„Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.” – Michelangelo

When it comes to moving the body there seems to be an unlimited variety of ways. For example: as a teenager I liked Skateboarding, but I didn’t like Tennis. I liked cranking my brother’s road bike over the nearby mountains, but I didn’t like playing Soccer (both of these sports were popular in my area). I liked to sometimes run alongside the lake in the rain, but I didn’t like Track & Field in school. I liked climbing from rock to rock at the local waterfall, but I didn’t like Rock Climbing.

Why do I like one thing over the other? And why do so many people like the same things? This makes me wonder… why does anyone like anything?

Some background info:

In 1972, Moshé Feldenkrais was invited to teach for five-and-a-half weeks at the Esalen Institute in Big Sur, California. According to the book, „Esalen 1972 Workshop” by Feldenkrais® Resources, this workshop was sponsored by Esalen, and organized by psychologists Stanley Keleman and Will Schutz. Among the fourteen participants (by invitation only) were Judith Aston, Seymour Carter, Jack Downing, Betty Fuller, Richard Price, Frank Ottiwell, Ilana Rubenfeld and Judith Stransky. 

In a podcast between Larry Goldfarb and Judith Stransky, Judith Stransky talked about her memories of those classes:

11:21 (Judith Stransky) btw . when we started . there were no terms like Awareness Though Movement or Functional Integration . we have created those terms in that program . it was just called the Feldenkrais Method and it was called the group work and the private lessons 

35:55 (Judith Stransky) we said . you can call the group work Awareness Though Movement . and that seemed to be a no-brainer [..] Moshé just sat there and he didn’t say a word . he just let us talk about it [..] we were throwing out our ideas [..] then we had great difficulty finding a word for the individual work . the hands-on work . we thought . you know . different people came up with different terms and none of them seemed right . or appropriate . and then we said well the only term that seems right is the one that Ida Rolf already is using . which is Structural Integration . that is the most appropriate term we said to Moshé for your individual work . but we can’t use it because Ida Rolf is using it . and then somebody said . Functional Integration . and we all said yaaaayyy! . that’s it! . and Moshé just sat there passively . he didn’t say a word . so from then on those were the terms

Full interview here: https://mindinmotion-online.com/judith-stransky/

So, now, Functional Integration, its short form FI, is a wonderfully catchy term. But the greater public can’t use it because the International Feldenkrais Foundation (?) has trademarked those terms and only graduates from their training programs are allowed to call it Functional Integration when they do hands-on work in-the-style-of or inspired-by Moshé Feldenkrais.

Anyways. Now I’ve spent two hours on putting that together, and have not yet written a word of what I really wanted to write about. Silly me.

Notes, what I really wanted to write about:

How is the term „functional” used by movement professionals nowadays? As in functional movement patterns, assessment and screening. 

How is that different from movement that has meaning? As in words and actions that have meaning (to whom?) 

Wouldn’t the term „meaning”, as in the search for meaning and purpose through hands-on work, be more whole and complete, more appropriate? After all, we not only touch on the physical reality of the body, but we’re also including the ability to sense, to perceive, to feel and to think (and to apply good judgement and to weigh options probably?), and most of all, we touch on „how” we act in this world, the quality and style. Heritage and adaption. Wouldn’t „meaning” be a much better term than the rather cold sounding, technical term „functional”?

Today somebody said to me, “before we had the vaccines, people were terrified to go out, they were completely without protection, they didn’t want to leave their homes”. Fearfully I agreed, “yes,” I said, “it was terrible”, I said. I changed topics.

Later I was thinking, “Where did religion go?” Don’t people believe in God anymore? In good faith? That gone? Does nobody believe in strength, heroism, in facing up to destiny? Does nobody raise his fist in rage fiercely up to the heavenly skies anymore? And does nobody weep bitter tears for feeling forsaken, don’t they cry out loud in despair anymore?

Hast du nicht alles selbst vollendet,
Heilig glühend Herz?
Und glühtest jung und gut,
Betrogen, Rettungsdank
Dem Schlafenden da droben?

