My past few weeks have been full of ecstatic connection:  After teaching the dance of Contact Improvisation at Breitenbush Hot Springs during their ‘Ecstatic Reopening,’ with DJ Baron Von Spirit, I continued on to the Solar Living Center in Hopland, CA to teach ‘Cultivating Physical Freedom’ at the Building Resilient Communities Permaculture Convergence .

My dictionary defines the word ‘ecstatic’ in the following two ways:

1 feeling or expressing overwhelming happiness or joyful excitement: ecstatic fans filled the stadium.

2 involving an experience of mystic self-transcendence: an ecstatic vision.

So how do we find overwhelming happiness and self-transcendence?  My favorite answer is to connect with myself in my body.  It is my home for this lifetime.  I believe motion and emotion are always in relationship with each other, the body being the most effective gateway we have to overwhelming happiness or mystic self-transcendence.  Meanwhile, minds and bodies are so easily uncomfortable:  To connect with my body is to discover both that I am not in control of my experience and that I participate in shaping my reality.  Ironically, we cannot be free in our bodies if we are always trying to bind them through control.  Feelings of freedom, happiness, and transcendence are often available, and the pathway to get there is about connection, not control.

Contact Improvisation and Permaculture share connection as their essential teaching.  Contact improvisation is literally the dance of meeting at our edges—a dance in which we explore physical connection with each other.  Permaculture suggests that generative connection is the nature of nature:  We are living systems, made up of living systems, and participating in living systems.  We are nature:  In lieu of controlling resources, we can respectfully collaborate with the living being of our natural world.  In lieu of controlling our bodies, we can discover them as our natural home—the first place we respect and collaborate with nature’s intelligence.  As living systems we interact at our edges.  We communicate with each other and with our live earth by moving our bodies.

That said, Contact Improvisation and Permaculture aren’t necessarily for everyone.  I come to Contact Improvisation through the unusual privilege of a professional dance career and a graduate degree.  Yet, my permaculture practice—my generative gift—is to translate these experiences so that you can connect with your natural body at home in your living room.  I am driven to help you find the ecstatic connection to your body that I consider our birthright.  I believe you can find it whether your body hurts, whether you barely notice it, or whether you’re an elite athlete.  I think you can develop an ecstatic connection with your body in 15 minutes a day in your living room.

Physical Freedom Method is the online class I am creating to help you connect with your body’s innate wisdom.  It will launch very soon.  Click here to begin for free, and to secure a discount on the full membership experience.  Invite your friends and share your experiences with each other.  If you’re in Boise, stay tuned to the calendar for upcoming dance dates and workshops!  I’ll be bringing Contact Improvisation to Boise beginning November 19^th!

https://youtu.be/5TtyQeLU6Do

I have a great interest in how we learn to embody affirmations. My Physical Freedom Method affirms that we are supported, and that we are at home in our bodies. Gravity and our contact with Earth literally support us; intentionally experimenting with that connection provides the direct sensation of being supported. We can practice feeling supported. Similarly, we can practice feeling at home in our bodies because we are literally indigenous to them—we naturally occur there. We may not always feel at home in our bodies, just like we may not always feel supported, but if we practice noticing eventually we will get there. These sorts of affirmations work for me because I can test them—practice reliably helps me feel these things. In contrast to embodied affirmations such as these, repeating an affirmation I don’t truly believe, and which I can’t test, causes me to become even more skeptical.

My latest project in embodied affirmation has been “I am not alone.” I’ve tried a few takes on it. One has been to notice all the different parts of myself, physically and emotionally, and to encourage communication between different parts of myself. This has helped me to some degree, but I still consider all of these parts to be “me,” so it is only a partial answer. On a vision quest a year ago I learned to commune with other beings in new ways, from plants and animals to the larger whole that Gaia represents to me. I am of Gaia, and with Gaia. By definition I cannot be alone because I am part of the greater being of life on Earth. This feels good to recognize and enact through meditation, hiking, singing, and dancing. Yet, I continue to look for ways to improve my relationships with other humans. I still feel quite alone sometimes!

