They are in the place of not knowing.
When your Alexander teacher puts her hand on your neck, she immediately alters your balance. Throughout the lesson, as you follow her instructions, you are challenging and temporarily setting aside deep seated habits of moving and being. Easy enough to set something aside - the problem is, how do you find something else to put in its place?
The result is confusion, a sense that you don't know how to walk, or get up from a chair, or lift your arm.
I've experienced this myself - I spent the early weeks of my training miserably convinced that everyone on the street was laughing at my strange way of walking - and seen it in AT students. When we start chair work, it's quite usual for the person to just sit in the chair when it's time for them to get up, saying,'But I'm not quite sure how to do this!'
There's also an inexplicable sense of strangeness; we're aware that something is different, we're not sure what, and we're not even sure if this difference is good or bad. We can't make out because it feels... well, different!
The best way to deal with this disorientation is to welcome it, to remind ourselves that it's all part of the process, and to take an attitude of,'Well now, isn't that interesting! Let's see what happens next!'
A lot of our discomfort is cultural - we've been conditioned to value confidence and security, even in our classrooms, and of course, these two are the first casualties when real learning happens.
Once we're able to let go of the need to be comfortable and right all the time, we can relax, and enjoy the process that we have set in motion. We stop worrying about when the bad back is going to get better, or when we can work at the computer without getting pain in the wrists.
We forget to worry because the discoveries we're making everyday are so fascinating.
Welcome to the place of not knowing.
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