Who helped me
Against the Titans’ insolence?
Who rescued me from certain death,
From slavery?
Didst thou not do all this thyself,
My sacred glowing heart?

Excerpts from the poem “Prometheus” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

In the information age, are we or are we not, did Goethe’s Prometheus finally complete his angry struggle? And without his God, what has he found? Grateful thanks, to whom will he raise his voice? Whom will he listen to? Whom will he bow down to and in which hands will he trust himself, before he lies down to rest? Who will give him assurance that his hunger and thirst will be satisfied, his body lovingly cared for, and his distress not ignored?

I honour thee, and why?
Hast thou e’er lightened the sorrows
Of the heavy laden?
Hast thou e’er dried up the tears
Of the anguish-stricken?
Was I not fashioned to be a man
By omnipotent Time,
And by eternal Fate,
Masters of me and thee?

Plasteed just released a short clip from a dance battle, on his Youtube channel PLASTEED OFFICIAL [link]. This little bit of his clip I could not skip, it made me chip in with some jpg-strips in this post which I host. Enjoy!

I love his dance sequence, which he titled “Creature”. It fits perfectly into popular culture and the now super popular knees-over-toes fitness movement. Knee health and strengthening workouts do not have to be self contained though. Once we can move again, let’s move again, dance!

I took the clip to Apple’s Compressor to help me understand Plasteed’s sequence better:

Yesterday, when I crossed through the small park on the way to grocery shopping, I stopped to watch a dad (I suppose) take pictures of his boys (I assume) practicing a skateboard trick. He had them old-school jump over a low hanging rope that was set up between two skateboards (they had their skateboards roll underneath the rope while leaping with their feet over the rope). Little did he know (I guess) that I was watching him perform the most awesome trick of all: he was kneeling, like in a textbook Kneeling Sniper position.

He had his left foot standing flush on the floor, and his right knee leaning on the floor next to his left foot, his right foot was bent in its toes, and he was sitting with his pelvis on his right heel, his right heel perfectly placed in between his sit bones, a bit in the back, at the height of his sacrum.

Note to students: how would you describe his kneeling position in your own words? What’s the difference between describing a final position as opposed to describing how to get into that position?

This made me recall parts of a conversation I had a few days earlier with Bryson Newell (Somatic Primer podcast). We were talking about the practice of Feldenkrais and the kind of mindset one enters while practicing. I was happy that Bryson didn’t pester me with the frequently asked question, „How long do the good effects of a Feldenkrais lesson last?”, even though it would have been a valid question.

Thinking of it, a more relatable question: When you read a book, how long do the benefits of reading last? What part of book reading is permanent?

My answer: when I read out loud for 30 minutes–or more–every day my reading skills improves. But if I stop doing so my reading skills get worse within mere weeks. Most of what I read is gone and forgotten soon too, but some things, at least the gist of it, stay for life.

Now, kneeling. With my new „From The Ground Up” Youtube series [link] I noticed: it takes only a few days for me to almost completely lose the good effects from such a demanding Feldenkrais lesson. In this specific case, my ability to sit comfortably back down on my heels, with a hint at the possibility to sit in W-sitting fashion. If I don’t sit like this everyday at least once, it will be gone in less than a week for sure.

Therefore, the way to preserve the movements from a Feldenkrais lesson (I infer) is to put them into one’s active movement vocabulary. Much like with the vocabulary and sentence structure of spoken language, in movement too we go by, „use it or loose it” (I presume).

Also, when I think of the actual physical movements of Muslim prayer, the Ruku, Sujud, Tashahhud (I believe) the standing to kneeling to bowing down, maybe it’s reasonable to say (I generalise) that doing a movement 5 times per day is necessary to keep it in good shape? Because if I look at the people of my own culture—that was shaped by Christianity—maybe being supposed to kneel down only 2 times per day to say your prayers might not be enough to preserve your legs’ ability to fold down.

