Practicing the Alexander Technique

Background

I was motivated to practice the Alexander Technique due to pain in my back and neck, caused by poor posture and bodily tension.

The Alexander Technique involves being peripherally aware in the midst of every movement of the body to minimise effort and tensing of the body.  It had a profound and lasting effect on me.  

My teacher was a beautiful, calm woman who embodied what she taught.  We practiced at her house in Newlands and often used her lovely garden.  I have vivid memories of performing various actions (walking, sitting, lying, opening a door) and she would instruct in a gentle hands on way.

How The Alexander Technique inspired and influenced me 

• The Alexander Technique directly influenced my "calmness mantra" which become something I repeated countless times until it osmosed into my being. I still use this mantra on a regular basis. You can read the mantra below.
• The Alexander Technique inspired my increasing interest in spirituality and meditation - inspiring me to do a TM meditation course and read spiritual books. It also inspired my later interest in Tai Chi.
• During my Old Mutual years, I practiced a form of self developed meditative motion inspired by The Alexander Technique. It involved a series of effortless movements done in a state of deep awareness, often to music.
• The Alexander Technique inspired the principle of "spaciousness" that formally emerged around 2013 and is now one of the three cornerstones of my spiritual journey (Presence, Surrender, Spaciousness). Spaciousness is all about remaining open and relaxed in the midst of all experience, including uncomfortable sensations and emotion in the body.
• The Alexander Technique was my informal introduction to Presence (being in a state of awareness in the midst of activity).

Insights gained by learning and practising The Alexander Technique

• Where we instinctively tense up, we can learn to let go and loosen.
• End-goaling and striving is counter-productive. When we relax into our natural state, we become far more effective and happy.
• If you want to see perfect posture, watch a very young child.
• The head and neck should be relaxed. Imagine a string with a helium balloon hitched to the back of your head, pulling your head and posture very gently up.
• The traditional shoulders back, chest out, back straight instruction for posture is counter-productive. The shoulders should be relaxed and the back should be allowed to rest in it's natural curve. 
• Rush not. Take your time.
• The power of doing everything in a state of open awareness.

My Calmness Mantra (inspired by The Alexander Technique)

• Effortless in mind and body, I nurture and inmost calm in all I do.
• I flow with the journey, letting it unfold with time.
• I act where I can, then allow all to flow.
• I am relaxed and centred, letting nothing phase me.
• Rush not, I take my time. Strive not, I let it happen. Grasp not, I let go. 
• I live a relaxed stroll, letting nothing phase.
• Supported below, each movement is a change to release.

F.M. Alexander, the founder of the technique

Challenges (University years: 1989 - 1993)

Mood

• Obsession re attractiveness (losing hair)
• Feeling low at times (bath, outside house, way to work)

 

University

• Fail accounting
• Final exams "fail" marketing
• Fashion award

Physical

• Shoulder sore (move into Willow Road)
• My sore neck (started in Mukuzi, gave up course)
• Sore back (especially dampening first year's freshers' week)
• Sore joints (knees)
• Erection fears early on (Ally)
• Penis painful

Confidence and envy

• Steven sleeping with lovely girl - jealous, will I ever?
• Pretending to spend night out (stay in bathroom)
• Missed opportunity with Allison

Favourite movies watched (University Years: 1989 - 1993)

•  Schindler's List (1993)
• Groundhog Day (1993) 
• The Fugitive (1993)
• Jurassic Park (1993)
• Cliffhanger (1993)
• Indecent Proposal (1993)
• The Remains of the Day (1993)
• True Romance (1993)
• The Bodyguard (1992)
• Unforgiven (1992)
• Reservoir Dogs (1992)
• Scent of a Woman (1992)
• Basic Instinct (1992)
• A Few Good Men (1992)
• The Last of the Mohicans (1992)
• Strictly Ballroom (1992)
• The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
• Point Break (1991)
• Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)
• Beauty and the Beast (1991)
• The Commitments (1991)
• Cape Fear  (1991)
• Thelma and Louise (1991)
• The Doors (1991)
• Dances with Wolves (1990)
• Die Hard 2 (1990)
• Pretty Woman (1990)
• Awakenings  (1990)
• Total Recall (1990)
• Edward Scissorhands  (1990)
• Ghost (1990)
• Presumed Innocent  (1990)
• Nikita (1990)
• Miller's Crossing (1990)
• Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989)
• Dead Poets Society (1989)
• Back to the Future Part II (1989)
• Sex, Lies and Videotape (1989)
• When Harry Met Sally (1989)
• Dead Calm (1989)

