My shoulder has been giving me trouble for a couple of weeks already. I cannot really find a specific cause; I haven't been doing strange things, no weird twists or turns, no extreme sports. I have been extremely lazy in self-maintenance though. Working way too hard, doing way too much and letting way too little.

My AT teacher already noted that my right arm was very active, and she worked with the shoulder a couple of times, but it didn't really help. I've been slowing down on the computer work, not using the mouse for two weeks, obeying my 'Beeldschermtachograaf' (a software program that monitors my computer workload and forces me to have loads of annoying-but-necessary breaks) all the time, but I still felt my shoulder.

So last friday, I went to see my chiropractor. The one I used to see once or twice a year didn't work at the practice anymore, but they offered an appointment with another one. It was an interesting experience. Within two seconds, he located my problem: extremely stiff lower back (duh...I've had one for 30 years), and stiff connections between two ribs and the spine. Contrary to my first chiropractor (who literally jumped on my back and gave me a headache for the rest of the week), this one didn't 'crack' anything. Rather, he did some really heavy pushing on my lower back and rib cage, and a rather gentle crack of the head. I feel pretty OK now, only very, very tired.

My back is much more loose now, and it's actually much easier to send directions along my spine. I always see my chiropractor visits as an emptying of my slate, where I promise myself to do more lying down, inhibition and direction. But AT is a bit like flossing your teeth really. It takes such a long time for it to become a habit...

Someone googled this term and ended up here. To that someone: I'd be really interested in what exactly didn't work for you. What were your expectations? Why did you start AT? What do you mean by 'didn't work?'

I've had numerous occassions where I was quite sure that AT didn't work for me either. Some of my problems got worse. Others became different. None of them disappeared, and it took me some time to realize that this is OK too, because some things that I experienced as problematic just turned out to be, well, me. I guess. And since I cannot delete me, I'd better learn to accept me and look at me from a different perspective.

Oh, and I don't believe that AT is the holy grail, even though I'm completely hooked to it.

A while ago, my teacher proudly told me about a one of her pupils who, after only a few AT lessons, decided that this is what she had been looking for all her life and moved on to teacher training almost straight away.

I don't know, but somehow, I didn't share my teacher's enthusiasm about this. It just sounded wrong. I cannot speak for this pupil of course, but after just a few lessons, I myself could not grasp even the slightest notion of Alexander's principles, let alone put them in practise, let alone put them on practise on someone else.

Of course, the first few lessons were fun: all of a sudden, I was presented with a host of new possibilities, things I didn't even think possible in my wildest dreams, like standing straight, catching balls, enjoying movement. I had my share of flying out of the chair through the ceiling, lying on the table wishing I could stay there forever, leaving the lesson with a head so clear that I thought everybody could see through it.

But that's the outside of AT. After the initial surprise and wonder wore off, I faced the real challenge: really, truly confronting myself, and stopping the storytelling and daydreaming that I had been doing most of my life. I had to face the fact that the control I claimed to have over myself was nothing short of deception; instead I had to learn to trust true rational reasoning enough for me to give up this control and see what would happen next, without knowing what would come. It's a very intense process, most of the time a fun and rewarding one, sometimes a sad and painful one. And it takes time, lots of time. I am still learning every day (and expect- and hope- to be doing so for the rest of my life).

That is why my teacher's story makes me suspicious and also a bit sad. Suspicious, because the more lessons I take with different teachers, the more I wonder to what extent they teach inhibition and direction, rather than 'just' posture. I hear stories of pupils who had the thirty lessons and walked out the door happy and 'cured'. Cured Schmured. AT is not a cure, it is a way. I used to become so insecure by these stories ("How come I'm not cured yet? I've been doing AT for years, and I'm still a beginner!"), but I try not to be anymore.

Sad, because if I had been in the pupil's place, I'd rather have my teacher protect me against myself, simply by saying 'Don't rush, you have plenty of time to become a teacher, if that is what you truly want. Why not find out a bit more about yourself first, because chances are that you might change quite a bit after having had lessons for some more months/years/ a lifetime.'

And of course, there is an unsuspecting third party out there: the pupil, who will come to a teacher, not to support that teacher's need for, or interest in AT work, but to fix a problem. Pupils are not primarily a means for AT teachers to progress on the AT way or to contribute to their teaching experience; they are real people with real needs that are looking for guidance, for help. Their emotional and physical problems can be heavy; to deal with them properly, a teacher needs both altruism and egoism (to help where he can, but also to recognise when enough's enough). I honestly wonder how you can deal with this if you yourself have just taken the first few steps into Alexander Technique.

I don't know why this topic affects me the way it does; it really gets on my nerves. Perhaps it's because when I ask teachers why they became teachers, they often respond "Because I wanted more exposure to AT, I wanted more hands-on experience, I wanted more AT lessons [during teacher training], because I was good at it". I haven't heard a single one replying "Because I want to help other people."

People always tell me that I have a little monkey called coincidence sitting on my shoulder. And it's true, things keep happening to me all of the time. For instance, when I moved house last year, my appartment had many empty walls. Just when I decided that it was time for action, an art student rang my doorbell; he sold his own work, which looked great on my walls.

It was also coincidence that put me in contact with my chi gong teacher. About one year ago, I was somewhere at the other end of the country for a meeting, and on my way back, I had to take another train than the one I'd usually take. It was quite late, so the train was completely empty, except for a tiny old Chinese man who was reading. It's funny, but somehow, I felt like sitting close to him, so I sat down opposite to him. We started talking, and he pointed out things about we which completely surprised me, like the fact that I had a weak liver (I've had glandular fever [Pfeiffer's disease] when I was 22).

Then he started to talk about Chi Gong, and this immediately got me interested. But since we were in a train quite far from my hometown, I assumed that he must live too far away for me to follow lessons. But it turned out that he taught only 15 minutes away from where I work. Speaking of coincidence...

Not much happening AT-wise lately; I still have lessons every other week, but it feels more like being on an AT maintenance program than that I actually learn something, get new insights or things like that. That's OK, especially since the last few weeks have been extremely heavy work-wise: lots of deadlines, lots of unclear situations, lots of absent managers, and lots of shoulder complaints. At least, AT has given me the sensibility to back out before things get too bad, but still, it's not always as easy. In such times, it's nice to get some proper realignment...Wadiwadiwa...Bladibladibla...

O, come on, who am I kidding? I'm bored stiff during lessons. Perhaps it's time to bring this up with my teacher, so that we can change some things.