The statement “dance like nobody is watching,” has long felt incongruous to me. The intention is clearly that I dance like myself, but it also promotes feeling alone. My ongoing desire for human connection has given me a different take. It can be quite uncomfortable to allow myself to be seen, but when I dance like you’re watching I prove that I am not alone. I simultaneously practice dancing like myself. I do so generously: Generosity flows in many directions when we witness each other and show up in our own vulnerability. Still, if I am primarily seeking validation by dancing for you the dance is no longer generous. Generous dancing gives something energetically—in full vulnerability, and with love. It is not about dancing ‘well,’ but rather about being present with intention. I believe this is available to any of us—to dance generously like everyone is watching. We are not alone.

My purpose is to generate meaningful connection with people who care about our shared world through physical freedom and flow. My experience is that we can realize our full potential individually and collectively when we engage with our moving, feeling bodies. I’d like to offer an opportunity for us to do this online together next Wednesday May 31^st from 1-2pm MST. I will host a free zoom (video chat) meeting in which we can witness and move with each other. We can practice feeling that we are not alone. Are you interested? Does that scare you, excite you, or interest you? As a generous event, the purpose of this meeting is to support you, so we’ll start gently and you’ll always have the ability to regulate your own participation. Witnessing is itself a form of generosity! To join use the link below, and also please send me an email to let me know you’re interested in being present. The technicalities of this are a bit new to me, but having your email will help me connect you. Also, make sure to download zoom at http://www.zoom.us

Matthew Nelson is inviting you to a scheduled Zoom meeting.

Join from PC, Mac, Linux, iOS or Android: https://zoom.us/j/209759644

Or iPhone one-tap (US Toll): +14157629988,209759644# or +16465687788,209759644#

Or Telephone:

Dial: +1 415 762 9988 (US Toll) or +1 646 568 7788 (US Toll)

Meeting ID: 209 759 644

International numbers available: https://zoom.us/zoomconference?m=5sbd5OLpORSeIPRSsxewxs9WBxAGRxXl

I spent some time today exploring Pinterest because people have told me I should be using it. The cyberworld clearly knows who I am—I was barraged with images of skeletal alignment, fascia-busting devices (as if fascia was something dangerous), and muscles glowing red. I could barely take it. I lasted about five minutes before I had to walk away.

Now I’m left trying to understand why these images were troubling for me. These are the communications that have successfully engaged people about their bodies and given them some tools for understanding their experiences. Why does this challenge me?

I realize I was asking myself to identify with these images as something that I should want to participate in. I hesitate and tremble because these images feel so incomplete as an explanation for why we get ‘out’ of alignment, and how we might best respond to our predicaments. I’ve written in the past about the importance of remembering that we aren’t machines. We can try new stretches, exercises, and manipulations, and with any luck some of them will work to enliven us. What I find missing in these diagrams is this aliveness: When we bring attention to our bodies we are exploring who we are. My left pectoralis minor muscle tends to be tight in part because that’s how I protect myself from sadness. There’s a part of me that feels unlovable and unreachable there, and that I’ll never quite fit in. This part of me contracted when I started looking on Pinterest. I can stretch that puppy all day long, but if I’m not addressing the emotional pattern (it’s relaxing as I write this) nothing will change. This can be a bit confounding—how do we address these more abstract physio-emotional patterns?

We can practice being more expressive in order to allow ourselves to change in due time. My tight pectoralis minor is a part of me, and he’s been doing his best to take care of other parts of me. I love him, and when I massage and stretch him I honor the protection he offers my heart. Sometimes I forget and curse him for making me so uncomfortable. At these times he grabs on tighter, perhaps protecting me from myself. I’m part of a men’s circle in which we tell our stories. We express to each other (and ourselves) what we’re experiencing in our lives. We don’t give advice unless it’s asked for. We aren’t there to fix or be fixed. I almost always leave feeling better than I did when I arrived. Participating in the health and movement of our bodies is a form of expression; charts of muscles, alignment, and connective tissue don’t show that.

The images that I most enjoyed on Pinterest were pictures of people experiencing emotions, of geometric figures that displayed flow, and of nature not mechanized. Don’t get me wrong—I love a good gadget—but I don’t want to be one. That’s why I’m a movement therapist. Connective tissue massage, pilates exercises, alignment evaluations and dances are all tools for being more alive and connected. As I start to build my pinterest board I’ll be seeking images that inspire these feelings. Stay tuned…

I’m wondering if you’d try something for me:  Please write your name—optimally with pen on a piece of paper, but even with your index finger on any surface will work.  Do this before you read any further.

