Tag Archives: #resound11

Continuing to Resound – #resound11

St. Augustine writing, revising, and re-writin...

For this, the first blog post of 2012, I’m revisiting the old “looking backward, looking forward” theme. Last year had many challenges, and its share of unhappiness and struggle. However, it was also sprinkled with miracles, fortuitous turns — yes, blessings. As objectively as I can assess it one day removed, 2011 WAS a good year. And 2012 will be even better!

From the point of view of this blog, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the generators of writing prompts that inspired me:  #reverb 10, #reverb11, and #resound11.  Many more readers found my writing this year than would have otherwise if I had not put myself and my work “out there” (wherever “there” is) in this way.  I wrote almost 200,000 words in 2011.  Whew!  Do I feel a pressure to surpass that in 2012?  Maybe a little.

However, realistically and philosophically (and in an added bonus, supported by the evidence of my past performance) I know that “more” is not necessarily “better.”  There’s way too much pompous bloviating in the world, and I’m loathe to contribute to that.  I write for myself, for my own enjoyment and reflection.  I am thrilled when others find me and sometimes resonate with my point of view.  But that’s the bonus, not the major payoff.

I didn’t write every day in 2011, nor on every day of #resound11.  Perhaps having the goal of a weekly post is more do-able for 2012 — and it’s a goal that I can easily overachieve.  The daily discipline has never been something I have had much luck with.  I am content to move closer and closer to that ideal.  But something very curious happened during December 2011.  As I reflected and wrote, I found myself becoming more engaged with my own life, off the computer and away from the screen. My usual holiday blues never arrived! This year, I had no time for the emptiness I felt in the past.  I didn’t just fill it up with junk.  It filled itself with better ideas and actions.  2011 held the happiest holidays I have experienced in many, many years.

So, here’s the list of links to my posts from #resound11.  Thank you for dropping by, for reading, and for commenting.  I’m going to keep writing, and writing often.  For me, it is a creative action that renews itself, and me, the more I do it. Take that, 2012!

Resound! 2011/12/01

One Word 2011/12/01

Vices 2011/12/02

Virtues 2011/12/03

Superpower 2011/12/04

Work in Progress 2011/12/05

Friendship 2011/12/07

Catch Phrase 2011/12/08

More 2011/12/11

Best Meal 2011/12/11

12 Things 2011/12/12

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More – #reverb11

What do you wish you had done more of in 2011?

 

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In 2011, I did not travel as much as I have in recent years.  Even though I had good reasons for staying home, I found that I really missed it.

 

I financed two eye surgeries this year, so that is where my funds were allocated.  I skipped the annual conference by my professional association partly for that reason, but mostly because the program just didn’t excite me.  Then, the music festival I had taught at the previous two summers suspended their operations for this year, so that removed another opportunity.

 

Staying home was the right thing to do.  It was wise and prudent.  I also found that I have come to rely on spending a couple of weeks away from home.  The travel recharges my internal emotional and creative “batteries.”   In 2012, I am planning several trips for continuing education, as well as an occasional weekend getaway.  I am also open to the possibility of accepting some out-of-town gigs and expanding my horizons in that way. I look forward to new found “get up and go” potential in the new year!

 

[I am blogging daily (ish) during December as part of #reverb11 and #resound11. Join us here.]

 

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Catch phrase – #resound11

What is your trademark phrase, or a quote or saying that you repeat often?

Via allstarpuzzles.com

My normal schedule throughout the year is to teach four or five Awareness Through Movement classes each week.  I enjoy it because the vocabulary is rich and varied, and I tell my students that “in this class, you’ll always be doing something a little strange. . .”  However, if you were to make a “word cloud” out of one of my lessons, I think the biggest one would surely be

NOTICE.

Not a catch phrase, really — more of an invitation.  Each part of a lesson is like a tiny experiment, or like inventing a recipe.  You add an ingredient, and then “taste it” to see if it what you intended, or if you like it, or if it is interesting.  And then you continue, based on that new information.  In Awareness Through Movement, you are asked to experiment with very gentle, yet non-habitual movements — and then afterwards, to pause and “taste the recipe:”  NOTICE how you feel now.  Notice what is different.  Notice what you sense. Notice what you notice. It’s a very subtle and gentle practice of paying attention, learning to pay attention both specifically and more broadly.

This process is remarkable, and enjoyable.  Through the lessons, people feel less stressed, or move with less pain, or gain better posture (among a slew of other physical benefits).  But more deeply and more importantly, I think, is that they learn how to surprise themselves once again. They learn how to appreciate and enjoy small things.  They become more patient and compassionate and sensitive, with themselves and others.  They discover new capacities and enlarge their thinking to include new ideas and possibilities.  And it all starts with “NOTICE.”

What do you notice?  Please leave a comment.

[I am posting daily (ish) during December as part of #reverb11 and #resound11.  Join us here.]

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Friendship – #resound11

I started writing last night and had to stop. My thoughts were a jumble at the end of the day, and as I tried to get organized, I tapped into some deep emotions — sadness, aloneness, and a strange agitation.

