Michael Hanko's blog

Here is a self-experiment from my e-newsletter.  Check the comments for notes about my experience with this self-experiment, then add a comment of your own!

Discover for yourself the power of consistent thinking.  To keep things simple, for this self-experiment, you are going to limit yourself to a single thought of the form,

"I allow my ____________ to release." 

Fill in the blank with a part of your body where you tend to store tension - forehead, jaw, tongue, neck, shoulders, hands, low back, feet are some possibilities.  Whatever part you pick, stay with the same part for the course of this experiment.

Think your thought as often as you remember to, both in repose and during activity.  For example, before starting an activity (reaching for your cellphone, getting out of a chair, picking up an object, etc.), pause for a moment and send your thought.  Then proceed with the activity.  See how often you remember to do this.  (And please be gentle with yourself when you forget!)

The kind of thought you are working with is like a wish and is not intended to be carried out.  (Movement may occur as a result of the wish, but it should happen because muscles are releasing, not contracting.)   Remember that any single repetition of your wish is unlikely to bring about substantial, lasting change; the effects are cumulative and will likely accrue more intensely the more you repeat your wish.

Observe what you notice after working with this wish for one hour. .  .then one day. . .then one week or longer.   If you appreciate the results, you may want to keep this wish in your permanent repertoire!

A prospective student recently asked me an important question.  I'm adding it and my answer to this blog.

Q: Do the lessons involve any "homework" or practice at home between sessions? If so, how much time would be involved beyond the actual lessons?

A: The idea of lessons is that we explore how your thinking can positively affect the way you use your body in your daily activities.  It is then up to you to actually use your new thinking in your daily activities.

The more you practice this, the faster you'll change.  For beginning students, I typically recommend making one activity per day your "Alexander laboratory."  For instance, you may decide to practice your Alexander thinking while brushing your teeth....or picking up your coffee cup....or when walking to work. 

Gradually, you will begin to apply the thinking to more and more activities, until it becomes a part of how you do things.

A famous Alexander teacher (Walter Carrington) once said about Alexander students that "the active participation that is required is not muscular activity, but is the active participation of thought and awareness." 

This is what I will want you to practice between lessons.

 

As a youngster, I was a bit of a smart-aleck.  One of my sisters would ask me a perfectly legitimate question: “Do you know where my pink hairbrush is?”  “Yes,” I’d answer, with my characteristic supercilious pursing of the lips guaranteed to drive my siblings insane, “I know where your hairbrush is--it’s in the world.”   I delighted in wasting my sister’s time by providing information that was not specific enough to actually be helpful.

Other than by annoying my little sisters, I liked to amuse myself with nerdy activities like writing out my return address on envelopes in what I fancied to be its properly complete version.  Writing the tiniest characters I could manage, I crammed all of this onto the upper left corner of my envelope:

Mike Hanko
5403 Rolling Rd
Springfield, Virginia
USA
North America
Western Hemisphere
Earth
Solar System
Milky Way Galaxy
Universe

Now I was wasting my own time (and ink), by providing much more information than the Postal Service needed to get a letter to me.  (Not that it wouldn’t serve me in other situations to comprehend my precise place in the scheme of things.)

Most systems--those pertaining to everything from residential addresses to locating hairbrushes to the flow of energy in my body--can be viewed at varying levels of hierarchy.  We have to decide what level of this hierarchy gives us the most useful information about the problem we are trying to solve.

For example, if I have a new student who asks for directions to my teaching studio and I provide a picture of the Milky Way Galaxy with a little arrow pointing to the location of our solar system, I will be waiting a long time for that student to show up.

 

If, on the other hand, I give the new student my address, and then go on to tell her that when she enters my front door she will take six steps to the left and enter the studio door, take three more steps, and then take a seat in the chair that is 3 feet from the window and 4 feet from the bookcase, she will probably seek out a different teacher.  Even though I have given her usable information, it is too precise for the situation.  I come off as an anal-retentive freak.

Let’s say I have figured out the proper degree of positional information to provide my new student, and she’s sitting in my chair, ready for her first lesson.   Now I have to make a choice as to what level of her energetic organization to deal with.

I know that ultimately, all her energy comes down to the states of vibration of the subatomic particles making up her body, but I do not know how to perceive this vibration under my hands.  Nor could I hope to change these vibrations through my intervention, too gross by many, many orders of magnitude.  I might as well try to determine the weight of a sesame seed using my bathroom scale.