An essay I wrote, aged 16, about Grandpa's passing

Visiting hours

Even outside in the corridor, I could hear him wheezing and gasping for breath. I remember entering the ward with my father behind me. The nurses had warned me about his condition. They had said that he probably would not last the night and to expect the worst – and yet I was still not prepared for seeing him. His face was so pale and his eyes, sunken deep into their sockets and half closed, were lifeless. In fact, if it had not been for the wheezing sound that came from his lips, I would not known that he was alive. He looked up at me and our eyes met but I didn’t know what to say.

My shock gave way to a relieving numbness. I could not believe that this man was my ‘grandpa’, my vibrant, healthy grandpa whom I had accompanied on weekly walks along Muizenberg beach only months before, when he had been so fit that I had struggled to keep up with him.

I remembered how much he had despised illness and physical frailty, and all that was connected with it. When my grandmother had fallen and broken her hip, he had even hated the crutches that she had been forced to use.

Then he contracted Parkinson’s disease. I watched how his body began to betray him and he grew weaker and weaker. He had always been a reserved person and he now bottled up his feelings and frustration and refused to accept what was happening to him. Soon, almost unable to walk, his illness imprisoned him in the confinements of his tiny flat; only his mind was allowed to wander.

Stubbornness became his only weapon. Although he and my grandmother were totally incapable of being by themselves, he refused to leave his flat. I remember only too clearly how we all lived in constant fear of the telephone. Every time it rang, it was my hysterical grandmother to say that her husband had had another fall.

The day came when, after a particularly bad accident, they were forced to leave their flat for an old age home. And so it was that Grandpa entered an institution that he had despised all his life, an institution which to him was the very symbol of frailty. By staying here, he was, for the first time ever, acknowledging his weakness.

I remember the home well though I would rather forget it. The rooms were dark and small and the stench of urine and disinfectant which pervaded them, still haunts me. Although the nurses tried hard, it was a place where depression reigned, spirits sagged and hopes were lost.

After my grandmother died, my grandfather’s health declined even more rapidly than before. Soon he was unable to do anything. To make matters worse, his disease weakened his bladder and he soiled everything he wore – and so he lost the only thing he had left – his dignity.

My grandfather had never been a personal man. He loved his family but had always been too embarrassed to show it through any form of physical emotion. But now he let down some of the walls that he had built throughout his life and he began to show great joy in all my visits. However, although we loved each other, we still did not express it openly.

When he had gone into hospital. His throat had become encrusted with phlegm and the doctors frantically set about prolonging his life another week or two. Why they hadn’t left him in peace to escape his suffering, I will never know. They pumped him with drugs but it was to no avail. It was during his stay that he had taken a dramatic change for the worse.

I remember looking down at the wheezing, suffering man below me and wondering if it was all real. Here, in front of me was a man who was dying – a man whom I had known and loved all my life. But then our eyes met and I knew at once that it was – and the realisation hit me like a physical blow. Tears sprung to my eyes. I was suddenly filled with a desire to lean over him, to enfold him – but I had never done it before and so how could I do it now? My father stood beside me, as ill at ease as I was. We just stood watching, helpless, while he gasped for breath.

We left after a while with heavy hearts and had almost reached the car when I turned round I felt myself running frantically along the corridor and I was back in the ward. I sank down and for the first time in my life, I whispered into his ear “I love you, grandpa.” The smallest trace of a smile seemed to appear on the old man’s lips and he opened his mouth as if to say something – but a choking spell enveloped him and his words were lost.

I left the ward.

The phone rang early the next morning. It was the doctor to say that my grandfather had died during the night.

University years (1989 - 1993)

"Education is not preparation for life; education is life itself."  John Dewey

All posts labelled "university years"

Where I studied

I was very lucky to study at the University of Cape Town (UCT).  It is set in one of the most beautiful locations in the world on the green slopes of Devil's Peak with spectacular views of the city. The central hub of the University is the Student Centre and University Hall leading down to the Jameson Steps where we used to laze in the sun between lectures (and sometimes during!) and take in the beautiful views (often of pretty girls walking by).

