SOMATIC TECHNIQUES — Discovering the Difference Between the External vs the Internal...

This is Part 30 of a serial blog originally titled 'Martha Carter's Healing Journey'. In Part 29, I share a recent story of waking up in the midst of a ‘healing crisis’; for seemingly no reason, muscle spasms forced me to stop, and a friend and teacher stepped in to help me figure out WHY. In Part 28, I explored scientific evidence, the mind-body-environment link, and causes of illness and related examples from some of Dr. Gabor Maté’s work in considering how his research might be applied towards investigating the ‘unknown’ root causes of scoliosis. Missed the earlier posts? Read Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8,  Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26 and Part 27.

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INTRODUCTION

Throughout this serial blog, I have been writing about my healing journey, starting with the removal of my Harrington rods in 1995 when I was 35 years old — until today, where I am quickly approaching 60. Eek! 

In some ways, I feel in better shape now than I was back then. That is because, regardless of the increasing wrinkles, extra flab, and age spots, I am much more mindful and aware about all aspects of my ‘soma'—my entire physical, emotional, intellectual, spiritual being—than I have ever been before. Part of this has to do with life experience, but most of it is due to my constant search for different ways to be comfortable with my mostly uncomfortable fusion. 

Yoga for Scoliosis, and yoga in general, has helped me tremendously, but I continue to find new layers of the ‘healing onion’ to explore.

My latest layer is addressing the trauma endured by anyone who goes through bracing and/or surgery, like myself. It has taken me years to realize that the trauma is real — and that it is deep. Based on my own experience, addressing trauma is as important as addressing alignment. It is all intertwined, because it is all part of the soma. 

During this past year, while researching ways to address trauma, I got very excited about a technique called Essential Somatics™ — and I delved right in.

My teacher guided us to coordinate our breath while performing gentle but very specific movements. She explained that with very mindful repetition, the exercises allow the brain to restore optimal function to the whole body. The exercises can reverse Motor Sensory Amnesia, waking up the body-mind connection, and reversing painful patterns as ‘offline’ muscles reconnect. I enjoyed every class—and with regular practice, I started to notice my body feeling more relaxed and alive. 

I was pain free and slept better. My heart and mind felt peaceful and calm.
My very cranky knee started working much better. MUCH better.
It felt miraculous.

Why didn’t I learn about this years ago?? Earlier in my life??

The irony of it all, is that I did.

I was actually introduced to somatic work over 30 years ago, but I just wasn’t ready for it. 
But I digress…

MY INTRO TO SOMATICS AS A DANCE STUDENT

When I took my first class in Essential Somatics™ just over a year ago, it felt faintly familiar, but then again, it is a lot like yoga, so of course it felt familiar. However, the more I have continued to study it since, the more I realize I HAVE been introduced to somatics before — I just didn’t understand it, or feel the need for it at that time, so I kind of forgot all about it! 

In fact, as a dance student at university, my curriculum included all kinds of somatic-style courses, but they were not called somatics. Instead, they had other names: Laban Movement Analysis, Body Mind Centering, Alexander technique, and Feldenkrais method.  

Wikipedia describes Somatics as: “A field within bodywork and movement studies which emphasizes the internal physical perception and experience.”

It goes on to say, “In dance, the term refers to techniques based on the dancer's internal sensation, in contrast with performative techniques such as ballet or modern, which emphasize the external observation of the movement by an audience.” 

As a young dance student, I was really only interested in ballet and modern dance classes. I wanted to be a performer and to watch other performers. All that mattered to me, and to most of the students, was to sweat it out during our two daily technique classes, grind through as many choreographies as possible, and perform as often as we were allowed. It was fun, exciting, competitive and glamorous. Who could get their leg higher? Who had the most beautiful arabesque? Who could do the most pirouettes? The highest jump? Even — who had the nicest feet?

We dreamed about touring the world with dance companies, or performing on Broadway, or getting hired to do a music video or TV commercial, or something else that would make us famous. To me, It didn’t really matter which one I was part of, I just wanted to turn up the music, kick, turn, jump and swirl, and be a part of the whole world of dance. I was addicted to the external, performative, audience-driven part of the art form. The subtleties of any kind of body work—or the idea that I would take time to observe my internal sensation—was completely lost on me. 

It’s not that I didn’t try... I was obliged to take the different courses. But the only parts I remember are the moments when I completely exposed my disinterest:

In my first Alexander workshop, my friend and I were partnered to work together. I am not sure what triggered it, but we found one of the exercises so silly that we started giggling — to the point where we had to remove ourselves from the class. Embarrassing! The second time, I actually signed up for a series of classes, but the teacher was so boring and pedantic, and the airless basement studio was so stuffy, that I fell asleep and woke up alone in an empty room. Embarrassing again! I dropped that class. The third time, during a Laban Movement Analysis class, I sat in the studio full of students feeling completely baffled and confused about why the teacher was asking us to feel the weight of our arms, and the space around our armpits. I just didn’t get it! And I wondered how that knowledge would ever benefit me on my path to becoming a choreographic superstar. For me, it just felt like a waste of my time when I could have been dancing instead.