Many other hierarchical levels of my student’s structure are beyond my perception and intervention: interactions between her atoms, molecules, cells, even organs.  Though I believe that by working as an Alexander teacher, I can bring about changes at these levels--improving digestion, refining the firing of motor neurons, maybe even tweaking the uptake of neurotransmitters--I am not conscious of directly acting upon her small intestine, her neurons, or her molecules of serotonin.  Thus far in my development as a teacher, these phenomena occupy a level of subtlety beyond my grasp.

At the other end of the hierarchical range, I can err by intervening at too crude a level.  Walter Carrington (a respected teacher taught by F.M. Alexander) warned against this mistake, advising teachers not to attempt to bring their students into visual symmetry or to directly reposition a student’s spine or other body parts.  Into this category of overly crude interventions we can also put such misguided breathing advice as asking our students to breathe into particular parts of their torsos or to breathe in a certain rhythm.

Between these outer ranges of incomprehensible subtlety and brutish over-doing lies the hierarchical level (perhaps levels?) at which the Alexander Technique enables us to bring about change for our students--change that will potentially encompass ALL the levels of a student’s hierarchical structure, from the rhythm of her breathing to the rhythm of vibration of her atoms.

Carrington instructs us that the proper level of intervention for us is our students’ state of “going up.”  Through our hands we can identify when a student is going up and when she is not.  Through our teaching we can then intervene in her thinking to produce changes in her body (and her energy) that we can feel, see, and otherwise experience through our senses.

Alexander has given us a means to indirectly bring about change for our students--real change that permeates every level of their being.  Our entree into this complexity is at the relatively easily perceptible level of postural reflexes.  We mustn’t waste our time--or that of our students--by attempting to intervene at the wrong levels of our students’ systems. 

Have you ever become so engrossed in a book that you completely lost track of time and eventually looked up from your reading to realize that you’re a little achy from sitting for god knows how long in an uncomfortable position?  Or have you ever zoned out into auto-pilot mode while driving home from work and somehow gotten to your destination without any recollection of the trip? 

Lately--under the influence of Missy Vineyard’s excellent new AT book, How You Stand, How You Move, How You Live--I’ve been contemplating this kind of situation, in which my awareness shrinks, leaving me with only a partial picture of my experience. 

What constitutes complete awareness?  I distinguish at least three aspects of any moment of experience which my awareness may encompass: my Self, my activity, and my environment.  While recognizing that my awareness exhibits a fluid, delicately shifting balance among these three aspects of experience, my goal is to neglect none of them and favor none of them above the others.

My Self includes the whole psychophysical ME--my thoughts, my emotions, the level of tension in my muscles, my breathing, etc.  In my moments of complete, expanded awareness, I strive to view my physical self as if from outside of myself, allowing me to see the whole of me--what all of my body parts from scalp to soles of feet are doing.  Habitually, I resort to a much more restricted focus, often becoming absorbed in a particular part of my body that is moving or tensing or experiencing pain. Or I lose track of everything except for my thoughts, which frequently have nothing to do with the present moment.  One recent glorious late-summer evening I was taking a walk to restore myself after a long day of teaching.  A few minutes into the walk, I realized that I was mentally reviewing my schedule for the next teaching day, completely oblivious to the sensory smorgasbord at hand: the clear sky and sultry breezes of this mid-September evening that felt more like mid-June, the passing people with their variety of gaits, adornments, and facial expressions, the flowering window boxes, the joyful sensations of my arms and legs swinging as I walked, the smell of just-baked cupcakes at Billy’s Bakery, the rich soundscape of Eighth Avenue on a warm evening.  How much richer and more restorative my walk became when I came out of my frantic, worried thinking into the actual world of sensory stimuli around me. 

My activity comprises that in which I am engaged as well as any objects or living creatures required for that activity.  An activity could be as simple as standing on the floor or as complex as keeping my Chihuahua from lunging after a discarded bagel on the ground while looking out for turning traffic as we cross 23rd Street, all while carrying on a cellphone conversation with my mother, as I explain why I can’t stay more than one night when I go down for my sister’s birthday celebration.  I find that in general, the activity predominates in my awareness over Self and environment, this effect intensifying as the difficulty of the activity or my interest in it increases.   Wasn’t I even encouraged throughout my school years to “concentrate,” i.e. focus on an assignment while purposefully ignoring all other stimuli?    (I will return to this wrongheaded pedagogical attitude in a bit.)