Now for some reflection:  Did you think about how to organize your fingers to pick up the pen (if you used one)?  Did you attend to the exact shape of each letter?  Did you consciously stabilize your shoulder and elbow to better control your wrist?  Did you purposefully move your eyes?  Almost surely you did not.  You just did these things.  This is good, or the whole activity would probably have been a bit overwhelming.

Imagine a toddler learning to write their name.  For a two year old each of the aspects I mentioned would take direct and exacting attention.  It would be worthy of great praise and support.  How did we as adults reach the point that these tasks became possible without much conscious thought?  We created patterns.  We do this all the time.  Everything we do; every movement we make, is a pattern.  These patterns make it possible for us to do ever more complex tasks.  We stand up and sit down—patterns.  Walking is a pattern made up of patterns.

When we bring attention to patterns we can become beginners again.  This can be very useful when our patterns aren’t optimal for the tasks we’re trying to accomplish.  I teach people to break down patterns like walking so that they can resolve chronic pain or perform better physically.  Try walking very slowly and find that balance gets far more difficult to maintain.  It can be comedic (and frustrating) to watch our ability to do basic things disappear when we bring attention to how we do them!

With the New Year people are often inspired to created resolutions—an intention to change something in our actions.  Sometimes we take on deeply engrained patterns in ourselves with the hope and belief that changing them will better our lives.  This year I’m looking at resolutions differently: ‘ Resolution’ suggests completion.  A problem is resolved when it is solved, or no longer a problem.  So instead of looking forward, I’m looking back.  What has resolved as we come in to a new year?  What changes have already happened?  I spontaneously witness myself doing and perceiving some things differently in my own life.  I’ve found that I’m enjoying meditation.  I now encourage myself to meditate even when I might be drawn to watch something on Netflix instead.  These resolutions we’re already enacting strike me as the ones most likely to be maintained through continued practice.  Does this seem true to you?

We are our patterns.  Resolutions for action are unlikely to succeed unless they begin with who we already are.  Awareness—attention to what we’re already doing—is powerful medicine.  With awareness we can discern the shifts and resolutions that are already taking place, and we can participate actively.

If you notice that you’re interested in investing in physicality and awareness I’d love to be a resource for you.  I invite you to come join me in the classes, workshops, and sessions below.  I am available for customized pattern engagement—movement therapy and coaching—as well, including by skype.

Happy New Year.  May you revel in being.

Imagine that you have no idea what a roller coaster is. It’s your birthday! A friend offers that they have an awesome surprise for you. You take the dare. Your friend blindfolds you, puts you on a roller coaster, straps you in, and then takes your blindfold off. The boarding area is covered and you’re sitting far enough back that you can only really see the cars and the people in them. Take a moment and imagine the expressions on the faces of the people around you, and the things they might be saying or doing. How are you feeling as you take in their excitement? How does your own body feel? Remember, you have no idea what this thing does—you don’t even know that it runs on a track.

Your car begins moving, leaving the loading area. There’s a repetitive clicking sound as you start up your first hill. You see the sky, and the sun is bright in your eyes. At the top, time seems to stand still for a moment, and then you’re in motion. People around you start to scream. What are you feeling in your body at this moment? What are you thinking?

What do you want to do, strapped into this car with these screaming people? Are you screaming? Are you gripping on to the restraints? Are you trying to get out? What emotions do you imagine that you’re experiencing? Personally, I’d be terrified. I imagine that I’d likely think I was about to die, and I’d probably confirm this noticing that everyone was screaming around me. I might even attempt to break free of the restraints holding me safely in the car.

I think we ride rollercoasters because they’re safe places to explore our fears. I experience a bit of the same sensibility when I fly on an airplane. The sensations we experience in these situations can be intense! Engaging with intensity and the fear that often results can actually be fun when we know we are safe. On rollercoasters and airplanes I never feel safe, but I know that I am safe. I’m more likely to die crossing the street. When we engage with fear we knock just a little bit at death’s door, and then we get to experience the joy and gratitude of vitality.

Now imagine all the other intense sensations you might experience in your body on any normal day. Pain and even pleasure can bring up remarkable amounts of fear. Life is a rollercoaster, and none of us are going to make it out alive. If we never get on the roller coaster of our own sensations, and our own fears, we won’t experience the thrill of being alive that goes with them.