When I think about FM Alexander trying to solve his voice and breathing problems back in the late 1800s, I’m always struck by the sheer rigour of his reasoning. As an actor, he noticed that his breathing became audible and raspy on stage, and sometimes he lost his voice entirely by the end of a performance.
Whilst Doctors could find no injury or illness, eventually FM (as he was known) reasoned that it must be something he was doing with himself that created the problem. He started off fine in a performance, then things deteriorated. Something changed in him during the process of his time on stage. Something he was doing to and with himself changed which contributed to and caused these voice and breathing problems to occur.
So he set himself up with mirrors and began to study himself scientifically. He observed. He hypothesised. He tested. He revised. He honed his ability to notice how his thinking influenced his movement patterns, and how – even when he believed he was doing “the right thing” – his body had slipped back into his familiar habits.
What amazes me is his dedication to solving this conundrum, fuelled by his passion for acting. This took months of trying, failing, starting again.
He didn’t discover the first domino in the chain for him going wrong whilst performing for some time, but like any good scientist, he kept looking.
If he only tried to change his body’s movements, it didn’t actually change his habit, which resurfaced and took hold of him again and again.
One of the biggest obstacles he faced was the conflict between what he saw in the mirror and what he felt in his body. He called this “faulty sensory appreciation” or the more Victorian phrase “debauched kinesthesia.” What we feel is right, isn’t always right. He saw the truth of the gap between what he thought was happening and what was actually happening. This was a very important discovery.
Our early experiences as kids shape our sense of what feels right or normal, eg I’m hungry, I’m cold, I’m sad. And over time that sense of the truth of our body sensations can be adapted to fit in with schedules and our care-givers resources eg “No you can’t be hungry, it’s not dinner time”, or “You can’t be cold, I’m so hot” or “Cheer up, it might never happen” (have you ever heard or said any of these well-intentioned phrases?) This kind of feedback from others can drift away from what is actually happening and steer us towards a mis-match between our sense of ourselves and what is allowed in our family / school / society.
So when we turn towards ourselves with curiosity – seeking the truth about our movement patterns, wanting to get out of pain or learn to function better – we can thank FM for his patience in front of those mirrors. He discovered that we can use conscious control within the process of movement, rather than trying to impose control on the movement.
“Control should be in process, not superimposed.” — FM Alexander, Teaching Aphorisms, #4
This morning, I found myself using this same scientific process while vacuuming before my first client of the week. If I were only interested in “getting the job done,” I’d move the dirt first, the machine second, and myself third. Sounds reasonable, yes? That’s one way. But when I think about my coordination first, my movements second, and the equipment and task third – everything changes. My experience of myself, the task, of moving through life itself is more like a dance, than a chore.
I prime my central axis of support (my back / spine) with only my thinking and this helps me move myself and then the cumbersome vacuum with more ease. The dust still goes up the tube, the dirt still disappears, and my back remains unbothered. I’m using myself “in such a way” that I’m taking care of my overall coordination while still getting the job done. No back pain, no strained joints, no chipped furniture. This is me living FM’s aphorism: control in process, not superimposed.
I’m not applying scientific methodology in a laboratory. I’m applying it in my hallway and teaching room. It’s a process that has stood the test of time – 150 years and counting – and it continues to shape how I move through my daily life. If you have any questions, comments or counter ideas, please write and let me know.