Clearly, I wasn’t ready for it then!  

Even if the teachers were boring, the nuances and awareness required to understand somatic work were obviously a little too advanced for me at that time. I didn’t want internal sensation, I wanted external excitement: camera, lights, action and applause please! 

But to survive, I had to change.

I am now at a point in my life where subtle somatic techniques are not just making sense, they are actually becoming a huge part of my day-to-day approach to life!

What happened between then and now — and why did it take me so long to get here?

LIFE CHANGES

When I finished my dance degree, I was 25 years old and I felt strong and confident and, even with a fused spine, I was able to teach and choreograph and dance in my own way. I was thrilled to get a job teaching dance at a big university dance program. It wasn’t Broadway, but it was a grown up job with a real paycheque. Suddenly, I was teaching three or four different classes a day to different levels of students and I loved it! It felt like a perfect stepping stone on my own path towards becoming a performer and choreographer. I was wearing my leotard and leg warmers all day, every day. I was in heaven! 

But the bad habits started without my noticing. 

Mistake #1 — My schedule was so tight that I would often teach a class without taking my own warm up class, demonstrating the movements without properly preparing my body. 

Mistake #2 — Without realizing it, given each studio had a different kind of floor—with some being nice sprung dance floors and others being very hard surfaces—it didn’t take long before one knee started hurting and I was diagnosed with a stress fracture in my right femur. Of course, I just kept teaching anyways. The show must go on. 

Mistake #3 — Another day I had some sharp, shooting pains in my lower back, but I didn’t want to see a doctor for fear of being told to stop dancing, so I just ignored it and the pain eventually went away… sort of. 

Before long, my body started to feel less strong, I experienced pain, my leotards started to feel a bit snug, and I found myself focusing on teaching and choreographing, rather than on performing. My body just didn’t feel up to it. I couldn’t keep up with the rigours of virtuosic technique — except as a teacher who insisted that the students kept up.

Three strikes, I was out!
I was hurting — and I needed some help.

Thankfully, when I moved back to Canada to teach in Montreal, I found some. 

First of all, the approach to dance training at the university in Montreal was completely different. It was much more somatic. Without going into a detailed (if not very interesting!) history of the difference between the New York and Montreal dance scenes of the 1980’s, let me just say that the post-separatist landscape of Montreal at that time with its low rents, artistic culture, rebellious youth, and desire to be unique, encouraged/provided/allowed for a playground of movement research and experimentation that New York dance artists, with their high cost of living, could not possibly afford — especially after public funding became scarce. Quebec, on the other hand, was offering all kinds of grants for artistic research projects, especially ones that focused on movement innovation and individual expression. Montreal quickly usurped New York to become the North American capital of dance. 

At first, I didn’t understand it at all. The dancers, in general, were not nearly as technical in their movement as I was used to, and I was disappointed in what I perceived as their lack of interest in anything technical at all. Many of the students were ‘mature’ students, and most of them had very little ballet training. Some were older than me, but even with little or no training, they had some deep, creative impulse to explore and develop their own movement style. But how were they supposed to innovate with movement without any dance experience? How could they possibly choreograph without knowing any ‘steps’? It all seemed a bit flaky to me, and I felt confused regarding their confidence to take it on. And I wasn’t sure I liked any of the results either. During our monthly studio showings, many of the pieces didn’t have ‘dance’ steps at all. The performers would ‘move' around the stage in different ways — like the memorable sequence where a soloist performed the first half of the piece doing a headstand in a toilet placed in the middle of the stage. What happened to the idea of turning up the music to kick, turn, jump and swirl and be part of the whole world of dance? I was completely lost. 

However, when my back started to bother me again, something ‘clicked’ in me in a new way. Maybe it was the influence of the different approach to dance? Or the fact that the students had so much confidence in themselves, even without technique or perfect pirouettes? Or that watching someone dance with their head in a toilet literally turned my perspective upside down? Whatever it was, I started to crave new ways of moving and feeling. I began doing different body work, which led me to get my rods removed. For the first time in 21 years—since I had my original Harrington Rod surgery—I wanted to feel my spine. 

I was finally ready to go inside; to focus on the internal.

GOING INTERNAL

Montreal was ground zero of my healing journey, starting with this shift. It was the city where I met a reiki therapist who ‘awakened’ my rods; where I met the surgeon who reluctantly removed them; where I met Dawn the massage therapist who massaged away my scar tissues, and Shawn the trainer who got me strong again; where I had a clinical Alexander session that finally allowed me to understand the power of that technique; where I tried meditation and Taoist self-healing techniques that opened my eyes to how much pain I was mistakenly ignoring; where I had sessions with a compassionate and loving counselor who helped me with my grief; where I was introduced to Pilates and Yoga which made me confront my limitations; where I worked with dancers who inspired me to find comfort with my own movement again. 

The things I learned in Montreal helped me to finally go ‘inside’ and to learn how to trust my own sensations, feelings, instincts. 