My first year (Biology and Zoology)

During my first year, I studied Zoology and Botany.  I loved nature and bird watching and I had fantasies of becoming an ornithologist or even a game ranger.  I enjoyed my year, although, as I was prone to do, I worked far too hard.  In retrospect, I would have sacrificed some of the high grades and focused far more on the social life and club activities.  I had one particularly socially active friend, who when he scored 53% in a test (the passmark was 50%) looked disappointed and said he had done 3% too much work. Maybe he had a little bit of a point.

I was very happy that my best friend at school, Tony Verboom, was at UCT too, studying the same course as me. Our friendly rivalry at school to get higher marks than each other carried over into University life - and as usual, he almost always prevailed.  But I didn't really mind - Tony was always humble despite his remarkable brain and he never rubbed it in.

During our Zoology course, we had to dissect all sorts of unfortunate creatures like snails and frogs and horror of horrors, a rat.  I can still smell the formaldehyde on my hands. We had to draw what we dissected and not being much of a drawer, I found it something of a challenge.  A vivid memory I have is of one of the students getting so frustrated by the intricacy required to separate out the sexual organs of his snail that he gave a shout of frustration and smashed his snail with his fist.

During Botany lessons, I remember spending long hours hunched over a microscope drawing the internal bits of various stems and leaves.  I had a bit of a cricky neck anyway, and it certainly didn't help it. I didn't enjoy Botany as much as Zoology but Tony developed a passion for it and he would later become a Botany professor and renowned researcher.

Ironically, one of my favourite courses during my first year was computer programming. I enjoyed the logic of it and will never forget the elation I felt when our professor gave us a particularly challenging assignment to do for extra marks and I managed to complete it and Tony did not.  It was a rare moment to savour!  I was very impressed by computers (although they were positively pre-historic compared to the ones we have today) and it was during this time that my love of technology was born.

Another course I enjoyed was Maths.  We had an extremely fun and dynamic lecturer who really made it come alive and although I didn't regard numbers and equations to be my forte (and I still don't), I really excelled and ended up getting the class medal with 89%.  Something I am still proud of.

Apart from Jameson Steps, another part of the University that I adored was the university library.  It was enormous and smelt of old books and had a labyrinth of different rooms to explore and work in. In those days, the book index was not computerised and there were countless drawers containing many many thousands of index cards.  Amazing to think that was only 20 years ago.

My least favourite subject was Chemistry, particularly the practicals and especially the patience and attention to detail required in doing titrations. This involved sucking up liquid solutions into pipettes and then painstakingly adding the solution to another solution in a beaker tiny drop by drop.  It was agonising, and not especially good for my teeth when one lesson I sucked a little too hard and Hydrochloric Acid flooded into my mouth.  Thankfully I didn't swallow or I would have developed a very bad case of heart burn!

On another occasion, I inhaled highly poisonous mercury fumes during an experiment gone wrong and I had to go to the University Medical Centre to get checked out.  On yet another occasion, I was so wrapped up in a torturous titration that I didn't hear everyone finish up, pack up and leave - and they didn't see me hidden away in the back end of the classroom.  By the time I realised that everyone was gone, I discovered that I was locked in the classroom.

I didn't fancy an overnight stay in the bowels of my most hated subject so I opened a window and performed a daredevil shuffle along a knife edged ledge to another window in an unlocked classroom.  I was on the fifth floor and I have always been terrified of heights so it wasn't a very enjoyable experience.


Changing to Business Studies

At the end of my first year of study, I made a decision that would hugely influence my life - to give up Zoology to study business. To be honest, it was a decision that I don't think I thought about carefully enough.  But at the time, my neck was really sore from all the peering down into a microscope and I was a little scared of second hand reports that most Zoology students end up as school biology teachers on really low salaries. Not to mention the fact I didn't relish the idea of second year chemistry.

In retrospect, I was a very dedicated student and I'm pretty sure I would have ended up in whatever role I had wanted.  When I hear about what some of my old zoology class mates are up to (Ross spends months on exotic islands studing the behaviour of albatrosses and other parts of the year as a bird guide in the Seychelles), I wonder how life would be different if I'd persisted.

