Michael Frederick, (one of my very favorite mentors) was talking about the difference between Thinking and Awareness in an Alexander Technique class for actors the other day.  It’s a distinction that bears some exploration.

Thinking is an action that is linear in nature.  If I ask you to add two large numbers together, or ask you which route you take to work every morning, chances are you will pause, your facial muscles will contract ever so slightly, and your mind will take you out of the room as words and images move past your minds eye.  Thinking often has A LOT to do with the past or the future.  When my mind wanders away and I “think” about things, it usually has to do with things that have happened before this moment, or speculation about things that might be tomorrow.

Awareness is a vastly different state.  Awareness can only occur in the present moment, and generally has very little to do with words that are not being said or images that are not being seen right here right now.  Awareness invites us to see, hear, smell, taste, and feel.  Thinking asks us to compare what is being felt now to a previous feeling or supplies us with an expectation of a feeling yet to come. Awareness knows only the feeling being felt this time.

Both thinking and awareness are necessary and important.  After all, when you were a child and touched a hot stove for the first time, I imagine the pain got you to stop and think before you did it again.  Thinking helps us to develop likes and dislikes, aversions and attachments necessary for survival.  But in our western culture we spend far too much of our lives in thinking states. Thinking often hijacks a present experience by coloring it with judgment created in the past (how else can you define “baggage” brought into a new relationship?) 

Awareness however knows nothing of judgment and helps us to experience moments as they truly are, without the taint of what's come before.  This is why awareness is such an important component of the Alexander Technique.  How you are moving, speaking, working, writing, dancing in this moment is distinct and will be different than any other time in your life.  That’s exciting to me! Many students come to me with phrases like “I always lock my knees when I stand up”.  That may be what they think, what they have encountered in the past, but how can they be so sure that will happen this time?  What happens if they let go of whats happened before, come back to the present moment and a state of awareness and see?

Just because it feels normal or comfortable doesn’t make it good for us.  When you really look at a habit, you have to ask yourself “why do I do this?  Why does this feel ‘right’?”  Chances are, it feels ‘right’ because it’s what you always do when you're not thinking about it. 

So it might feel comfortable or ‘right’, but does it actually feel good? Does your habit, your way of thinking, your way of responding, or your way of moving make you feel light, easy and free?  If not, then maybe it’s time you examine why you do what you do. 

Lets take a simple example—something most us do all the time:  SLUMP.  Face it, most of us are slumpers.  I’m certainly guilty.  I do it because it feels comfortable. But slumping is detrimental and I know this.  It puts pressure on the nerve bearing part of my spine.  It causes lots of pain in my neck and low back if I do it often or for long periods of time.  If I’m being honest with myself, slumping is only comfortable because it’s habitual and because it’s what I do when I’m not aware of how I’m using myself.  Can it really feel good if it’s causing me pain?  No.  It’s my default for when I’m not taking the time to sit or move in the healthiest way possible.

So my slumping habit, when it comes right down to it, doesn’t really feel comfortable after all!  I live in my habits because I can go on autopilot with them.  I don’t have to think about them. 

Some habits in the way we think, respond, or use ourselves might not even seem like patterns or bad habits because of how normal they feel.  Take getting up out of a chair as another simple example.  Nearly everyone, without fail, will tighten their neck or collapse their chests in this activity, creating excess tension in their back and knees each and every time they go to stand.  Every time!  Go ahead and try it now.  Put your hand, very delicately at the nape of your neck and notice if you feel your head pull back and crunch your hand as you go to stand.   Feel it?  How many times a day would you say you sit or stand?  50?  100?  It’s a detrimental habit that is causing your body harm and didn’t even know you had it!

Our habitual responses aren’t just about the way we move.  They are about the way we move through our lives.  How am I responding to the traffic jam this afternoon on the 405?  Can I become aware of this habitual response, the tightness in my neck, the negative thinking, the anger that’s welling up inside me?  Can I stop and take a moment to notice that this is how I always react to traffic?  It feels normal.  It feels justified.  It feels right.  But if I’m being honest with myself I have to ask, “am I benefiting from this pattern?”

How do I change?  How do I stop this response?  First, I ask myself to free my neck and let go of the tightening in my body.  I observe that my jaw is clenched and I let it go. I notice my breath is tight and put my attention on it.  I come back to myself, and the present moment.

See, if I can catch myself pulling into my habitual pattern, if I can put just a moment of space in between the traffic jam on the 405 and my usual reaction to it, I can make room for a choice.  I can choose whether I am going to react in anger or in a new way that I haven't experienced yet.  I’m no longer a slave to my reactions.  If I can make room for choice, then I can make room for real change.

I hate doing dishes.  Can I just get that out of the way now?  Sweeping for some reason is weirdly relaxing to me.  Even cleaning windows has some satisfaction in it (when they’re really grimy I secretly pretend I’m doing a Windex commercial complete with voice-over).  But dishes I simply hate.

I’ve always liked reading about Zen.  I wouldn’t call myself a serious practitioner, but from the moment I was introduced to the idea of living in the now, it made real sense to me.  The practice of being here – not dwelling on the past and not harping on anxieties of the future is a brilliant way to live.  Letting go of my desire to categorize everything into “like” or “dislike” doesn’t serve me and my rational mind knows this.  So why is it so difficult to put into practice?  On those rare occasions when I have actually found myself in the here and now without judgment, experiencing the present moment for just a moment, I experience a bliss like no other.

So back to the dishes.  There is no rational reason I should hate doing the dishes.  It really isn’t all that different from the myriad of other ordinary activities that find their way into my daily life.  I’ve tried forcing myself to let go of this judgment “What’s your problem, Jenn!?  Stop it already.”  I’ve tried charming myself into liking it--convincing myself that, “look, dishes are fun!  Warm soapy water, soft sponge, lemon scent.  How nice!”  Doesn’t work.

So when I started practicing Alexander Technique, I was really shocked that my desire to categorize activities into like and dislike began to diminish.  I won’t pretend that wouldn’t rather be reading a romance novel on a beach somewhere, but by taking any and all activities as moments to release tension and allow for more freedom in my joints, I automatically throw myself into the present moment without trying to. 

That sounds nice, you say.  How's it done?  It's easier than you think. 

I start by giving myself permission to stop, just for a moment. This stopping is a fundamental piece of the puzzle.  If I go in full blast, with all my impatience and that negative but familiar response I have to doing the dishes, it's unlikely I can separate myself from my intense dislike towards the activity.  When I have taken a moment to stop and have given myself some space, I become aware of my neck, and allow it to be free and easy (which instantly makes my head feel lighter and my breath open up) before plunging my hands into the water.  I become aware of my arms over the sink, and I release any excess tension in my shoulders, elbows, and wrists, so that my fingers soften and lengthen as I make contact with the plate.  I think of my balance over my feet and of letting my knees gently release forward so that I am not locking or bracing, and suddenly my lower back begins to soften.  The activity becomes (almost) enjoyable because I am enjoying, in the moment, how my body is feeling. I don’t have worries about the past or future because I am experiencing the now.  In a few minutes the dishes are done. I didn't even have time to think about how much I hated them.