Move your stuff, bro.

It's interesting to me how many of my decisions are driven by whether or not there will be space for me. 

I want to go to the concert but parking is usually terrible. 

I want to spend time with my friends but what if they don't have space in their lives?

What if there aren't any tables at the busy Starbucks?

Just, go and find out, Juliana. Geez. There's literally no other way to find out. 

Thankfully, today, there was a table at the busy Starbucks. However, there was a guy there taking up ALL THE SPACE, making it challenging to claim the corner seat in the booth. I put my bag down in the opposite chair, put my computer on the table, generally spreading out my stuff. I couldn't believe that this bro hadn't moved any of his belongings out of my way. He was deep in concentration. There was NOTHING personal here. It's just so funny - I know that my habit when someone comes into my general orbit is to do anything and everything possible to *get out of their way*. This is 100% social conditioning. I almost admired that the bro at the table doesn't seem to have this programming.

Self Study: As I was unpacking my bag at this tiny table I noticed that I had stopped breathing. The muscles around my ribs were contracting, preventing their natural movement.  I needed to bend down to plug in my computer. The back of my neck was tense as I avoided the bro's general "bubble" while moving towards the outlet. I asked myself to remember that there was lots of space behind me even as I crouched forward. I noticed that to slide into the booth between my table and his table, my lower abdomen and lowest back muscles wanted to squeeze up so I wouldn't touch anything. But then I remembered that squeezing myself from within doesn't actually change the amount of space I take up on the outside. 

What do you notice about yourself when you're in someone's way? Or when you want to go somewhere and someone is in your way? Is there more movement in your body? Less? What would it be like to flow into the space available to you instead of squeezing yourself through and around the objects in your way? 

I did a better job of entering the space available to me than I used to but as I finish this little blog, the tenderness of my muscles that are used to squeezing in an attempt to keep me hidden are experiencing waves of tenderness. 

Get Out There!

The title of the this blog is the sample title that comes with the tutorial for setting up this blog. I thought it was appropriate because I am finally working on my website, thus, putting myself “out there.” Maintaining my website is a task that I can never keep up with but is currently even more challenging. I have been procrastinating on this task for over a year now, ever since I became a certified Alexander Technique teacher.

The journey towards certification and then towards where I am now is something I hope to share in bits and pieces on this blog. I have learned many lessons which have impacted my singing, my teaching, and my life. I feel like some part of those lessons could be useful to others as well.

So, in a fit of frustration, I booked myself a hotel room at the Jersey Shore, to get the massive stone rolling that is “putting myself out there.” The attached picture is the view. I have enjoyed watching the clouds float on by across this panoramic window and using the in-room coffee maker for hot water so I can eat ramen for lunch instead of a $30 salad downstairs. #travelhack

Self-Study: As I have been working today (navigating anxious thoughts around this project and my career in general), my curiosity was engaged by a familiar habit. I tend to favor sitting with more of my weight on the left side of my pelvis, triggering a pain on left side of my back where the bottom most part of my spine (the sacrum) meets the large bone at the top of my pelvis. Asking myself to remember that this part of myself is actually a part of my WHOLE body, noticing my two feet on the floor, and sending my head away from the keyboard brought some peace to my system.

And I can remind myself of this, as often as I want to, using the passing clouds as a gentle reminder.