Balance and Vitality

The session started out innocently enough with some more chair work. Once I was sufficiently aligned and centered, Alexis brought out three slips of paper and told me to pick one. I did, with a silent prayer that it wouldn't tell me to improvise a skit or something equally horrifying.

I should know better by now. The Alexander Technique requires an open mind and little else -- no specific personality or body type, no special skills. It is always unintrusive, probably to prevent end-gaining (definition in "Session Five: End of the Summer Special"). In fact, sometimes the techniques are so indirect that you're not exactly sure what effect you're going for.

Case in point: on the slip of paper were printed these words... GOBBLING GARGOYLES GOBBLED GOBBLING GOBLINS. My tongue-twisting skills just about match my juggling skills. I barely got through the first attempt. We tried a few more times before the gobbling gargoyles were laid to rest.

The exercise managed to totally knock me off my center. I bobbed my head up and down ridiculously on each "g" sound, scrunched up my face and tensed my shoulders. As we went back to sitting and standing, Alexis told me to try saying a common-enough name, Peggy Babcock.

"Peggy Babcock," I enunciated.

"Now say it three times, faster."

"Peb...!"

The minute the slightest pressure was applied, I couldn't even get through the name once. We did that for a while, with Alexis holding my head in place. By the end of the Peggy Babcock training session, I was almost able to ignore the raging desire to rename her "Bagpipe" and leave it at that. Out came the gargoyle for one last try, and this time it was strangely feasible. I hope I'm not giving away all of Alexis' secrets here, but this Peggy Babcock thing worked like magic.

Anyway, to make a long story short, I can now understand why performing arts schools like to teach the Alexander Technique.