My urge to escape has been strong over my northern summer - it's an old feeling, and comes around as regular as the summer heat. Like the heat, strong every time. It leads me, sometimes profitably, to ask:

What can I clear out of my life?

Of course my answer is usually focused on my point of greatest stress: "The demands of others. The needs of my biz. The stack of bills on the table." Just a tad of deep thinking puts that delusion to rest - I created these, I hold these in my mind. I stress me, no-one else.

"Thinking is the hardest work there is, which is probably the reason why so few engage in it."
Henry Ford.

There's a sultry breeze blowing through from Tokyo right now, and looking out, I can see evidence of autumn coming. Fallen leaves and my own planning for the new term.

In Japan, September is the beginning of the cultural time. There are concerts, dance companies are visiting, all kinds of events are being announced to attract people. What happens in your country? Is this a "beginning" time in your market?

It fascinates me how I avoid deeply thinking through some subjects.

I first noticed this years ago during the frustrating years of not having a Japanese accountant who spoke English. For several YEARS (!) it irked me that I could not communicate with the accountant I had - but looking at the maze of incomprehensible Japanese websites, I despaired of being able to find anyone.

Then one day I just decided: fix this thing.

I was within my sadness for over 6 months, yet my girlfriend at the time described my mood as “exquisite”. She loved being around me while I was in that state.

What was she talking about!?!

Yet, I had the same experience of me.

It was exquisite to be there: I was with me, totally. I wasn’t going anywhere.

"How many weeks in your year?" he asked me.

(Huh? What's he talking about?) "Well… 52 of course."

"So your biz is open over Christmas and New Year?"

"Um. No. We close"

"So your year is not 52 weeks is it?"

Welcome to my first session on how to run my business.

We are sitting at a cramped table in the noisy Sailors Café, just outside Ebisu station in Tokyo. It is 2006. Grace was two, Angelica five. My method of running my biz up to this point had been rushing to the ATM to see if I had any spare cash. It wasn't working real well…

It was August 1988, the year of the Brighton Congress and the first time Marj had stepped on to the shores of England since (she said): "…the Germans came and went."

I'd been an Alexander Technique teacher for 8 years, now suffering a humiliating and debilitating injury: I could hardly pick up a cup of tea in my left hand. Three months earlier my father had died; and just before arriving at the Congress, I had dislocated my left shoulder while rock climbing in Sweden.

There's a story that I have never been able to confirm through search, and my memory is fuzzy on the facts, but it comes from a credible source, so I will repeat it because I love it so much.

In the past, there were many books that were unknown, but still sold way more copies over time than a New York Times Best Seller. These were books sold by long sales copy to a precisely selected market through a direct mail campaign. This is long before the advent of Amazon.

I've been meditating on the nature of failure lately, as I have had my good share.

What causes failure?

Personally, I've learnt that it is my stubborn-mindedness and courageous defiance in the face of overwhelming facts. Ironically, these two same qualities are drivers of my success. I push my Self to a brink, then either fly or fall.

Most people don't want to live like this, but since my own brush with death at an early age, I've lived recklessly and wildly, carrying a deep-hearted death wish glossed over by verve.

Are Yoga, Pilates and other “fitness” schemes so different from Alexander Technique?

Alexander Technique teachers suspect they are fundamentally different, but for the public it appears that all these methods, including ours, utilize the study of movements to improve posture, cure pain, and bring about well being with greater awareness. Our outcomes appear to match - even if our methods are different - so our claim that “we are not like them” falls on deaf ears.

It was constant worry.

I don't see anything!

How can I teach in activities, when I don't notice anything to work with? These thoughts were often running through my mind as I began shifting my teaching from "Alexander-is-a-feeling" into "Alexander-is-how-you-think".

Then I realised - how ridiculous.