My environment is made up of concentric fields in space; I can allow my awareness to include as many of them as I wish to(or am able to) through my sensory channels.  At a minimum, I wish to take in my immediate surroundings, such as the space surrounding the chair on which I’m sitting as I type these words.  Depending on my intentions, though, I could expand my awareness to take in the whole room, my apartment, this floor of my building, the whole building, Chelsea, New York City, the United States, the world...up to the entire Universe.  (I am not yet able to take in the entire Universe.)  While I’m typing, it’s usually sufficient to be aware of the room, but if my activity is disposing of a dead battery, I may wish to consider the effects this action will have on Earth’s ecosystems, well beyond my personal space.  (How many problems of our modern world have their roots in someone’s short-sighted awareness, in someone’s failure or unwillingness to consider the ramifications of their actions outside their immediate situation?)

Were you, too, encouraged to assume tunnel vision sometime in your educational history?  Did a teacher ever advise you to shrink your entire world down to the contemplation of an algebra problem or an essay on Chaucer?  (0% Self:100% activity:0% environment)  Did a coach ever admonish you to ignore the signals from your body and run through the pain?  (0% Self:100% activity:0% environment)  Did a voice teacher ever have you so wrapped up in thinking about your diaphragm that you couldn’t breathe at all...let alone sing?  (100% part of Self:0% activity:0% environment)  Did a tour guide ever over-stimulate your enthusiasm to take in the beauty of a work of art to the point at which you bump into benches and slowly develop aches and pains in your poorly-attended-to body?  (0% Self: 0% activity:100% environment)

It occurred to me that--unlike over-attention to Self or activity--people generally recognize the inadvisability of becoming too involved in attention to one’s environment.  “Hey, watch where you’re going!” is how this viewpoint is usually expressed, for example, when you ram your grocery cart into someone’s heels while ogling the luscious hamburger (or other) buns across the aisle at Whole Foods.

But think of how we are taught to be in amused awe of the absent-minded professor who is so wrapped up in his research that he “loses” the glasses that are on his head or forgets to eat.  Or how we lionize our opera/rock/Broadway divas whose uncompromising career focus leaves no room for living normal off-stage lives.

The beliefs underlying these ways of being and approaches to learning are that 1) we will absorb more information by narrowing our focus, and 2) we are unable to process multiple levels of awareness simultaneously.  My experience of teaching the Alexander Technique has proven to me over and over the inaccuracy of these beliefs.  In a future posting, I will outline what I’ve noticed about awareness when I’m teaching and describe some ways you can explore the benefits and challenges of expanded awareness in your own day-to-day activities.

Want to know why people are coming to me to learn the Alexander Technique?  My students are experiencing all sorts of benefits as they progress in their lessons--as am I in mine.

You should consider coming for some lessons of you own if you'd like to

1. Look and feel younger.

2. Breathe fully and naturally.

3. Enjoy improved health.

4. Eliminate your aches and pains.

5. Learn to know yourself on a deeper level.

6. Understand how your body is meant to work--as a coordinated whole.

7. Change bad habits into healthy ones.

8. Become responsive rather than reactive.

9. Increase your energy.

10. Be calm even under stress.

11. Learn to give yourself more time.

12. Have perfect posture without effort or discomfort.

13. Sing (act, dance, play) at a higher level of skill.

14. Eliminate unwanted tensions.

15. Channel your energy more productively.

16. Be stronger with your current level of muscle mass.

17. Exercise safely and more effectively.

18. Unleash your creative power.

19. Walk (or run) more efficiently.

20. Achieve a balance of mind and body.

21. Move more gracefully.

22. Speak with more resonance and power.

23. Enjoy better digestion.

24. Increase your awareness of self, others, and environment.

25. Learn to focus your thinking.

26. Quiet your chattering mind.

27. Learn effective ways to relax your back.

28. Sit more comfortably at your desk.

29. Figure out what you are doing to interfere with your potential...and stop doing it.

30. Be more alert.

31. Stop compressing yourself and allow yourself to take up your full allotment of space in the world.

32. Age vibrantly.

33. Look taller.

34. Prevent injuries.

35. Resolve physical ailments like Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, TMJ, athsma, headaches, etc.

36. Learn to get more done by expending less effort.

37. Improve your golf game.  (Or tennis, soccer, judo....)

38. Experience self-acceptance.

39. Become a quicker learner.

40. Cultivate patience.

41. Allow for free emotional expression.

42. Get unstuck.

43. Improve your ability to listen and to communicate.

44. Develop stage presence.

45. Quell anxiety.

46. Practice non-judgment.

47. Allow for the unimpeded flow of energy (life force) within you.

48. Stop storing tension in your muscles.

49. Find non-surgical, non-pharmaceutical ways to heal yourself.

50. Be a healthy role model for your children to imitate.

Many people have the misconception--and I have to admit to my own deeply ingrained version of this misconception--that the Alexander Technique is about relaxing.  Don't we all want to live with the minimal amount of muscular effort?  The answer, perhaps surprisingly, is not really.  At least, not minimal effort in the way most of us mean these words.

