Once at breakfast, I remember being interrupted by a girlfriend pleading with me in an exasperated voice:

“What’s wrong with you this morning?”

I was genuinely surprised (and a little irritated).

“Nothing.” I lifted my eyebrows.

“Fine”, she re-joined “have it your way.”

I was fed up with this.

“What are you talking about!?”

To qualify for the Alexander lie test you must travel in cars (or buses/taxis), use a smart phone (or iPad/computer) and know about Alexander's discovery.

If you this true for you (?) then take the test:

1. Do you want to keep travelling in a car?
2. Do you want to keep using a smart phone?
3. Do you want to keep thinking about your head/spine relationship?

To pass this test you needed to answer an unequivocal yes to all three questions.

What did you feel when you woke up today?

How did you make sense of it?

You don’t need to make sense of your positive experiences – they are wonderful! It is the negative experiences you want to examine. When you experience a strong negative emotion, what do you do?

My guess is that you give this negative experience a name.

You call it “tired” or “worried” or “depressed” or “sad” – whatever. Words are called forth to give your experience a name.

Years ago I was having dinner in a restaurant in Paris with a dear friend of the time, when a serial killer in the guise of a French intelligence officer strolled over and, uninvited, began intruding on our dinner conversation.

"Your own body is a phantom, one that your brain has constructed purely for convenience."
V. S. Ramachandran

Last week in BodyChance, a woman wanted to explore bending.

It seemed like a simple activity. Even a little boring if I'm honest. Ho hum.

All about understanding the use of your legs: bending hips, knees and ankles. Blah, blah. She was interested, because when she bends, she hurts her back. She wanted to find an easier way. In her mind, this was a "physical" activity, not a "mental" one.

"What's the situation?" I asked.

***

The way my life has created itself leaves me more apart from my two daughters than physically present. My relationship to this reality has been a challenge. When I arrive back in Japan from a visit to them in Australia, I usually awaken the first day in my apartment with a vague sense of loss and longing. At first I didn't identify it clearly, then…

"OH. I miss my daughters."

Then I remembered a principle my teacher taught me: whenever I am feeling lonely, it is based on a mind that has drifted from the present to imaginary circumstances.

As T. S. Elliot put it:

Those who follow my blogs (sorry I write so many) will undoubtedly know that I compare Alexander's Discovery - in it's potentiality for revolutionary change - on par with the internet.

I am sure there are readers out there who believe I am bonkers. And they could be right. History will be the judge of that. Occasionally I do worry about that my Self…

Indeed, I suffer from delusional optimism. I think it's a trade secret of all entrepreneurs. Without it, we would give up. So let me enjoy a little of my optimism right now…

I awoke at 3.38am this morning (in horror as I checked my iPhone) knowing I was awake and that this was the end of sleep. I have a full day of teaching ahead (it's 8.10am now) and I felt anxious, troubled - without an ability to say: "It is this."

How many times have you awoken in this condition? Dreading the day ahead, wondering how to escape it? It has been awhile for me, but life has a wonderful habit of giving the lesson you need most, when you need it most. Time for me to learn more about me again.

My feeling within ATSuccess this week is that we can do away with Alexander Technique thank you very much, but NOT the work. The old man said it had to evolve, but into what? There's the rub - when it stops looking like what he did, the traditionalists worry. It's right that they worry, but not helpful to them, helpful to me. Why? I know I am doing something different when the feeling all around is "No - that is wrong." Hang on - isn't that exactly a indicator of change? (But not a good one I hear them yelling!)