But, how quickly we can forget!  The internal didn’t stick with me for long. As I felt better, I could do more, and I clearly still craved the external. The lights, camera, action. The glamour. The applause! 

In retrospect, the whole time I was exploring those therapies, I was just kind of waiting for them to help me get back to the way I ‘used' to be. And I am not even sure what I meant by that. The way I was BEFORE my fusion surgery in my early teens? Or when I was in top shape at dance school AFTER my surgery in my early 20s?

Obviously, I was still in denial. 

I knew that even with the removal of my rods, I would still always be stiff and limited in my movement. But that didn’t stop me, I was like: I feel better, so let’s dance!

When I had pains I didn’t understand, I didn’t yet realize it was my nervous system screaming, on constant ‘high alert'. I was defensive and didn’t really want to talk about my back for fear of not being taken seriously as a dance artist. I never wanted to admit that I was afraid of hurting myself, or that I felt weak, lesser, unhappy, and vulnerable. Around other dancers, I avoided mentioning it, and spent a lot of time pretending.

I didn’t understand that the whole point of somatic movement was not to ‘fix me’ so I could do things I wasn’t meant to do. It was actually a way to uncover and enjoy my own authentic movement and to move with ease; to make the most of what I had, regardless of my limitations; to find confidence in my fragile body — and accept myself that way. 

Duh.

BENEFITS OF SOMATIC TECHNIQUES — in dance and in general

So, what’s so great about somatic techniques anyways? 
And why would anyone other than dancers use them? What good do they do?

First of all, it’s important to understand that dance itself can be a very somatic experience, especially the more exploratory dance styles, like the ones I experienced in Montreal. I eventually understood that the techniques I mentioned previously, such as Laban and Body Mind Centering, are fantastic ways to build a dancer's awareness of their body in movement. They teach a person how to identify and sense their own natural postural tendencies and habitual movement patterns, helping to either evolve them or to completely change them. They assist each person to find their own maximum movement potential, uncovering their unique qualities. For choreographers, these techniques teach creative ways to bring out movement in their own bodies, as well as in other dancers, offering innovative ways to explore and experiment in time and space. In other words, they give each person-dancer-creator invaluable tools for their trade. But, in general, non-dancers don't usually study them, as they are quite specific to dance. 

But techniques such as Alexander, Feldenkrais and Yoga — and Somatics — are wonderful ways for anyone to go inside themselves; to feel from the inside out; to experience sensation in the whole soma. And by doing this, we learn to self-sense, self-monitor and self-regulate, eventually tapping into our body’s innate wisdom to heal itself. And then, once we understand how to do that, we forever have the power to help ourselves overcome any issues that might arise - of the mind, body and spirit.

I came across this quote from the website of my dear friend from dance school, Sharon Kraus, who was with me in those boring Alexander classes! Her words say it all:

The body's innate wisdom takes precedence over what any of us think we know. Accessing, listening to, and allowing that innate force to work is the priority in all forms of treatment.

REFLECTING BACK

It seems obvious to me now that my disinterest in feeling any subtle internal sensations was because I didn’t know how to feel them. My youthful desire to have an able dancing body, regardless of my scoliotic fusion, was driven by complete and total naivety, coupled with fear and delusion. I was lying to everyone — especially myself. I was driven by my love of the art of dance as well as a stubborn need to prove the doctors wrong. I danced for years ‘pretending’ because I was terrified of facing it. I had zero understanding about my scoliosis and fusion as nobody had ever told me anything, and I didn’t really want to ask. I was not ready for internal sensation because I had turned it off.

Since the age of 14, I had been wearing an invisible armour around my torso that felt like the exact shape of the (several) plaster body casts I had worn during my year of medical procedures — and I had no idea how to get rid of it. I knew how to kick my legs high, turn and swirl, and the audience would applause, never noticing that I couldn’t really bend my spine. I had become an accomplished choreographer, finding satisfaction in getting dancers to move in ways that I was never able to move. I had found a way to be part of the world of dance without really being able to fully ‘dance’ myself, and I was living in fear of being found out. I felt like a fraud. 

For some reason, I just couldn’t get it through my head that I could dance any way I wanted to, and that there are as many ways to dance as there are bodies. Dancing without rigorous technique felt like giving up; like failure. And giving up was the last thing I wanted to do. 

Ironically, it would have been the best thing for me. If I could have just trusted everything in front of me — everything I was being exposed to — I bet I could have saved myself a lot of trouble. 

But it’s never too late! I have found Essential Somatics™ now, and I am loving ‘sensing from the inside out’ on a daily basis. This work has affected me so dramatically that it even sent me into healing crisis (as I wrote about in my last blog). And since that time, my spine and my body in general continue to feel increasingly flexible and pain-free. And it is clear to me that this is just the beginning — there are more benefits and more positive changes to come! Stay tuned...

Meantime, in my next blog, I delve into more detail on why I feel Somatics for Scoliosis and Fusions may be the greatest discovery ever!

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