I learned the climbers rest step early in my life, growing up at high altitude, the child of mountaineers. Step, breathe, step, breathe, step, breathe. Instead of moving through the steps with momentum, you take a tiny pause with each step, conserving energy. Resting then moving forward. Repeated a few thousand times, it will get you to the top of the mountain. This past summer was a lesson in humility. First, out of nowhere, bronchitis. Two trips to urgent care, two chest x-rays, antibiotics (that didn’t help) and a nebulizer treatment (that did help). Then, when I was finally over that, I t ..read more

In our ongoing exploration of Alexander Technique and non-doing, last week I had my college students read and discuss Ross Gay’s essay “Loitering is Delightful” (caution: profanity). Then I assigned them a challenging task: take 20 minutes to do… nothing much. Loiter, take their time. Take a walk on campus or wander the stacks in the library, or look at a painting in the campus gallery. But no phones, no homework, nothing that feels “productive.” I also challenged myself to do the assignment, but unlike my students, I didn’t go more than a few feet beyond the classroom, as I felt compelled to ..read more

The first time I recall feeling anxious before travel I was 29 years old. My dad was driving me to the airport for the trip of a lifetime—to Istanbul. I was meeting up with my Aunt Frances in Chicago and together we were flying to Turkey. And I spent that whole drive to the airport vibrating and trying to breathe (this was not long before my first Alexander Technique lesson, but alas, I didn’t have those skills yet). My dad gave a good pep talk. Then onto the plane and a grand adventure. I turned 30 in Istanbul. Recently I had the opportunity to spend a night by myself at the Coast. A birthda ..read more

I watched a sugar ant walk across my kitchen counter, knowing that a string of ants wouldn’t be far behind. And I found myself engaged in a thought experiment: What if there is no such thing as an ant? I mean a single ant. Ant, singular. There are only ants, plural. I may see a single ant. But that ant is not really what we’d think of as an individual (what a horror individualism would be to an ant!). It is instead an integral member of a community, carrying out its own function within the locus of the colony. In the last year I have known three great people who died. And I mean great people ..read more

The other day I was walking at Smith and Bybee Lakes next to my son. It was a gorgeous day—warm enough for a thick hoodie and scarf, rather than a coat. He was chattering to me about math games and school friends and I confess my mind wandered a bit… Wouldn’t it be fun to take a bike tour of Scotland someday? Ooh! Imagine the tea and the beautiful country… (I’m an escape artist from way back.) But then I remembered the bumper sticker I saw last week, “I’d Rather Be Here Now.” And my brain, with a sound like a record scratching, wrenched back to the present—the sunlight, the mossy path, the Os ..read more

I was commiserating with a student yesterday about how hard it is to find time to dedicate to the Alexander Technique practice of lying down and doing nothing for a few minutes a day. A core belief: “I have too damn much to do!” “But,” my student countered, “I waste so much time!” Good point. Good point. I have been pondering waste, of late. And not just the leftovers in my fridge or bureaucratic red tape. No, I’m talking about something much more fundamental—the ways in which I waste my two most precious assets: time and energy. They are related, of course. A moment wasted looking at my phon ..read more

We’re deep into the season when we are supposed to be joyful. Whether we like it or not. And coming to the end of yet another year of uncertainty, grief, collective breath-holding (broken occasionally by yelling at those who do not share our world-view). I’m currently worrying about taking my kids on a plane for the first time in two years. And my daughter’s upset tummy. And my bank balance. And, and… And it seems pretty rich that on top of all that, I’m meant to be joyful, jolly and jubilant. But earlier today I saw a sign that brought me up short: “Joy is Radical.” Yes. (It was on the websi ..read more

Saturday is the one day I dispense with my morning routine. No scraping myself out of bed before my family to sweep, write and walk before chivvying us all out the door. And this week something magical happened—I had enough time to sit quietly and savor an entire cup of tea without anyone talking to me. This is pretty unheard of. The kids were playing in the back yard and my husband was still in bed. It was splendid and… hard. Every 30 seconds or so a thought would send a jolt through my nervous system: I should clean up those legos! Oh no, I forgot to send that email yesterday! So many meeti ..read more

I guess people perceive me as the Posture Police, because they are often saying things to me like: “At the end of the day/at the end of a long trip/when I get off work/[fill in the blank] I’m just too tired to sit up. I try, but I can’t. All I can do is just collapse into the couch. I wish I could stay upright like you.” This may be said sheepishly with a look of apology, or it may be said in a challenging way, the implication being the speaker’s life is so much more tiring than mine. Today I officially respond to both types of people: “You think I’m never too tired to sit up straight? Ha!” I ..read more

It’s 7:42 am and we’re driving to the pediatrician’s office for an annual check-up. I’m seething with anger because I wanted to leave 10 minutes ago and I adjust my visor against the bright morning sun with my fingers curled into a fist. “It’s not the car’s fault,” my son points out. I’m all shook up. And yes, something about the way things go in the morning has to change in order to get out the door in a timely fashion. (We discuss that once I’ve calmed down.) But even more important than that, I (still!) need to work on my own reaction. Lately I’ve been picturing a snow globe. You know how ..read more