20 minutes later, after having finished my grocery shopping, I crossed through the same park again. The guy was still kneeling and taking pictures. „Pretty strong kneeling  practice”, I thought, “I should do some serious kneeling myself”, I reasoned. Also, glancing at his tired looking, slow moving kids and how they were being coerced into lining up again and again to practice the same old trick over and over, at this point (I conclude) they already hated Skateboarding more than anything else in this world.

Many years ago I’ve seen a viral video of a whale that was caught up in fisher nets… probably has been for weeks already and could hardly move. Then there were divers who came to the whale’s rescue. They snipped all the ropes, removed the nets, the whale was free. But the whale didn’t move. It was still standing there in the water, floating like a Yoga block made of PU foam, as if the nets were still there (they weren’t). Just the marks from the ropes (that have been removed) were still running deep into his skin. The whale was finally free, but the wounds did cut deep into his soul. Everyone could see that the whale was free to move now, it was obvious, so why didn’t he?

In my last video lesson [Doorway into embodiment – proof of concept (UP9), youtube.com/watch?v=fZNSN5XedCU] we were resting on the front side, on the belly, and rolling the pelvis a bit to the left and to the right. There were some issues with the recording and the reception though, and therefore I was thinking about making another recording; and therefore continued to play with these movements.

Which made me fall to the floor (in a poetic sense). I started to extensively rest on my belly. I was sleeping for many hours. I moved just a little. „When you said to make the movements very small, this I found most interesting and helpful”, my brother told me. I fell asleep again. I woke up again, and moved again. The days passed by and I felt… what did I feel? Did I feel anything? Did I feel nothing? Did I feel save? I did feel peaceful, in a very quiet and unspectacular, unshared and unsocial kind of way.

I didn’t write or work much the past few days, ever since I fell to the floor.

What I did do was to rest a lot. And roll my pelvis a little bit to the left and to the right. And I also drew a lot of tiny circles with my elbows and feet in the air. These kind of things. And in between I was thinking. I was thinking about how to put those singular movements back together to a meaningful sequence. And I was thinking about the books of Alice Miller, most prominently her titles,  “For Your Own Good – Hidden Cruelty in Child-Rearing and the Roots of Violence”, and “Thou Shalt Not Be Aware – Societies Betrayal of the Child”.

And I came to this conclusion:

There are no secret, hard to access, higher worlds hidden behind this world, other than the worlds we don’t allow ourselves to feel.

To set ourselves free, there need not be a struggle, no uproar, no crying with snot and tears, no anger and violence, no big cathartic events. There need not be a big search and inquiry into truth and the nature of reality.

But what we must do, can do, ought to do, is to move and to feel. Move the pelvis a little bit to the left and to the right. Take off our too-tight shoes and curl our toes down, then lift our toes up. If everybody can see that the whale is free, he probably is. But will he use his arms to paddle, his fin to steer? What will he do, where will he swim to next?

I was under the impression that we’re good, gesamtgesellschaftlich betrachtet, as society as a whole, but this issue just keeps boiling up. It’s like a movie plot that keeps presenting itself over and over again. Different movies with the same plots.

I just don’t know how to write about it, yet. Let me try:

I bumped into this issue—again—a few days ago. After some quite remarkable psychological (I felt more peaceful and confident) and functional (I improved my walking) changes that came about by practicing my pelvis rolling class [How your pelvis connects to your head (UP9.1), youtube.com/watch?v=XOxG5hDnst]. I mean, I don’t mean by following along my own instructions as if they were mandatory guidelines, but by playing with the movements, on my own. In silence. And with music. Or while listening to podcasts. During the night or during the day. On my couch, in my bed, or on my carpet. For hours and hours, and hours. And let new movement patterns and discoveries reveal themselves, unfold.

