely through the bones. While bones provide structural support, force is distributed across a network of muscles, tendons, ligaments, and other connective tissues. These tissues work together to absorb and transfer force efficiently. If we push a heavy object, the load is shared across our entire system, preventing our bones from bearing the full brunt of the force. Muscles play a crucial role in terms of stabilisation and control, thus protecting both bones and joints from damage.

So it’s a mix. Bones and flesh and the nervous system. In ancient times some folks have thought that the human body is entirely made of clay (which bleeds when you poke at it), and at other times some folks thought us to be entirely made of meat. But nowadays our thinking is greatly refined. What do we think of when we think of movement? For example:

• what do we think of when we think about the movement of pushing a drawer shut with our hips?
• What do we think of when reaching up with one hand, or when turning the head, when taking a step, or when touching two fingers together?

In the Youtube video where that question came from, “I wish I could understand what it means to push your spine to the left …” I mean the entire video is about this one motion and how we think about ourselves, and movement…

How can I explain that more clearly? Or, maybe, could it be that, for a wider audience, watching merely one video with DIY instructions might not suffice for establishing a new understanding of ourselves and how we think of movement?

What could be possibly achieved in a short Youtube comment to answer a question that could not be answered in half an hour long video with plenty of speech and demonstrations? I think I will delete my comment on Youtube, leave the question by @Didi-m9b (whom I don’t seem to know) unanswered, and continue to focus more on my patrons, long term subscribers and supporters.