“Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.”
March 15, 2010 at 5:14 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a commentTags: Alexander Technique, Philosophy, Play
(Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 2)
An evening with Anne Battye: Friends Meeting House, London, 13th October 2010
By Hiranya Jayasinghe
My first encounter with the Alexander Technique was attending the weekend City Lit course, led by Brita Forsstrom, in January 2009. I had no specific motivation for attending, just a realisation that the technique is not something that can be book-learnt, it has to be experienced. Watching the “use” of other attendees – walking, sitting and standing – I became aware of the different “masks” they had on; the defence mechanisms that the technique could unveil, in order to reveal their “authentic selves”. By contrast, the teachers leading the weekend had a presence, a sense of poise and physical confidence which looked a lot like freedom.
Intrigued by the invisible iceberg beyond the surface, I embarked on an Alexander journey. Since then, after around 50 lessons, I have witnessed an increase in confidence, a “freeing” of my voice and have “grown” a full inch! This has given me a desire to train as an Alexander teacher, and it was with this mindset that I attended that AT Friends event on Tuesday 13th October.
The guest speaker, Anne Battye, had trained with Marjory Barlow, qualifying in 1964, and, unsurprisingly, possessed a wealth of experience and thinking which she generously poured out upon us. The evening was structured as a talk, followed by “hands-on” work, concluding with summing up discussion.
In her talk, Anne addressed the meaning of the phrases “to order” and “to give directions”. For her, “orders” are perceived as a command, an intention arising from a chaotic state and a choice to inhibit old habits. The “directions”, on the other hand, are like a recipe, a process towards an ordered state and a kind of centre-ing. She explained how, when she first started training, she had to give herself the “orders” without any expectation that anything would happen. Gradually, however, the words began to link up with her physical experience.
This reminds me of the three stages we go through when learning to ride a bicycle. First, our parent (the teacher) says the instructions “keep peddling” etc as we wobble along without stabilisers; later, we say the words to ourselves as reminders; eventually, the words become so internalised that our bodies respond to our intention to ride. We need, no longer, say the words out loud; the thought and the experience are one.
Following a “hands on” experimentation with these ideas, Anne led an interesting discussion on the “mean-ends” paradox. She explained that, “we must have ends, without ends we have no stimulus.” Nonetheless, our focus is on the “means”, those “directions” – to “free our necks”, “head to go forward and up”, and “back to lengthen and widen” – as steps, used almost like a mantra, which can bring us into a meditative (or ordered) state.
It is this philosophy which so fascinates me about the technique. During the “hands on” work, Anne reiterated, over and over, that we are always “going into the unknown”, rather than harkening back to an old or habitual experience of what those “directions” might bring about. A child-like state. The idea of experimenting, indeed playing, within a safe environment; of exploring the “infinite abyss” without fear of “getting it wrong.” In my opinion, it is in maintaining this “state of being” that the Alexander Technique truly has a gift to offer the world.
© Hiranya Jayasinghe 2009 (first published in the AT Friends eNewsletter March 2010)
Dalston Windmill
September 13, 2009 at 5:44 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a commentTags: Magic, Play, Poems
Walking up Dalston Lane
I came
To a Peace Mural
Colourful on the side of the wall
Amidst urban grey and scaffolding
Music playing
Many cultures
Faiths and none
“jobs not bombs”
Greenpeace
In the city
It must have been the Seventies
Step throught he wall
Back to Wonderland
A cornfield of gold]amidst
Dilapidated buildings
In the graffiti
A new art
Emergent
Windmill
Grinding flour into bread
A currency not metal and cold
Bartering as of old
Beers in glad bottles
No plastic here
No babified cheer
A child-like grown up world
Toddling babies
Run, wild, free
In fields of gold
Handprints – each one unique
And recreated.
Walk a little further on
Take a deckchair
If you will
And savour the melody
Or sit on the steps
You’re the show itself
Though there lies a stage in front
With decks and speakers
Classic piano
Funky chillout
In The Secret Garden
Who would imagine
As they wander by
In pure ideals
Butterflies at rest and play
Purple buddlia
And wild greens
The unglossy freedom of nature
As we sit beneath the sunshine
And savour
The smell of grass
Barbeque
And warmth.