I started my business studies by majoring in finance, but after a disastrous accounting test, I decided I wasn't suited to the world of high finance and more suited to the creative world of marketing. I think that was one my better decisions.  Although to be honest, it wasn't made entirely with my career in mind - marketing happened to attract some of the most gorgeous girls in the university and the prospect of sharing a class with them was a very attractive proposition.

Although I didn't have a particular passion for business, I enjoyed studying marketing.  I especially  realised this when one day, Julian came around to my  place so we could study together as we regularly did.  Julian had his thick text book open and was revising Hugh's tangential equation of mechanical prediction.  I had my text book open and was studying about the use of sex in advertising.  I realised then that I quite liked marketing!

Willow Road

I was extremely fortunate that my Grandfather left me some money when he passed away and I was able to use this to buy a house at an early age.  The house was in Fernwood Estate, a particularly lush suburb on the slopes of Table Mountain, close to Kirstenbosch.  The previous owner had been a botany professor at UCT so the garden was a veritable botanist's delight of local species which had been allowed to grow wild.  The first thing we needed to do was a bit of trimming.

Mum and dad were wonderful as always.  They helped me paint the house and buy furniture and deck the place out.  It was all absolutely wonderful - one of the most exciting times of my life - although I don't think the unfortunate neighbours felt the same when they saw a student move into their peaceful and well ordered suburb. Especially when I decided to rent out my 3 other bedrooms to other students and our 4 cars (more when there were guests) lined the road in a street that didn't have a lot of parking.  But I was blissfully ignorant of all that at the time.

Housemates

I loved having house mates and I got to live and share a house with some wonderful people. It was a great social experience and it also helped me learn a lot about people.

 Dain was my first house mate and ended up staying the longest.  She was really tall and lean (like me, somewhat gangly) and totally passionate about sport including running and cycling and hockey.  She was an actuary at Old Mutual and relatively particular about things but I was happy to be tidy.

The second house mate I procured was Steven, a very jovial chap who ran his own plumbing business.  He used to arrive home after a busy, sweaty and poop infested day and have hot bath.  Being a man, he didn't think to scrub the bath afterwards and Dain (who shared his bathroom) deeply disapproved of the stain marks this left.  But she didn't like conflict so bit her tongue harder every day.  Until one day she exploded into a furious fireball and singed poor oblivious Steven's eyebrows right off.  I can still hear the yelling.  This taught me an important lesson - better to voice your discontent early and politely than let it boil over later.

Oliver was one of my dearest house mates as he helped me cope with the terrible ignomy of a receding hairline in my early 20's and the extremely likely prospect of being "domed" like my dad quite early in life.  Oliver was far, far balder than me and one day he described in vivid detail how he used to sit in the back of the car when his family went on outings and glare at the back of his dad's bald head  with  such focused vehemence that he was surprised his poor dad's naked scalp didn't smoulder.  We laughed so much that it suddenly felt like it didn't matter any more (well not too much, anyway).

Ben, another house mate,  was a tall unshaven man who looked just like Jesus in the old epic movies and he pulled gorgeous girls at a speed that would have made Casanova blush.

Steve was a hot shot paramedic who wore dark glasses like Tom Cruise in Top Gun and fancied himself as the fastest and most skilled driver in South Africa until he rolled his car on the hill just outside our house.  In his defence, he was in a rush to help a poor stranded motorcar accident victim.  Like policemen always look after their own, all the paramedics on route to the original accident scene did rapid U-turns to help Steve.  He was not physically wounded except for some bruising - but his swagger was a little less pronounced for a week or two after.

Ah, and then their was Andre!  He was really, really old (at least 35!!) and he had recently been ditched by his wife for another man.  He was determined to make sure he did the dumping from then on.  Like Ben, he had a wide range of girlfriends, but they only lasted on the scene for a week at a time, and then Andre would move on.  On one occasion, he juggled three (oblivious) girl friends at the same time.

One day, Oliver (who was a serial prankster) and I decided to pull a prank on Andre.  Oliver said he had a very juicy pornographic video that Andre should see to believe. Andre, needless to say, was very curious.  Oliver put the video on and started it and then handed the remote to Andre but warned him not to fast forward as then he might miss the important scene.  Oliver excused himself to go to the bathroom and I was in the kitchen, pretending to make coffee.

