How do you walk? 
When did you learn to walk?
Did you ever alter that way?
Do you limp? How?
 
I was a dancer and my feet were turned out all the time—like, even when I walked, I was doing ballet. And when I turned my feet in, I only turned my feet in—but whatever happens with the feet, affects the knees and hips—and, you guessed it, everything all the way up through my neck and head.

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When I've had hip, back, or even neck pain, there have been many reasons. And, I’ve learned also that pain in my back can be perpetuated by how I organize myself from the ground up.
 
The Feldenkrais Method®  isn’t about thinking yourself into the "right way" to move every part. Instead, it is a way of orienting attention, creating experiences and a quality of attention to those experiences, so that I can distinguish between what it feels like to walk well—powerful, soft, so easy that it is like someone else is walking me along--and what it feels like to walk my habitual pattern. I don’t always walk “perfectly”—Instead, I have many ways to walk to suit my shoes, the terrain, just like we all do.

The "magic" comes from the quality of my attention, the ability to sense, and the ability to play. Through these, I can find out what I am doing, and then I have the opportunity to accept myself as I am, while also expanding my possibilities.

At the coast, I had a plan. I’d hike from 3rd beach, on my own, camping one night in each place, and keeping a pace to arrive at the Hoh River. Then I would return.
I had chosen the pace, chosen everything about the hike.
And, as I humped past Giant’s Graveyard, towards Strawberry point, I became increasingly grumpy.
In my body, I felt heavy. My hips were beginning to ache.
I noticed an Eagle perched up on one of the rocky points out in the water. He was sitting. Just sitting.
I became more grumpy.
Continuing on, trudging in the sandy, rocky beach, I approached Strawberry Point, and again: an Eagle, sitting. Perched atop the tor, he was looking at the beautiful blue sky, and alternately napping.
I stopped.
Rebelliousness surged within me. Anger. Jealousy.
​Me, jealous of the Eagle.
I began to laugh. Here I was, self-directed, and completely behaving as though I’d been told “you must do this, in this way” and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to keep walking. I didn’t care about making it to the Hoh River.
I simply stopped. Who was I rebelling against? Myself. So compulsive to stick to the plan that I couldn’t even listen to my own system, until I was able to choose.
I chose: I relaxed, looked around. I enjoyed the view.
I set my tent and happily stayed put for the rest of the trip.

This self-imposed compulsion happens in movement too.
I remember “I had to” vacuum my son's bedroom. Every time, I would hurt afterwards—particularly in my back. 
Vaccum in hand, parts of me were forcing the issue, while parts of me were rebelling.
My hand pushed the handle.
My jaw was set against it.
My pelvis and hips were leaving the room—or certainly not contributing, as if by stillness they were keeping some part of myself free from having to do this chore.
That left my arm and upper back left to do the vacuuming--and that just was a recipe for pain. 
My physical body was not in agreement with my intended action. In fact, half of my intended to not vacuum at all, so I was literally and physically in conflict with my actions.

Does that mean I don't vacuum anymore? Nope. I found out that in order to really vacuum well, I need to be in agreement with it, with my whole self, that this is what I need to do.
Sometimes that is a shift from “should do” or “have to do” to “will do” and “need to do”—and sometimes it means really asking the question:

1. Is this mine to do?
2. How do I do this in a way that respects myself and my own boundaries?
3. How do I make this more enjoyable for myself, or, if not enjoyable, how do I stay present and move in a way that is in agreement with my intentions?

This is one of the many ways the Feldenkrais Method® informs my choices today.

How are you sitting?
Many of  us find ourselves in front of the computer, legs crossed, pretty much only active from the shoulders and neck up. 
The pelvis? Well, it may be locked if our legs are crossed: all our movement emerging from the low back bending. Our pelvis is left out completely. 
We wonder why our necks are sore, our backs are sore, and our shoulders are sore. 
I usually notice at this point that I am barely breathing, not that I need much breath to work on the computer--but that the muscles of my chest are frozen in a way to support my shoulders and neck in this seat I've chosen.
 
This very short lesson might give you some clues as to how to support your connection to the Earth through your feet, and how to incorporate your sitting bones to organize underneath you to support your work. 
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​Or, it could just be a lovely moment of connecting with yourself. What will you do with it?

https://vimeo.com/317107815

Stand at the counter. Feel the height of the sink, how far you stand away from it.
Notice how you reach into the sink. 
Are your knees straight? Or bent? 
How do you reach? Do you use your chest, or simply reach from the shoulder?
Do you bow your head and neck only? What about your chest?
Are you comfortable? Are you breathing? Would you stay still here and be able to breathe without effort?
If you've had a neck injury like whiplash, I would bet this is not your favorite activity. 

What I used to do all the time: If I look down only from my head and neck keeping my sternum (breast bone) aloft, as if I am standing tall, there is a conflict:  If I am trying to bend down, but my chest is up, I am going two opposing directions, creating 1. Neck pain and overuse; 2. Low back tension to help support me here, 3. Upper Back tension to hold me "erect".

What else is possible?
​My counter is often wet; I stand about 4 inches back from the counter, and find that the sink reaches me below my waist, around my hip bones.  That seems very low for me--and it used to be a problem. 
Now, I have many ways to reach into the sink.
Sometimes, I am fast, and think nothing of what I am doing. That used to mean only using my neck, and clenching my teeth. Headaches resulted from dishwashing. I've had many opportunities to learn other ways, though, so it is usually easy.
Today? I recorded a version of today's playing around with this. 

What to notice:
My trunk. Sometimes it is very quiet, usually when my neck is moving too much. Sometimes, I use my legs, and my whole body turns. You can tell when I am comfortable--it is quite obvious.

The roots of folding forward to reach the dishes:
The sternum, breast bone, is attached to the ribs with cartilage. The ribs attach to the spine. In order for me to bow effectively, the sternum can soften down towards the earth. That makes looking down easier, as it then comes from my whole spine. 


I also am aware of my contact with the earth, with the way I shift my weight, knees soft.

I know today, that much of my trunk movement is really coming from how I shift my weight in my pelvis, and how much I am using my whole spine. It was so much fun to play with keeping the glass still and moving my self around it.

What's true for you?