What I learnt on Retreat
September 2, 2009 at 10:41 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 7 CommentsTags: Lyrics, Nonviolence, Play, Quotes, Spirituality
Recently, I went on a week long retreat at the Christian Meditation Retreat Centre in Oakwood, London. I first came across the World Community for Christian Meditation last Autumn, when I attended a 6-week long Introduction to Meditation course at St Mark’s, Myddleton Square in Angel. Paradoxically, attending this course was one of the key events that led me to give up the Christian label in my life at the end of 2008. I realised that there was no real difference between this, and the Zazen meditation I practiced during Shorinji Kempo training. If meditation was the Way, it was not one that was patented by any one religious tradition: it was the Way of the mystics.
Since then, my practice has been sporadic: bursts of enthusiasm puntuated by long silences. Not exactly the 20 minutes twice a day affair recommended by the WCCM’s godfather, John Main! As he says in his book, “Word into Silence”, meditation is simple, but it is NOT easy. Simple are the instructions: sit on floor or chair with long back, close eyes gently, breathe and say your mantra (the word “Maranatha”). Unfortunately, the execution is the NOT easy part: our thoughts and feeling constantly hustling for attention. I therefore went on retreat with the aim of weaving the discipline of meditation into the fabric of my life: 20 minutes twice a day.
In the Benedict discipline that John Main was part of, life is lived by balancing these three things – prayer, (manual) work and study – to establish harmony between mind, body and spirit. Our retreat, therefore, followed the same tradition. Five slots of meditation – the first at 6.30am and last at 9pm – punctuated the day. In between, two slots catered to our minds: one, a talk led by Father Laurence Freeman OSB, the other, Lectio. From what I understand, Lectio involves reading Scripture slowly and whole heartedly, noticing your thoughts and the feelings it brings up. It is not the same as intellectual study. In our case, we read two Scriptures, one Christian and one from another tradition, and discussed what they meant to us. Our bodies were catered for by doing manual work (cleaning/gardening), yoga and a silent walk in Trent Park each day. And of course, there was also very good food which served this purpose!
According to Father Laurence, the purpose of meditation is to “increase the sum total of human goodness” by enabling us to see ourselves more and more clearly, not through a glass darkly. To know our real selves, and not an illusion. As I’ve written before uncertainty is an inevitability of the human condition. We respond to the deep anxiety this creates by doing one of two things. Some people deny the existence of this deep anxiety; they avoid and run away from it by busying themselves with doing. Alternatively, they disengage altogether and fall into depression and addiction. The other response is to become simple and child-like – not disaggregating ourselves into tiny pieces (my problem, my job, my leisure) – but seeing life as a whole, as shalom. How does this latter response help us? Because, although human insecurity is an inevitability, we may choose to allow ourselves to be blanketed by the warmth of Divine security: a “peace that transcends all understanding”, a sense of experiential relationship that is love. The Middle Way (of Jesus, Lao Tzu and the Buddha), not religious certainty nor secular certainty.
Yoga. Play, exploration, an awakening. To discover one’s own body. To really sense it; to love its every curve and nook. How, if we do not take the time to love our own bodies, can we ever expect anyone else to love it? How can we love someone else’s body, if we cannot love our own? How can the beauty of sexual intimacy be enjoyed without such a deep, physical love? My body is a rollercoaster; it is a mystery. So often we treat our bodies harshly. Pain is seen as an irritation, something that needs to be fixed quickly. But pain is the body’s cry for attention. Meditation is attention. To feel awake in mind, body and spirit. Giovanni Felicioni, our teacher, said something beautiful: “The movement from observation to evaluation is the beginning of violence.” So true.
The next day. The Holy Spirit – that universal energy, supreme manifestation of the Divine, that is Chi and Ki and Prana. It has four aspects:
1) Inwardness
It is only fully understood through interiority, a deep encounter of the reality within and outside self. We must create a sacred space within us, cultivate an Inner Silence, for the Holy Spirit to reside. “The body is a temple of the Holy Spirit.”
2) Pure joy
“Ananda.” The Joy of Being, a deeper reality than the universal anxiety, which flows from the Source through your own Existence: just like rain through a drain-pipe. Breath. Spirit. When I was a child, the phrase “pure joy and freedom” used to whirr around my head. Now I know what it means. For “where the Spirit is, there is freedom.”
