This morning I woke with thoughts of spacetime. I’m absorbing and integrating the Alexander Technique principles as I reach to receive, and curve, not grasp.
I’m aware of curving because pumpkins are everywhere, and pumpkins even in their roundness exhibit their own unique reach, bend, contraction, expansion, and curve.
Monday night I made fondue and put it in a sugar pumpkin to cook, an experiment that turned out to be a little strange. Perhaps it was because pumpkins are native to North America, and fondue to the mountains of Switzerland and France. Maybe as the land mass was once one, and now is separated into continents, some foods, too, are meant to hold their own sense of place and taste.
The point is I’m playing with curves, with curving into receptivity, discovery, and relationship. I’m working with less need to control, and in that, letting go of incessant, and mostly meaningless, inner commands and demands. I want to meet the world “new” without straight lines handed down, or maybe up, from the past. I want to curve and curl like a cat.
In this process of exploration and discovery, I feel a bit spacey as I introduce new possibilities and shapes into my way of being.
That brings me to igloos and wigwams, one round, and one cone-shaped. How do we house ourselves?
Where I live, the homes of the original people, the Coast Miwok, resemble a triangle. Buckminster Fuller knew that the structure of the triangle is twice as strong as a rectangle, and created his geodesic dome, a spherical structure created from triangles. The shape and housing does more with less.
I want that. I want to do more with less. I want to release pressure and judgment, to float and rise with a little more ease.
Knowing that matter bends the geometry of spacetime, I play with gravity, the force of attraction that exists between any two masses, and playing with, allowing, and responding to invitation, I rise up from the earth as she holds me in her grace. I simply rise, no effort at all – sometimes.
Thoreau wrote: You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment.
Yes! Launch on every wave, find my eternity in each moment. Yes!
I come to my computer keyboard, aware of waves, gravity, arches, and domes. I allow my fingers to curve, to reach, receive, and as I allow that the keyboard reaches for me. I celebrate the attraction of gravity, the reciprocity and energy in relationship.
Rumi wrote: Your heart knows the way. Run in that direction. I’m running, well, actually, I’m sitting in a chair, but I’m following my heart, opening it out, spreading it out like brie cheese, another change in the fondue recipe, which again, was not an experiment to repeat, or keep.
Thoughts of Alexander Technique flow an invitation of connection, an invitation of direction. The founder, F.M. Alexander wrote: There is no such thing as a right position, but there is such a thing as a right direction.
Therefore, I “think” a message, and a direction as I let my neck be free, to let my head go forward and up, to let my back lengthen and widen.
And now I pause to answer the phone. My son calls. His son, my grandson, will be born any time now, and there is the question of circumcision. In the old days, there wasn’t a decision to make. All was ordained by the culture, the tribe of which one was a part. And now we’re presented with an array of choices and reasons, complicating, and perhaps confusing, what we decide.
In Alexander, I’m learning to stop so that I don’t necessarily react habitually and automatically to the endless stimulation of life. In that, I sometimes feel disoriented and discombobulated. If I open and release my neck, rise, and allow my shoulders to spread apart, who am I?
And there’s the question of the day. Who am I? I might answer easily and habitually, that I am this, or I am that, or I am, or maybe I simply settle back, settle like a wave curving softly into sand, and know, there is no I, only we, and there, in movement, release, and curve, is peace and ease.