Writing – as a Feldenkrais lesson

I’ll say a few words about many elements of the process, by no means exhaustive of the infinite whole…

But first admitting: I forgot I was writing under the watch of my 73-year-old self. I got lost. Which I presume is good. Conscientious, I suppose, to be commenting on this; yet writing is an art full of all kinds of baggage.

I wonder with loudness subvocally, if a kind of Feldenkrais writing might be a wealthy learning experience – an experiment perhaps worth doing. Ah, but to presume a worthwhileness is to engage in something for the wrong reasons entirely. I don’t know what I’ll get from this (wiser indeed) and here I launch forth:

***

With a delicate sense of getting to know the keys, I write not so much to write something in particular but instead to learn how it is I develop relationship with the keyboard, its constituent parts, the operating system, my thoughts, the sight of the symbols on page we call words, and restful prose-pumping body-mind.

 

The interaction of many happenings is ultimately speaking to the relative organization or not-so-much; the symbiotic nature, the flow, the process, either one of withering fight or happy go-with.

 

If you’ve done a Feldenkrais’ Awareness Through Movement lesson, the aforementioned beginning of Feldenkrais’ writing time will be less confusing – although there is no doubt you may know a little about Moshe Feldenkrais’ work and still be utterly confused.

 

I’ll write a couple of touch-points, as felt.

 

  • wear comfortable clothing, sit comfortable, feel free to notice and adjust positions
  • go as slowly as you sense interesting movements, differences, peculiarities, and such – in fact, go as slowly as you continue to notice happenings, or as fast as remains pleasurable. The point is not to just get it done, but to enjoy learning how it gets done. Time is a resource and in giving attention, you make sure this resource is well spent (this bullet took several minutes to type, for example).
  • Do you feel the sub-vocality of writing / thinking? Do you sense subtle action of muscles in your mouth being exercised as you type? The brain is for movement – continue to keep this in mind.
  • What do the keys feel like? Are they soft? Hard? How much give do they have? How hard do you have to press them? Can you press them harder? More softly? What is the quality with which you give your fingers their chance to explore the keys? How is this relationship? Are you breathing? What is noticeable in the play of any of this happening? What you may, or may not, notice, is that there is never nothing going on – in other words, there is always an infinite possibilities with regard to what you may be curious about in the way you do things. In writing, this too is true.
  • Can you make the writing experience a pleasurable occurring? If not, why do it? Can you sense parts of yourself where you are holding on to something contrary to the process at hand? Can you notice tension in any of yourself that may thwart your current efforts? If you notice anything, attempt to do so with the youthful elegance of laying on your back in the grass looking at a slowly passing could; such a cloud is perfect no matter what shape, no matter what its nature. Notice yourself, the computer, the pressing of the keys, the air on your open skin, suchness (“tatata”), in the same manner, as if you don’t really care about a thing in the world because “you” / “I” isn’t really here in this moment, anyway. Can you attend to the process while investigation creative ways to do it differently, exploring avenues which may make the whole of it easier, or more dare-I-say scintillating?
  • When you find that your attention is drifting, or no longer capable of being casually held, then stop. Move on to another part of your day. The gift you give to your central being (the CNS) is a playful kind of attention – and in return for this gift, the deep mystery may make some sense of it all in the direction of an improved organization. It’s as if that deep, billion-year-old system is grateful for the gift of awareness, and in return it brings us a bit more closely connected to no-more-separateness. Let it do what it may and enjoy the works. As Alan Watts has said, we are the big-bang or whatever and it us, in the same way the leaves of the tree the tree and the tree its leaves. We are an expression of this earth, a coming-out-of-it, to notice the way we are expressed is to, at the same time, learn how we can swimmingly express and unimpededly so.

 

  • More later, perhaps. Leaving this, today: to learn many ways of doing a particular thing – because indeed there are infinite hows of doing any one thing – is a sign of intelligence. So “practice” is a game of such, an exploring various ways so that better ways (for us, right now) may be discovered and allowed to be called upon.

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