3) Energy
“Dynamos” (Greek). Power. Uncontrolable. Indestructible, yet changing in form. No wonder men seek to suppress it by structure; seek to pin it down. For it constantly reforms and reshapes in its wake. A pure manifestation of God. This is why the Quaker tradition keeps codification to a minimum, changing its “Testimonies and Witness” in response to the Breath of God. Truth is, perhaps, an Absolute Reality: Brahman. Spirit, however, changes form: Ganesha, Shiva and Lakshmi. They are different, yet they are the same. And we are to worship, “in Spirit and in truth.”
4) Love
That overused word that can mean everything and nothing. A communication. The creative spark that flows from Other-Centredness, just as in the Holy Trinity. To know God, we must love. For “where love is, there is God.”
Yoga. Two natural tendencies exist. Those people who live on the ground, rooted in reality, sometimes rigid; those people who live in the space, imaginative, sometimes airy-fairy. We need both. Deep roots, as well as branches; Stability, as well as Adaptability.
Lectio. We read from “Jesus – the Teacher Within” (Laurence Freeman). Karma and Sin are one and the same. The Law of Cause and Effect. Wrongdoing leads to punishment. But the Law of Love ALWAYS overrides. “This is the Law, ancient and inexhaustible.” (Dhammapada).
The next day. There are two kinds of prayer: apophatic and katophatic. The former is a contemplative and mysterious experience grounded in silence. The latter uses thoughts, words and images as a medium. Karen Armstrong establishes a similar dichotomy when she discusses “mythos” and “logos”. We need both strands. We need to pray alone and together. A matrix holding four options. In my own spiritual walk, this equates to meditation and Quaker meetings on the one hand, reading and discussing with friends – my “church” – on the other.
And what is prayer? Surfing? Attention. A work of love. To stretch one’s consciousness towards the Other. Meditation is the Narrow Way, an expansion of consciousness. Drugs are a short cut to the same end, and yet, like anything easy, don’t hold the same satisfaction in the long run. There is a video of John Frusciante on YouTube, a while after River died, which has given me this sense.
Song lyrics:
“The mystery of love
is that we become
what we delight
to gaze upon
So that when we have
opened our hearts
to the Light
we become
Light.”
The next day. The three stages of meditation.
1) In the silence, interruptions. “What should I have for dinner? Why did he say that?” Say your mantra!
2) In the silence, interruptions. Deep hurts, pain and brokeness surface. God heals. All things come together. Say your mantra!
3) The brick wall: Ego. A naked awareness of our Self, each block being its own defense mechanism/separate identity. Say your mantra!
Gradually, the bricks fall aways.
On the other side of the wall, there is a person, a guide: Jesus Christ. We sense His presence, yet we do not cling. Through Him, energised and empowered by the Holy Spirit, we are led on to the infinite Absolute, the Joy of Being, the Father.
“Eternal life is given to those who live in the present.” - Wittgenstein
Yoga, and a pithy quote:
“Christians used to be known as followers of the Way, not the one’s who’ve already got there.” - Giovanni Felicioni
The next day, we recapped the Walter Wink theology of the Cross. Sin equating to violence, first mentioned in the story of Cain and Abel. The Cross, the end of scapegoating (Rene Girard). That the death of one could save the multitude. For the death of one is the death of all, for we are all One together, interconnected. Jesus revealed this and frees us from our self-deception. The end of violence; nonviolence is the only palatable choice. Resurrection is the transforming energy that is released when we allow ourselves to take that place on the Cross.
There is more that I’ve left unsaid. The beauty of the Bhagavad Gita. The Parable of the Prodigal Son equating to a divided Ego: Id and Super Ego in conflict. And the gift of empathy.
But these three genie wishes I’m left with:
1) To learn to love.
2) To learn to be loved.
3) To know my true self, and through knowing, know God.
In the park
June 29, 2009 at 7:24 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a commentTags: Magic, Play, Poems
And I watch how the children play,
together they live for the day.
With reckless abandon and love unrestraint,
together they live
today.
A Little Bit of Magic…
June 12, 2009 at 2:51 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a commentTags: Magic, Play, Quotes
1) Whilst walking in Russell Square, I saw a lady dedicatedly smelling the roses. Talk about taking the advice literally! 
