I do a course of African drumming at our local music center. It's the second season, and it's great fun. We're with seven or eight people; each weak we learn a rhythm, and once that's settled, we improvise. Improvisation is new to me; in classical singing, everything is more or less fixed. I like it a lot, it's a whole new way of looking at music, and it seems to fit me really well.

What I really like about my djembe is that it's a noisy instrument. When I sang, especially the last few months when I didn't really want to sing, I turned into a kind of non-singer: I sang as quietly as possible, only with my head, almost. That's quite impossible with a djembe. You cannot not-hit it, even the slightest tap already causes quite some noise. When I practise at home, I usually shove a pillow inside the drum, so that my neighbours will notice less. Today, I didn't, and the sound was just booming through my appartment. Cool!

This week, we got an extra challenge: drumming and singing at the same time. Aaaaaaargh! It's alright when the rhythm of the song matches the rhythm that we're drumming, but when the song goes off beat, off sync or whatever you call it, it gets really tricky. My hands tend to go along with my voice, or my voice wants to do what my hands do. After some practise, I got most of it, but it still requires a conscious effort. The best way I've found so far is to treat the syllables of my voice as taps on the drum and thus kind of integrate them with the drumming rhythm.

And if that weren't enough, it's also a nice way to do some AT work, like realising that my arms start at the bottom of my spine, shoulders are part of my back, and arms should have an out-and-round tendency.

It's been a while since I've written something here. That's partly because I haven't had AT lessons for four months. On the one hand, that's a pity, but on the other, it is also a good indicator of progress, whatever that may mean. The first AT-less period I went through, which was also about six months, I felt very unsure of how to 'do' AT on my own. I didn't understand how to internalize AT to such an extent that it could be useful to me outside lessons. As a result, I started doing things, started worrying about things, started blaming myself for not understanding, in short, started a lot of things, except leaving myself alone.

This time, it's different. I notice that:
- If I really wish to leave my self alone, I should have the confidence in my self. Not just by saying or thinking so, but by believing, with every cell in my body and every thought in my mind, that my self is capable, not only of handling the daily things that I encounter in life, but also in realising my dreams and facing my fears.
- My self can do this on its own, with no interference of me. I should allow it to do so, any 'help' from my side is bound to nip any kind of freedom in the bud.
- My self should never, ever be compromised, not by me, let alone others.
- Change is sometimes extremely painful and undefined. When I'm in the middle, I doubt whether I'm doing the right thing, if it's all worth it, if my decisions are the right ones. But if I keep with myself, and listen, really listen, I know what to decide.
- There's a difference what's good for me, and what's good for someone else.

Sometimes, it's just so overwhelming and paradoxical. I release my neck, and the world turns upside down. When I look for something, I find nothing, but when I look for nothing, I find everything. And that really sucks sometimes.

Found some snippets in my 'Draft' folder.

Inhibition comes from latin 'in-habeo' or 'inhibere' and means to keep in, to hold against, and also, to row backwards or to stop rowing. It may also mean to use, to apply or to practise.

When I try to tell people about AT, I sometimes feel like a Tellsell presenter: "Wow Mike, this is an amazing discovery! Alexander Technique clears your skin, improves your relationships, makes you a better photographer and decreases your dress size, and this all without artificial colourings! And if we all do it, we get world peace!"
Now why don't people believe me?

One of the things I was told last lesson, was not to help. It's funny, this has happened to me a million times before, but that moment, it struck me that helping is quite a complex concept. It's something that we all perceive as good; helpfulness is something that is appreciated and stimulated in our society. But when you come to think of it, helping someone is not always the virtue it seems to be.
My helping was the result of a number of misconceptions, like:

• I think I know what my teacher's intentions are (whereas, in reality, I don't. Even more, I shouldn't care about whether he lets me land up side down on my head, as long as I stick with my part- maintaining an unhindered upflow);


• I think these intentions are more easily reached when I do something (the opposite of which is true- by obstructing a free flow up along my spine, I am not helping but impeding things);


• I think my teacher expects me to do something;


• On a deeper level, I'm afraid that the lack of visible action equals a lack of interest, care or concern from my side.

"When you stop doing the wrong thing, the right thing will do itself" does not equal "When you stop doing the wrong thing, the nice thing will do itself".

On the AT list, some very thought provoking discussion is going on. One of the posts contained a quote from Macdonald, saying that AT is "like unto a treasure hid in a field, the which, when a man hath found, he hideth, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he hath and buyeth that field."

This quote is from a part of Matthew that I've always found quite bewildering. At first sight, the meaning of this parable seems perfectly clear: in order to gain a full understanding of the Kingdom of God (the original subject of this metaphor), to fully experience faith, you give up everything else. Good old straighforward Christianity: give up everything you've got, and with a bit of luck, you'll end up with the good guys.

But why 'for joy'? And why 'selleth'? These words don't really fit into a picture of someone sacrificing everything he's got. Rather, they give the impression of someone who stumbled over an unexpected treasure in a field, someone who can't believe his luck, and is more than happy to sell all the things he has, which are all of a sudden not that important anyway, because he's able to buy something much greater. It's about someone who acts out of self-interest, not because he thinks the act of giving up itself is a virtuous thing to do. Perhaps it's not so much about giving up, but about letting go. Joyfully, without remorse or grief. And that's a comforting thought.