This morning, things look brighter. As I reflect on friendship in the light of day, I feel blessed to have many friends. My friendships are all authentic — meaning, at what ever level of intimacy or familiarity, the enjoyment of time together is genuine and valued.

As I think of current friendships, my upstairs neighbors are probably at the top of the heap. We’ve been through a hurricane together, for Pete’s sake! They are the ones you’d borrow a cup of sugar from, or a corkscrew, or call after a traffic accident, or to bail you out of jail (hypothetically, of course!). It’s not a matter of quantity of time spent with them, but the quality of that time.  My business partners, Paul and Julie, are right up there, too.   I have known them for 10 years now, and it’s hard to express how much I appreciate their friendship and support.

Likewise, my BFF soul-mates, partners in crime across the miles, are people from my own Feldenkrais training in Chicago, now almost 10 years ago. A few are in my inner circle: Craig, Ger, Diane, Kristine. Carla, Joanna, Scott, Christiana, Therese, Dan,Terri. Marian, Ellen, Phyllis, and everyone. Regardless of the frequency of contact, there is a bond and a love there that is extraordinary. I would do anything for any of my “litter mates” from that experience — and I think they would for me, as well.

In this era of social media, it’s so interesting to see which friends from high school have reconnected. It is liberating to be almost 40 years out and free from the bullshit drama of growing up, settled in lives and relationships and careers. I find that now, as then, there is an affinity, a shared history and sense of humor, a context, and an appreciation for them as people. I think if we lived close to each other, we would once again choose each other as friends.

I know how friendships come and go, ebb and flow, fall away, intensify. Friendship has never felt solid, or like a “sure thing” to me. People change, they move away, they die.  I have changed, and moved away, changed status, job, economic bracket — and some friendships, however treasured, turn out to be “location specific.” Nothing is forever, and love and loyalty can’t make it so. For this reason, my friendships are precious to me, right now.

Perhaps that is why, last night, I felt sad and alone. Who are my friends? Who can I let in? Am I really fending for myself in the world? Is there anyone I truly trust? In the dark, I’m not so sure. In the daylight, I can see all the past, current, and prospective friends, and be grateful for them.

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Work in Progress – #resound11

[Today's writing prompt was provided by my friend, Twitter buddy, and fellow #reverb11 #resound11 enthusiast, Head Pickle.]

What’s your take on being a Work in Progress?

English: Stylized and exaggerated picture of t...

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I believe that to view oneself and one’s life as a Work in Progress is the most profoundly hopeful, creative, joyful,  realistic, and compassionate view possible.  I can’t remember when I truly embraced this attitude, but I’ll bet it came along as I got deeper and more committed in my practice and study of the Feldenkrais Method.

You see, this Method is about learning: learning how to figure things out for oneself, learning to be curious and to look for new possibilities.  The Method does not demand that anything be done “perfectly,” especially not the first time you attempt it.  The Feldenkrais Method has some wisdom in it, helping people to discover that in the fruitless pursuit of perfection, you NEVER get there — the goalposts always move.  And so, our purpose is improvement.  ”The potential for improvement is infinite,” as Dr. Moshe Feldenkrais said.

Feldenkrais also said, “Everything that is learned, we learn by successive approximations.”  Successive approximation means that you give something a go, and then see how it went.  On the next go, you do it a little differently, learning from the first go to see if it will be better.  On the next go, if it was better, you tweak what you are doing again to keep improving.  If it wasn’t better, you change course and try another approach. And, you keep going. This process is experimental and exploratory.  It is basically the Scientific Method, applied to life.  You have an idea what the result *might* be, but you don’t know until you try.  The goal is not perfection (perfection of what?), but understanding, knowledge, getting just a bit closer to the idea you have.  This way of learning is engaging, motivating, and enjoyable.

Think about a baby learning to walk.  She rises to her feet with delight, and wobbles for a moment, a look of glee on her face.  Then she sits back down.  After a few dozen or hundred re-enactments of this, learning and refining each time, she is able to lift one foot off the floor (requiring a complex sensory operation of transferring all her weight to the other foot), takes a step — and falls down.  Repeat another few hundred times, and eventually, she walks.  No baby ever gives up on learning how to walk!

It is easy to forget that we all went through this process; and that there was about a year of process leading up to the moment of standing, that included lifting your head, rolling over, sitting up, coming onto one knee, crawling. . .  And no parent stands before their about-to-toddle child and says, “You could do better!  Is that the best you can do?  What’s wrong with you?  You’re embarrassing me, walking that way!”  Parents don’t sign their kids up for “remedial walking lessons.” No.  We find the baby’s exploratory process utterly fascinating, charming, amazing.  We honor the process, confident that she will figure it out eventually.

Why don’t we honor our selves in the same way?

As we grow into adulthood and become more integrated into family and society, we become enmeshed in the expectations of others.  It seems like as soon as a kid can walk, we stop valuing the learning process, and they become fair game for criticism.  Many people’s first feelings of shame and inadequacy date back to early childhood, when they felt that they had fallen short of some expectation by a parent or other teacher.