I then, in search of reconciliation with society, I was reading Alice Miller. Or more like, I was flipping through some of her books, when the subsequent paragraphs drew my attention:

“These considerations help me to understand why so many analysts seem to shrink from their own discoveries. An example of this is offered by Helm Stierlin in Separating Parents and Adolescents (1974) when he uses the parable of the Prodigal Son to illustrate his therapeutic goals. The son returns from death to life by obediently coming back to his father, claims Stierlin, who thus, although he knows better, assigns obedience its biblical value. This means that the father designates as »death« everything that separated his son from him—the son’s youthful disobedience occurring at a time when the father was not part of his life—and describes as »life« his son’s return: »For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost and is found.« Since Stierlin sees it as his therapeutic task to bring about a reconciliation between children and parents, he doesn’t notice that he is identifying with the father’s interests, at least in this case, or that the son finds his way back to his father and wins his love by being obedient. Stierlin does not realize that a restoration of harmony is being celebrated here only at the price of the son’s acquiescence in his father’s definition of everything that separated his son from him as »death«. In terms of the symbolism of this scene, one could say that in Stierlin’s therapeutic endeavors to bring about reconciliation, the relevance of his concept of delegation and its usefulness to the profession must be sacrificed for the sake of reunion with the father.”

Citations from Alice Miller, Du sollst nicht merken, Suhrkamp Verlag, 1. Auflage 1981, Page 341, Kapitel C8. 80 Jahre Triebtheorie. In English: Alice Miller, Thou Shalt Not Be Aware, A Meridian Book, 1986, 9th printing, Page 201, Eighty Years of the Drive Theory.

Let me copy down the following paragraph as well:

“A similar phenomenon can be found in the case of Horst Eberhard Richter. The same author who in 1963 published a brilliant book, Parents, Child, and Neurosis, which described parental power and the child’s victimization within the family with virtually unprecedented accuracy, speaks in his book, Der Gotteskomplex (1979), in English language, All Mighty (1983), of the child’s escape from fantasized, fatal helplessness into narcissistic omnipotence. How did it come about that one of the leading experts on the child’s family situation now refers to fantasized and no longer real helplessness? Furthermore, how can we explain the fact that someone who sees and describes the formative influence of the social milieu on adults as clearly, empathically, and with such dedication as Richter can do so without any concern for the earliest imprints? This would not be so puzzling in itself, for a great many professional psychologists still do not know how markedly and lastingly the individual is shaped by his or her childhood. But Richter already knew this full well in 1963. What became of his knowledge?”

So this is the topic. And of course, we know, bad things might happen all the time, not just in early childhood. At any age and at any stage of our lives we might trust in someone, or be in a situation where we depend on someone, and then maybe not only get hurt a little bit, but get hurt badly, maybe even permanently disabled, altered, or entirely re-programmed. We might not even know that we missed an important developmental milestone, or sustained damage, or lost something essential… such as the ability to feel ourselves, or the ability to skip, roll, jump, squat, make music, bake bread, take care of someone, be compassionate, stay cool-headed in an argument, see the bigger picture… and neither to what extend, or even worse: we might have no idea how to recover or carry on (if there’s any insight at all).

I’ve written about this before, by quoting John Taylor Gatto, and his book, The Underground History Of American Education, and his essay, The Seven-Lesson Schoolteacher. It’s the same topic. Different movie, same plot.

I’ve seen it before, heard it before, and I’ve also read about it before (for example in the case Wilhelm Reich vs Sigmund Freud). I’ve felt it before, as a kind of knowing, but now I can almost see it clearly. It’s like in the movies, for example, Netflix Stranger Things Season 1. For a while you suspect there’s a monster, and then you know there’s a monster. But you don’t get to see it, yet. Only when you’re so many episodes into the season you finally get to see it in full scale and get an idea of the full situation.

And still. How to talk about it. How to write about it? And what to do about it? And what’s worse, I can see this sickness running even in my own profession. It’s like being in Jack Finney’s, The Body Snatchers. All over again. And up to now, with the tools at hand, sneaking out of the city and then performing a clean amputation seemed to be the only viable solution.