There are actually at least two different kinds of effort that we employ as we go about our activities.  One is familiar: it's the effort we expend to perform various actions.  We expend effort to lift a stone, to sing a note, to walk across the room.   The other kind of effort goes largely unrecognized for most of us: it's the "background" effort that supports our bodies in response to gravity.  It takes a certain amount of energy to be upright to varying degrees in standing or sitting or even lying on a couch.  (Dr. Wilfred Barlow, one of the first teachers trained by Alexander, attibutes to him "a vision of a way of life in which the body was to be used well and actively during even the most sedentary of pursuits."  [Italics mine])

I'm beginning to tune in to the inverse relationship between these two types of effort.  It seems that if I expend a little more energy to organize myself into a more dynamic uprightness, I actually need to expend a lot LESS energy to perform the lifting of stones and singing of notes, etc, that make up my daily activities.

Of course, this extra effort has to be wielded intelligently.  Just pulling myself up with blind force creates interference, not ease.  (This is what generally happens when people try to "sit up straight.")  Employing Alexander's principles helps me to invoke the strongly supportive system of oppositional muscle forces in my body--an available resource that it's easy to neglect.  But if this system of forces is not activated, I have to use far more "local" effort to lift things and move.  (Local as opposed to global; I have to tense my biceps, say, to lift a book, rather than letting my whole body cooperate in this effort.)

When I think of relaxation as the goal, I am reluctant to expend the beneficial effort to bring about the oppositional forces that can support me and make all my activities easier.  With this much vitality of energy coursing through my whole body, it can feel as though I am working harder just to be here--and in a way I am.  (Every activity becomes a whole-body toning exercise--I especially notice more engagement of my abs.)  I have to remember that the energy savings will accrue as I begin to move and to do things, which will take less effort.

Sometimes, I do like to let down completely, relinquishing my oppositional energy for true relaxation.  After a yoga class, for example, I may spend a few minutes in corpse pose, releasing as much muscle tension as I can.  But I need to remember to "turn on" my oppositional support system before moving out of this pose, or I risk exerting effort unwisely, putting local strains on my body and potentially injuring myself.

Alexander developed a procedure--which he rather unimaginatively named "hands on back of a chair"--to develop a person's sense of oppositional organization in activity.  (I hope to make a video about HOBOC soon.)  Ask me to explore this procedure with you at your next lesson. . .learn how to tone your abs while you work at the computer!

One of my students came in for his lesson this week with a fascinating account of how he had become aware of a set of habits associated with seeing pretty girls on the street.   This seeing-a-pretty-girl habit pattern included muscular tensions that interfered with his freedom of movement.  We discussed various ways he could address these habits, from removing the stimulus altogether by maintaining a more internal focus--with the unfortunate result that he would not get to see pretty girls--to applying the principles of the AT to the situation, allowing a new kind of response to evolve.

Since this lesson, I have become more aware in walking around the City of having a set response myself to encountering various types of sensory stimuli.  I seem to have developed sterotypical responses to seeing cute dogs, overweight police officers, and trash lying in the street; of hearing sirens, a British accent, and Madonna songs; of smelling pizza, hyacinths, and homeless people.  My habitual responses include physical elements, like forming my mouth into a certain shape or tightening to pull up my chest, and mental elements--these are what really astounded me--like thinking "Oh, what a cute puppy!" or "Mmmmmmmmm" or "Is that policeman really going to be able to help me if something goes down?"

The astounding part is how similar my thoughts were every time I encountered a particular kind of stimulus.  I realized that instead of allowing myself to notice how a new situation, object, or person could affect me, I mentally assigned the situation, object, or person to a pigeon-hole category and called up a stored response from my mental archives.  So before I could experience that pug puppy for what it is, I was running my "Oh what a cute puppy!" program, thus preventing myself from noticing what unique about this particular puppy.   Considering the limited range of response I was allowing myself, I might as well have been seeing the same puppy over and over. 