Dr. Brené Brown writes and speaks about perfection and shame for a living. To paraphrase one small bit of her shared wisdom:  she says it is tempting to hold your child in your arms and be completely consumed with the perfection of this little one, and to see your job as a parent to protect them and keep them perfect. Brené says, that’s not your job at all.  Realize that this child is hard-wired for struggle, destined to find their own way.  Your job as a parent is to love them all the way, as they work through it.

Each child is a work in progress, and come to think of it, so is each adult.  To be willing to learn and fail occasionally (“there is no failure, only information”), knowing that it WILL BE BETTER next time, makes us resilient and hopeful for the future.  The Feldenkrais Method has helped me to embrace and embody this resilience, and to share it with others.

This “Work in Progress” thing goes both ways.  I don’t get a “PASS” on the perfection requirement while I hold you to it.  This part is harder.  However, approaching life as a series of learnings, and that everything is learned by successive approximations, makes for a much happier and higher-functioning existence.

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Vices – #resound11

Did you slip back into any old habits that you wish you hadn’t? Did you gain any new habits that you wish you would have walked away from? Did you discover the evils of Nutella? ‘Fess up … we won’t tell.

Cropped screenshot of Mae West from the traile...

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“Vice” is such a good, old-fashioned word.  Juicy and judge-y, you know it’s gonna be good.

I’m reminded of the quote by Mae West (although it is often attributed to Helen Gurley Brown). “Good girls go to heaven — bad girls go everywhere.”  Well, I’ve always wanted to go everywhere. I love a little innocent mischief, and all the pleasures of the flesh — in moderation. So alas, no vice for me.  I’m too active with a busy practice and happy home front at this stage of life to have the luxury of vice and debauchery.  But habits?  NOW we can talk!

My work as a teacher of the Feldenkrais Method, is, in large part, about recognizing habitual patterns of action:  one’s own first, and then those of others.  A habit is not necessarily a “vice.”  Moshe Feldenkrais said that habits are good, as long as you can break them whenever you want.  Funny, isn’t it?  We try to develop “good habits” over the course of a lifetime, and to eliminate or break the “bad habits.”  Whether the habit is judged to be good or bad, more important to me is the element of mindlessness.

Is mindlessness a sin, or a vice?  I guess it depends on the vocabulary you are comfortable with.  As far as “doing things I wish I hadn’t,”  well, sure.  And the characteristic they all share is mindlessness.  That automatic, without-thinking-clearly, default, knee-jerk, “why am I doing this when I know it doesn’t work?” state that is too often recognized in my metaphorical rear-view mirror.

My worst habit is worry and fretting, triggered in one very specific field of my attention.  In almost every other domain of life, I am action oriented, and recognize worry as an ineffective strategy and a time-waster.  However, with great regularity, I begin to fret.  My fretting takes me out of action and gratitude, and throws me into fear.  And when I am in fear – no bueno.

This fear and frustration launches a tired old story in my head, about couldawouldashoulda, and ain’t-it-so-hard, and gigantic pity party.  And I have to watch myself and hear myself inside my head, and say, “Cut it out!”  The sooner I change my frame of thinking, the less damage I do.

I’ll do almost anything to stay out of fear.  I’ll even muzzle myself and discount my needs and desires so as not to “rock the boat,” or piss people off, or make sure that a situation remains harmonious.  Those are reactive behaviors.  Mindless reactivity is the habit that I am now keenly aware of.  And awareness is the first open door. . .

Mindlessness is an auto-pilot.  I guess we all teach what we most must learn.  Mindlessness creeps in to eating, drinking, social interactions, movement through shared space — it’s freakin’ EVERYWHERE, once you start looking.  But it all starts right here.  Look no further.  It’s on the doorstep.

Feldenkrais brings me back to paying attention.  It brings me back to myself, helps me to come to my senses, and to feel effective in taking appropriate action when necessary.  With that mindfulness comes a growing compassion, for myself and for others.  That seems to be a pretty good foundation on which to begin a new year.

How about you?  Habits, patterns, mindlessness?  Please leave a comment.

[I'll be writing daily -- ish -- each day in December, as part of #resound11. Join us here.}

Resound!

Last year, I was inspired by an online community of bloggers in a daily writing practice called #reverb10.  Because of their influence and inspiration, I posted something reflective and expressive every day during December 2010.  Filled with new-found energy, I continued to post daily until mid-March.  I switched my daily practice to  750words.com,

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and kept it up for over 180 days!  Since then, my writing has just putted along.  What happened?

Well, I’ve found that I am just not constituted to do ANYTHING every single day, except perhaps brush my teeth.  There’s just something dissonant that I can’t put my finger on.  I love a routine until it becomes — routine. I embrace a discipline until it feels like punishment.  I simply ran out of gas. I learned that my writing is in response to my environment and its stimulus — and so I do need prompts (even if they send me ranting). Most of all, I want to retain my own power to choose, not to be  under compulsion to do something “just because.”  So for #resound11, I have embraced the freedom to do as I choose — which, like Dorothy’s ruby slippers, has been mine all the time.

Already, the old gang is assembling online.  This year I will be better organized to read other’s writings and respond to them.   In the presence of resounding expression and recognition of self and others, original voices will emerge.

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