2) In Russell Square, I also happened upon the most beautiful gift. Two gift tags were attached to the stalk of some flowers with a ribbon. One said:
“Nothing, of course, begins at the time you think it did.” – Lillian Heilman
The other:
“Patience. Take rest. A field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.” – Ovid
Maybe Amelie Poulain has hit London…?!
3) A skinhead on the Tube, sucking a lollipop!
4) A twentysomething couple waiting for the bus playing Cat’s Cradle together…
The Power of the Imagination
June 10, 2009 at 10:08 am | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a commentTags: Play, Spirituality, Theatre
Last night, I attended a candlelight concert at St Martin in the Fields. The pianist played Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue”, Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” and “Appassionata sonata”, Chopin noctures, Rachmaninov and Liszt: a truly romantic collection.
I have begun to discover the power of the imagination latetly, so I used this concert as an opportunity to explore this.
First, I experimented with listening from different parts of my body: imagining I had ears in my elbows, or my heart. Then, I imagined ears in several places – knees, belly, shoulders – and joined up the dots, so that I listened with that whole square. Then I imagined my whole body was a receiver, and I couldn’t allow any music to get past me, around the edges.
Finally, I tried continually changed where I was listening from, to match the music. Hence, the lower notes were felt lower in the body and vice versa; those most emotional excerpts by the heart. I began to feel that, rather than being an audience, I was a participant. I became the music, utterly absorbed in its notes. My body the piano being played.
All of these experiments helped to get me out of my head, and into my body. My mind and body as one.
After listening with my whole body as a receiver, I expanded the circle to include the people around me. I imagined I was listening from all of them. I do something similar at Quaker meetings, first centering myself, then expanding the circle to include the whole. Eventually, I was the whole audience; there was no distinction between me and them. With such non-duality, I felt my appreciation of the music heightened stratospherically. I was one drop in the ocean, and then I was the ocean itself.
It is too early to come up with any generalisations about when to make use of the imagination in such a way, and how. A great deal more exploration needs to be done. One thing is for sure, however, there is much much more to be discovered!
Core Values
May 2, 2009 at 4:25 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a commentTags: Ethics, Homemaking, Nonviolence, Philosophy, Play, Spirituality
If I can live a life consistant with these values, I shall be one happy-bunny!
1) Wisdom
In Matthew 10:16, it says, “be wise as serpents, and innocent as doves.”
On the one hand, this means acting in a way that is above reproach, that cannot be construed as anything but “good” and well-meaning: being “angelic”. On the other hand, it relates to being fully aware of your surroundings – the violent intentions that may lie in the hearts of men (to trip you up or catch you out) – and not having your head up in the clouds: being “cunning”.
It means being a person that looks for the good in others, but is conscious of the potential for violence and is fully-armed to deal with it; perceiving individuals as grey, neither black nor white.
Wonder
“I don’t know about you, but I practice a disorganized religion. I belong to an unholy disorder. We call ourselves “Our Lady of Perpetual Astonishment.”
From Vonnegut’s, A Man Without A Country
By wonder, I mean continually being in a state of expectancy and enchantment. In “Summer Holiday”, the French mime says that when you’re travelling, you’re always “beholded”: thus, whatever happens, you always appreciate it.
Wonder leads to gratitude, and gratitude leads to joy.
Who can look at the moon and the stars and not feel a faint, ‘wow!’ echoing in their soul?
Whether it is a direct or indirect acknowledgement of Something More does not matter. What matters is seeking out those moments.
“may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old”
(ee cummings)
3) Tender-heartedness
“If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.”
(Emily Dickinson)
To have a hard heart is to be closed off from the suffering of humanity. Though we can be joyous in all moments, we cannot pretend away suffering.
To feel their pain, with empathy.
To suffer with them, with compassion.
And most of all, to act, somehow, someway, however small.
May I never walk past a person in tears and not reach for a hankerchief.
May I never walk past a person hungry and fail to give them food.
May I never walk past a person “invisible” and fail to greet them through the eyes.
4) Authenticity
“And this above all, to thine own self be true” (Shakespeare)
This is not about being self-centred and doing what you want at the expense of other people. The example that comes to mind is a person have an extra-marital affair, and saying they’re following their heart.