As unfortunate as it may be to not experience a puppy or a hyacinth for what it truly is in the moment, how much worse to stereotype a person, whether it be a chubby policeman, a sexy athlete in tight running shorts, or a mother pushing a stroller.  And yet I find that I have a set response to all these "types" and more.  I find it unpleasant to recognize that I have distilled an entire person into a body weight, or a uniform, or a nice set of abs, or any other characteristic.  And I find it unsatisfactory to not allow myself an authentic range of response IN THE MOMENT to all these stimuli.

How much of my life has been half-lived by recycling old responses?

To create some change, I have been exploring applying the principles of the AT to my walks around the neighborhood.  INHIBITION has been particularly helpful: if I (initially) withold consent from having any response at all to seeing a person on the street, I can block the habitual response from arising long enough to enable the current situation to register authentically on my whole system.  When I go through this process, I create an atmosphere of non-judgment; I feel less inclined to assign people and things to existing categories or to rate them according to my inner scale of sexiness, smelliness, or worthiness. 

Granted, this way of experiencing  requires more of me: I can no longer walk around half-aware, allowing my prior judgments to take the place of seeing, feeling, noticing what is happening right now.  But when I commit to this process, I've noticed that it leaves me feeling more peaceful and gives me a sense of connectedness with the world around me.  It's also more interesting--I'm noticing more and more details about everything, including myself.

 

 

At the left is a picture of my first seed-grown flower of 2007--a marigold--which bloomed today!

It seemed appropriate to include this image in this posting because I feel as though the Master Cleanse detoxification I've been on for the past 9 days has allowed me to bloom as well.  (You may have heard of this program under the name "lemonade diet.") 

When beginning this cleanse, I did not expect that the benefits would extend to my awareness, my sense of being.  I have been infused with a sense of peacefulness, which has both physical and mental components.  My relationship with time has evolved as well--even though I seem to be accomplishing more in each day, I feel as though time has slowed down, giving me ample opportunity to observe my own responses to stimuli before choosing a course of action.

This sounds just like the Alexander Technique--in fact, I've noticed that in my teaching during the past week I have been able to stay more consistently to principle.  I have observed more with my eyes and with my hands, heard more clearly what my students were saying, inhibited many unnecessary comments and actions, and modeled Alexander's principles more clearly in my own behavior.  It has been much easier to choose a course of non-action in response to stimuli, and to allow the time for more creative and intelligent ideas and responses to arise.  (Although this extra time has felt luxuriously prolonged, I'm sure that the pauses have ranged from less than a second to a few seconds.  I am fascinated by this new ability to seemingly step out of the normal framework of time and plan my responses--it reminds me of science fiction!)

I wonder if other people doing the Master Cleanse have experienced similar phenomena, or if my personal experience has been influenced by my long-standing association with the Alexander Technique.  Anyone out there have an idea?

I am also wondering if my "super-powers" will fade once I go off the fast.  (I'm planning to do only 10 days, since this is my first time.)  Perhaps if I choose the right foods once I'm back to eating, I will be able to perpetuate these Alexander-enhancing effects.

Shall I recommend this program to all my students?  I never before considered the role food plays in our ability to concentrate, focus awareness, inhibit, and direct.  Perhaps I'm reverting to a more natural state, in which I tend to respond to stimuli in an Alexandrian way.  Perhaps it is only our toxic culture, including our toxic foods, which make us need the Alexander Technique.   Seems like something to think about for a long time to come. . . .

The skill I've developed through my Alexander work in manifesting intentions paid off in an unexpected way today. 

I have been running with my dog, Freddy, for a few months now.  Several times a week, we jog down to the river park along the Hudson and back--perhaps 3-4 miles in all.  Freddy is faster than me and has far more stamina (who knew Chihuahuas were so athletic?), so he always tended to run a bit ahead, barking all the while.  I interpreted this behavior as wanting to go faster and greeting everyone we passed.

Yesterday I began reading a book by the "Dog Whisperer," Cesar Millan, on dog psychology and training, Cesar's Way, and learned enough to realize that Freddy was running ahead of me because he considered himself the alpha dog in our "pack" and he was barking to alert his pack of perceived threats--bikes, buses, other dogs and runners, etc.

This morning, I changed my intentions for our run.  I decided to actively take on the mantle of alpha dog, designating myself the leader in my own mind and taking the responsibility for alertness and judgment that comes with this role.   I noticed that the change in my thinking brought about an immediate if slight change in my carriage and my confidence, which Freddy apparently picked up on. 

