Found some pieces of writing which I didn't finish, but still wanted to post.

During Chi Gong, I do notice some remarkable things.

A typical lesson comprises series of gentle exercises; each exercise is finished by bringing down energy to your navel (according to Chinese medicin, the kidneys and the liver are the most vital organs in the body)and meditating for one or two minutes. The exercises at the start of the lesson are meant for opening the meridians in the body and letting the energy flow. As the lesson progresses, the teacher picks certain exercises that channel the energy to those parts of the pupils' organism that particularly need it.

This is where the remarkable things start. Just like an Alexander teacher can tell things about a pupil by means of his hands, a Chi Gong teacher can tell things about a pupil by focusing on the energetic field of a pupil. So without even touching us, our teacher can sense shortages or surplusses of energy in our bodies. He even adapts his exercises to our specific needs. Takes a bit of a leap of faith, just like AT.

Although my teachers all have been very clear about where my directions should go (forward and up), they're not as unanimous as to where directions should come from. The difference is subtle, but it's there:

Stream A: directions up along the spine, starting from the sitting bone.
Stream B: directions up from the neck, leave the spine alone, or even send some directions downwards from the sitting bone.

Schematically, stream A has only one source for directions: the sitting bone. The neck's role is to stay out of the way, so that the upflow is not tampered with. Key to this is the forward in forward and up. This unlocks the neck.

Stream B, on the other hand, has two sources for directions: the neck (away from the spine), and the sitting bone (also away from the spine).

Both schemata (or mental representations) have their advantages, and I use both, depending on what I need (for instance, when I'm not "grounded" enough, it helps to send some directions downwards. Down is not that bad anyway, as long as it's out. Out in relation to the spine. In and out are much easier to use anyway, because they're not related to fixed locations or orientations. Out in relation to the spine is still out, even if I'm floating in space with no clue what's up or down.

It's funny: so much attention is given to where directions are going to, but I haven't heard much about where they're coming from. The source of directions, does it equal the source of inner energy? In that case, are there any similarities to be found between this source and, say, nervous centres, chakra's, that kind of thing?

About a year and a half ago, I was appointed solo soprano in my church choir. It was not that particularly wanted this, but our old soloist stopped singing, and I was more or less next in line. My voice is better than an average choir singer, I memorize scores very easily, I have perfect pitch, and I usually drag most of the others along.

But I'm not a soloist.

I know the technical stuff about singing, like breath support, the functioning of the vocal tract, sound characteristics and resonance. And at home and in the choir, I'm fine, but as soon as I have to sing on my own, I bolt, lock up, and loose control. Up till last week, I thought this was something that I had to learn to deal with, that it was just anxiety or stage fright.

But it's more than that, as I found out when I went 'sound checking' the church. This was something that I already wanted to do for a long time. The church building feels so huge that I let myself be intimidated, so I went there with my conductor, and just sang little bits and pieces while I walked around.

This was actually quite nice, until my conductor started making remarks, which were of course well meant, but they struck something within me which made me all sad and angry again. It's not that I felt critizised, but more that I didn't know what to do with the criticism. When a good teacher tells me I should do this and this, or stop so and so, I'm more than happy to leave some of my own ideas, and take over some of his.

But I don't know what to do with advice like "Put your chest forward, expand your ribs and make sure it stays that way" any longer. Even more because I can't connect to his world and make clear that those are the exact things I don't want to do anymore.

Problem is that I haven't found another way yet that does work. And everybody is used to me-with-a-great-voice, but what they cannot see is that I was misusing my self to produce it. So now, I have a not so great voice for the time being, but I'm (non-)doing much better underneath. I'm even considering the idea that there might be a Maaike who does not sing at all. And that doesn't feel too bad either.

Had a good, though predictable lesson.
- Don't sit on the lower back, but on the sitting bones.
- Eyes on the chin and cheeks works great for me, as soon as I even think of them, my head goes forward and up.
- Did some speaking exercises again; think of back as organ pipe.
- Spine is located in the middle of the body, not at the back (weird thing calling it 'back', when you come to think of it).

On the one hand, I really miss the direct and very confrontational style of my first teacher, but on the other, it's nice to have a teacher with a more practical style of teaching. I can directly apply most of the stuff that she teaches me, especially to my singing. I guess that the more profound personal development will have to take place outside lessons. And this happens. Boy, does this happen.

Not much news about AT, didn't have a lesson this week. But I very much enjoyed Chi Gong. My teacher remarked that my focus is very much on my head, on the heavens, and that I had little contact with the earth. We did some exercises to improve grounding, such as slowly raising one leg and standing on the other for a while. This was a very nice exercise to do, I felt very stable afterwards.

Another great exercise is the one with the "energy ball". We stand with our eyes closed and imagine that there is this high energy ball between our hands which we slowly squeeze together. When I just started Chi Gong, I saw this exercise purely as an act of imagination, but the last few lessons I really felt the energy, first as two warm spots in the middle of my hands, and later as a real ball.

And there's no mystery there at all. It's the same feeling as when you rub your hands together for a while, only without the rubbing. Actually, it's quite similar to what you feel after a good AT lesson: alive, sparking and very much in the here and now.

- Use sitting bones for sitting, not the lower back.
- Try the idea of me as an organ pipe.
- When at home, speak and sing some pieces while lying on the floor and watch what my head does.
- Try softening the shoulders, especially the right one is very active.

I like my new teacher's approach, she's very practical. Besides that, she has humor, and a very down-to-earth character. The only downside is that she really teaches for a living, which means that a lesson is always 45 minutes, always follows the same structure, and that I have to cancel an appointment 24 hours in advance so that she can fit in someone else. I'll have to take that into account when I plan my next flu.

This is of course a very normal way for things to go, but it makes me realise once more how very lucky I was with my first teacher; he did not have that many pupils, and lots of time for each one of them. After a lesson, I'd usually stay for a cup of tea (or two, or three) and discuss AT or just talk nonsense for a while. These talks were just as important to me as the lesson itself, because they made me realise that AT is not about primary control as a key to good use alone, but also about philosophy, about views on life and society and on myself.

It's a pity that I haven't met any other AT teachers so far that include this element in their teaching practice, because it's important. It is.