I see it more as a movement away from the Ego (the socialised self) towards the Id (what you are when no-one’s looking). It means finding that spark of divinity – a jewel within you – and not hiding it away in embarassment. Dare not be less for society’s measly sake; be more, for the sake of Something More.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you NOT to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so that other people won’t feel unsure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. As we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. “ (Nelson Mandela)
5) Playfullness
Play is a much under-rated value. Somehow, people think work is something grown up and serious, and play childish and frivolous. I could not differ more.
In Alexander Technique lessons, we talk about a child learn to write. Over and over, they get the letter upside-down or back-to-front. Over and over, the parent/teacher makes the child repeat it. As the parent/teacher gets steadily more stressed, they tense up their body saying ‘concentrate!’ The little child, imitating the adult, will tense up their body and try really hard to please the parent. And maybe this time they get it right. The parent commends them, and from this day on, the child will associate concentration and effort with reward.
In actual fact, when we are in a state of “play”, we learn much more, we are more open to possibilities, linkages and ideas.
To play is one of the most important things we can do.
“We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.”
(George Bernard Shaw)
6) Nonviolence
(I did try to make it 5 – for neatness – but it was impossible!)
Violence is anything that dominates, diminishes, dehumanises or destroys yourself or anyone else.
To be nonviolent, therefore, is to hold this tension. To walk the tightrope between being dominated or dominating others.
This strand runs through many of the famous texts:
“Love you neighbour as yourself” springs to mine.
“Live half for yourself and half for others” (Doshin So) also.
The Golden Rule.
It is a fascinating, endless exploration and one that shall endure for a life-time.
To live gently without being trampled; to make an impression, not a mark.
How about you? What are your core values and why are they important?
What makes a good festival?
April 29, 2009 at 7:52 am | Posted in Uncategorized | 1 CommentTags: Homemaking, Play, Spirituality
In a society where religion is no longer central to many people’s lives, certain cultural aspects of religion must not be lost to humankind.
These aspects – which appear to fulfill vital human needs are – ritual, community, celebration and rites of passage.
Ritual is meaningless, if people have lost the root and stories behind various traditions.
That is why I think it is important for us to initiate our own “festivals” which celebrate the values we hold dear and are desirous to past onto the next generation.
So, what makes for a good festival?
- Sharing a meal
- Special occasion food
- Sharing stories (at Larche, on people’s birthdays, the individual gets to tell their story to the group)
- A role for everyone (Jewish festivals in particular appear to cast each person in a significant role, meaning that everyone feels included)
- Celebration: music, dancing and song
- Rootedness: a meaning that harks back to the ancestors, both spiritual and physical
- A spiritual and physical aspect
- Liturgy, poetry or artwork
- Special decorations (eg a Christmas tree)
- Play: games, jokes and silliness
- Dressing up
- Good wine
- Close family and friends
What would you include as key aspects of festivals? And what values do you think it worth celebrating?
Child’s Play
April 23, 2009 at 4:55 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 3 CommentsTags: Homemaking, Play
The other day, on the train home, I sat to next to a little boy of around 5 years old. Behind him, were his harassed mother and elder sister (around 9 years old).
Eager to get the news from the playground, I started chatting to the boy, asking him how old he was etc Without any restraint or shyness, he spoke to me, chattering on about this, that and the other. His mother started to tell him off; “maybe this lady wants to read her book, maybe she doesn’t want you disturbing her”.
So I spoke to the mother and said it was of no consequence to me, so long as she didn’t think I was some kind of paedophile or something! She relaxed…at last!
The boy had some toys on him: a light sabre, a car, a giant motorbike and a model of Shrek. We played together, racing the different characters and such.
It was evident that he had played a lot of computer games, as he was imitating the part where you pick which vehicle/character you want to be. I find this a little worrying.
A child’s reality is shaped by the games they play. In times past, boys would play with tin soldiers and spitfires. Whilst I don’t agree with these toys, as they compund the myth of redemptive violence, at least these children’s reality was bein shaped by reallity. War do actually happen; soldiers do actually fight.
This little boys reality was being shaped by unreality, and I find that mildly disturbing.
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