Today on our run, without my having to give any commands or corrective tugs of the leash, Freddy stayed slightly behind me and automatically changed his pace to match mine whether I was running fast or slow, walking, or pausing altogether.  He barked about one third as much as usual, and the barks were quieter and less insistent than usual.  Most surprising was his behavior when we passed other dogs walking with their owners.  Instead of his usual mad scramble to approach the dogs and sniff and play, he ignored them--as I was modeling--and continued silently following me.

Cesar Millan reintroduced me to a concept I know deeply from my years of Alexander study: "energy and power can be focused and controlled.  Biofeedback, meditation, yoga, and other relaxation techniques [and the Alexander Technique!!!] are excellent for learning about how to control the energy you project....  Learning to  harness the power of the calm-assertive energy within you will also have a positive impact on your own mental health--and on your relationships with the humans in your life."

See what happens today if you decide to take on the role of alpha dog.  (You can try this even if there are no dogs in your life.)  Just decide to be what Cesar calls calm-assertive: "A calm-assertive leader is relaxed but always confident that he or she is in control."  You can pretend to be someone who has these traits--Oprah, James Bond, or Rin Tin Tin--if you don't think you possess them yourself.

Let me know about your experience in a comment to this blog entry.

 

Many of my students have asked me what they can do at home to practice the Alexander principles. I get the impression that they are expecting me to assign them some sort of exercise--the Alexander equivalent of scales for the pianist or stretches for the runner. But the Alexander Technique invites us not to DO something new, but to UNDO our unnecessary tensions. How on earth do you practice NOT doing?

The best way I know to practice not doing is to lie down on the floor and. . .well. . .do nothing. Alexander himself advocated this procedure, which has become known to us teachers of the technique as “constructive rest” or simply “lying down work.”

All you’ll need to engage in constructive rest is 10-20 minutes in a quiet spot, a little patch of floor (either carpeting or some sort of mat can increase your comfort), and a few paperback books to put under your head. In the video clip below, I demonstrate the proper “semi-supine” body position for the procedure, which allows for maximum undoing of unnecessary tension. I explain how to determine the right number of books to use and show you one way to get down on the floor and back up again without creating excessive strain in your body. Most importantly, I review the thinking process you’ll employ, which makes the difference between just nap time and truly constructive rest.

(Note: The thinking process I describe in the video clip uses generic language which applies to everyone. When you come for lessons, I’ll customize this language to suit your particular needs and add to it as your skill develops.)

Please watch the video clip before continuing to read the Q&A which follows.

Constructive Rest on Vimeo

Can I do constructive rest on a couch or bed?

That would be better than not doing it at all, but a firm surface like a floor (or the table you lie on in your lessons) gives clearer kinesthetic feedback and will not accommodate itself to the habitual shape of your spine, which we are trying to change.

What’s the best time to do constructive rest?

Anytime you can make the time. I love using it to give my back a rest after I’ve been at the computer for a long time or to realign myself after an uncomfortable bus ride. I use it to calm my nerves before singing or speaking engagements, or whenever my mind is racing or feeling over-stimulated. Constructive rest prepares your mind and body beautifully for a restful night’s sleep, too.

What benefits can I expect?

You might notice after a single session that you feel calmer and more relaxed, invigorated and refreshed, and maybe even a little bit taller as gravity assists the lengthening of your spine. If you make constructive rest a daily habit, profound physical and mental benefits will accumulate over time: You’ll bring about a reduction of excess tension and a beneficial reorganization of your whole body. If you have back or neck pain, it will likely be helped by constructive rest. You’ll also increase your ability to think productive thoughts to your body in any situation, allowing you to operate closer to your full potential. You will learn a more productive state of body and mind to live in--more aware, more focused, less stressed.

I suck at this! My mind just wanders and I get bored and fidgety.

I know the feeling well! At first, your brain will rebel against this activity. You will find your thoughts straying from your Alexander thinking to just about anything else--from what you’ll have for lunch to how your boss pissed you off at the last meeting to those cracks in the ceiling that suddenly seem so interesting. Just gently bring yourself back to the constructive rest activity and continue. You will need to do this perhaps several times a minute at first, but less and less often as your skill develops. Start with shorter periods--try 2 minutes if 10 minutes seems interminable. Adopt an attitude of patience and self-acceptance, and always remember that anything you practice will get better over time.