Do we always have to make a small movement?
I taught this week's lesson (rolling across the mid line) in one of my classes last week and noticed one of my students was barely lifting her leg for the duration of the lesson.
Afterward, she posed an excellent question. She said she thought the whole point of Feldenkrais was to make small movements. "That's what you always say," she continued, "make small movements."
I thought about it, and in one sense, she's correct. We do say make small movements. Moshe himself says to do a little less than you can in his ten-point essay, How to Learn.
However, its why we say this that's relevant.
We say do a little less because when you strain, you are learning what you already know. We all have several PhDs in strain. It's not only novel, it's shocking to be asked to do less. Yet, this is vital for differentiate our sensations, and comparing our sensations is the only way we learn. If we make too much effort, which is to say, too big a movement, our whole experience is subsumed into one thing: resistance.
Note that the variable we're looking at is effort, not size. If you make a larger movement and you're certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that you're not increasing your effort, then go ahead. That's why we always say, move your legs in the direction of the floor, not, bring your legs to the floor. You always calibrate to the movement suggestion in a way that is easy for you in this moment.
In that essay on how to learn, Moshe says to insist on light, easy movement. "Insist" is a strong word! My teacher used to call it ruthless self-inquiry: Do not allow for sloppy, fuzzy, effortful uumphing through life.
Moshe says it clearly:
"Learning takes place through our nervous system, which is so structured as to detect and select, from among our trials and errors, the more effective trial."
How do you sense this?
If all your movement trials are full of pain and resistance, you have nothing useful to select from. So how do you know what to do? You listen for the sensation of the force dampening, of confusion, or loss of clarity, or, perhaps, feeling the need to push, pull, stretch, resist, stop, clunk, or pinch. Each person's sensation will be informative.
I taught a foot and ankle lesson the other day with small, delicate movements in the ankle and one student reported muscle soreness at the end of the lesson. She asked if she did too much, knowing full well the answer to that question! In the moment, she was not aware that her movements were too much, they didn't feel like it at the time. I watched her filp-flop her ankle rapidly and strongly during the whole lesson and it was painful to watch.
Even if I said do less, sometimes we all need the post-lesson feedback to make the relevant shift: next time, do less! The brain still learns.
What if the lesson asks for big movements?
This is also true: There are lots of big movements in Feldenkrais. Really big! Giant! Rolling and flipping and spinning and lifting the legs and arms and torsos in ways that require strength as well as organization. Here is where you must calibrate to your individual comfort.
It's not that we don't use muscles in this method. It's that we use muscles appropriately for the task at hand. We don't confusedly fire everything on all cylinders when what's required is a precise application of motor control. Think of it as training to do precisely what we intend in life instead of activating a hundred extraneous contractions that not only tire us out, they get us nowhere.
We start small so we can attend to precision in orientation, speed, timing, and force. Starting big generates disorganized, wasteful, unaware action.
You always, always make the lesson your own. Even in a big lesson, you'll note that we start small and layer up. As you increase the size of the movement, do you grit your teeth? Hold your breath? If you're holding your breath, you're unnecessarily bracing. It should be possible to activate large muscle groups while breathing. That's a sign of a high-functioning system.
While many Feldenkrais lessons can be athletic, even gymnastic, it doesn't eliminate the need to move with ease. That's why we train in small movements with the least amount of effort. Then you can do a big movement with ease even when life throws you a fast one. I had a long-time student fall on the ice and instinctively curl into a ball to prevent injury! (This person was in their 70s, by the way.)
It's normal for all of us to dissociate from our sensations to some degree, which makes training in sensory feedback a process. Noticing effort using small movements sets us up for success in large movements, which you only do if they feel just as easy and elegant as the small ones. Otherwise, go back a step.
As one of my clients pointed out, the process IS the product.
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Try this lesson and notice when you feel comfortable making a bigger movement, and what tells you it’s safe?