Right on time, as meticulously arranged, Oliver's pretty sister and female friend let themselves into the front door with a key we had given them and they came barging into the lounge.  Andre reacted quickly, pressing stop on the remote, but of course we had removed the batteries.  Andre then launched himself over the coffee table in a desperate attempt to switch the TV off, and that is how the girls found him, on his tummy, pressing buttons, while above him on the TV, all sorts of devious sexual antics were taking place.

On another occasion, I woke up to high pitched female screaming.  Convinced someone was being attacked out in the street, I ran as fast as I could, forgetting to put on clothes, down the corridor and out the door.  That's when I realised that the screaming was coming from Andre's outside room and they weren't screams of terror.  To the contrary!  The screams continued in an ebb and a flow late into the night and early morning but I was too embarrassed to interrupt.  Finally I fell asleep.

The next morning, Andre walked into the kitchen alone with a big smile on his face.  "My god, Graeme, I've found the girl for you!  I met her at the bar last night and we had some good fun.  I'm dumping her today but I'll put in a good word and you'll stand a very good chance."
"No thanks," I found myself saying.  "First of all, I don't want to catch anything.  Second, I like to get to know a girl before I shag her.  And thirdly, what if she doesn't scream for me!"


Free time between studies and on holidays

Some of my more vivid memories are as follows:

• Meeting my best friend to be, Russell, on Jameson steps.  He kind of liked Ally (who wouldn't?) and gave her a rose, but once I made it subtly clear she was out of bounds, we got on like a house on fire, fuelled by the fact we like the same silly jokes.  We've been friends ever since.
• Doing the Tsitsikama with my good friend, Rory - I met Rory in Maths class and we connected immediately.  He is a funny, zany guy and loves hiking as much as I did.  Later, Rory would work with me at Old Mutual.  He also became a house mate.
• Holidays to Betties Bay and Pringle Bay with the Rusconis
• Youth Club (Ambassadors) meetings and camps where I met and got to know special people like Ivor, Nicola and Shirley who remain good friends. 
• Taking up ballroom dancing and learning the waltz, foxtrot, quick-step, cha cha and Rumba.  I did it initially to meet girls at close quarters, armed with aftershave and deodorant - but I soon loved the dancing in its own right.
• Attending the Viennese Waltz in the UCT Hall with Caroline - oh, how I lusted after her but I was too scared to make a move
• Meeting Moira through dancing and having several fun dates including dancing at Robben Island
• Trips with Julian to the Grahamstown Festival followed by camping at Storm's River and Natures Valley - great memories
• Wonderful times with Ivor including games of Lazerquest where we learned to get to the top of the ranking by targeting the weak!
• Camps with Shirly and friends in Greyton
• My 21st birthday party at Willow Road dancing to the new music system that I bought and was very proud of
• Mum helping me type up my assignments - I would dictate and she would type and help correct grammar as we'd go
• Getting my first computer and trying to make the mouse work by holding it upside down and moving the ball with my fingers.  And how I loved Windows 2!
• Reading Anthony Robbins (Giant Steps) and Edward de Bono's lateral thinking books
• Wonderful trips with dad to Zululand and Knysna

Meeting Ally

I met Ally in the little town of Kleinmond on New Years eve 1992.  A sea gull's feather bought us together and we had a really wonderful romance which became committed and serious very quickly.  Ally had been studying Industrial Psychology remotely through Unissa but fortuitously she was accepted into UCT for February 1993 so we spent my last year at UCT studying in the same place.  Here is more about our early relationship.  Very special memories indeed.

Graduation

I graduated at the end of 1993 with my degree in Marketing.  The day of my graduation was extremely warm and we all sweltered in the hall, me especially in my black robes.  Still, it was a great moment.  Here are some pictures of me looking proud as punch with mum and dad.

After graduation

After my graduation, I applied to various companies.  I ended up with three job offers, one in Johannesburg which was never an option.  I chose to work for a financial services company called Old Mutual.  And so my working life began.


Related links

• Letters written to Jo in 1992 (while she was overseas).
• My graduation
• Spiritual journey (university years)
• Journal entries labelled as "university years"
• Journal entries labelled "Willow Road"

.