An unfortunately pervasive idea is that we should only do things we’re ‘good at.’
Everywhere we look we see athletes, politicians, dancers, musicians, journalists, actors, business moguls and scientists who are excellent, extraordinary, at the top of their game. They are everywhere we look because they are, of course, the ones on television and celebrated by the media in general. Concurrently, we see what happens when people err, when they don’t show up with their ‘A Game.’ They are eviscerated before a watchful public often waiting to pounce on the first show of ineptitude. Essentially, we are willing to accept excellence, and nothing else.
It’s no wonder that we become increasingly a people of watchers. We watch others play soccer , dance, play tennis, sing. We design entire weekends around watching others – the virtuosos –do things. We applaud. If, by inclination and experience we’re connoisseurs, we live to compare one virtuoso to another, to flesh out the nuances of difference and offer a critique.
What does this mean for the Feldenkrais student?
Most people are accustomed to being good at what they do. This impulse is so engrained as to render it invisible. Often we don’t even realize that we have habits about striving for excellence, and for perfection. So, when we are working with a Feldenkrais lesson, and we are asked to “Do it easily and simply; don’t work hard, don’t worry about doing it perfectly,” we wonder how this can possibly be effective.
Surprisingly, although it seems counter-intuitive, this ‘trying to do it well’ can really get in the way of progress. Why is this? How can trying to do well be an impediment to progress?
Very simply, this is one of the aspects of somatic work that is most distinctive. By way of explanation, for starters, when we try to do well, we call on our highly polished habits, our most practiced approaches. Since the aim of somatic work is to create new pathways for action, there’s a conflict in intention there. Further, the approach of somatic work is to increase awareness and set up a kind of dialogue between movement and the brain. This dialogue seems to be most successful in generating change under a specific set of conditions:
1. When something novel is taking place, which generates curiosity;
2. When a spirit of exploration reigns, thus allowing the brain to find its own best solution;
3. When movements, and their ‘ripple effects’ are followed closely with attention.
The constant seeking of excellence interferes with the second two conditions. It is impossible to be exploratory and controlling at the same time. And a focus on striving, doing things perfectly or the ‘right way’ uses up too much of our attention, leaving little for observing the fine tuning that is going on during a somatic lesson. In short, pursuing virtuosity just does not allow for a natural change process to take place; rather, it creates an obstacle to that kind of learning.
Somatic educators know from experience something that may seem ironic. When we let go of the judgment, and just DO, with awareness, we often surprise ourselves. We become more capable; we become more fearless. We release some of our parasitic action and thinking that usually get in the way. We discover a different kind of natural excellence emerging on its own.
We ask open-ended questions, such as “Notice the difference in your left and right sides” or “Which way is easier?” to help our students and ourselves explore movement. This is very different than saying, “Do it this way, that’s the right way.” Somehow our brains just respond very well to this open approach. It leads to our finding our own good solutions, and for our innate intelligence to take center stage.
If you have never experienced this phenomenon, you might like to try it!
