I experience earth-moving epiphanies and mind-blowing change every time I go to a Rolf Movement workshop. I love Rolf Movement workshops. I experience sense-numbing terror and frightful disorientation every time I go to one of these workshops. I hate Rolf Movement workshops.

The setting was a Rolf Movement workshop on perceptual core stability, taught by Kevin Frank, Certified Advanced Rolfer and Rolf Movement Faculty, with Caryn McHose, Certified Rolfer, assisting. The point of playing with our perception and how we orient was to work with how our bodies organize in preparation for movement. When we have a sense of the ground under our feet and an awareness of our surroundings, then core stability is available to us, even before we are in motion. The stability we were seeking is the stability of ease rather than that of effort. So we, as a class, sought core stability through our perception of the ground and the sky.

Since body experience is the best teacher, Kevin started every morning with a few minutes of activity as a group. Often, in group movement, he would ask us to notice how we oriented to the space and to the other people as we walked around the room. And right off the bat, the seemingly innocent directive to “notice how you orient” would send me into a tailspin.

I couldn’t figure out what in the world I was supposed to be noticing. “Notice how you orient” took a distant place in the back of my brain as I navigated my way through a space filled with randomly moving people. I would move through the room, looking for the least crowded spot. I felt anxious and unfocused and somewhat ridiculous. I should be able to walk around a room of people I like and notice how I orient. This should not be a big deal. But at the same time, all I knew was that every cell in my being wanted me to get out of that room.

I felt so tense that afterwards, when we sat down together, I had trouble focusing enough to make out the words that anyone was saying. “Sense-numbing terror and frightful disorientation” is not really an exaggeration. I was pleased, however, that during this workshop, I was able to gather myself and settle myself down in only a few hours. In past workshops, I had needed an entire day or more.

In hindsight, what I came to understand is that I orient to motion. This means a small space with a lot of random motion is literally disorienting. My nervous system tries to track all of the motion in order to cue me toward the least amount of activity, a ‘safe’ place to head for.

I was quite proud of myself for getting through the tissue-throwing exercise where we partnered up and tossed tissues at one another. As we took turns pelting each other with wafting tissues, I played with shifting my gaze from a sharp focus to a more wide, peripheral focus, as directed. I was relieved to notice my anxiety easing considerably. I only realized how anxious I still was when we took a lunch break right after we finished the exercise. Then I noticed I was looking at lunch options as “Do I eat, or do I leave the country?” After a long walk, I was finally able to settle down enough to eat something and go back for class that afternoon.

I had a lot of resources available to help me get through the workshop. When it wasn’t raining, I could swim in the lake. I had several mindless novels to turn to and a variety of games on my iPhone. The guesthouse we were all staying in was big enough to get away from people when I needed quiet, and when I was ready to interact, I was there with a remarkable group of individuals. In addition, there was the market down the road with homemade ice cream brownie sandwiches and a fine selection of local beer.

On the fourth day of the workshop, we started playing with Serge Gracovetzky’s idea that there are pathways of kinetic energy that are passed from the feet to the spine which help with walking. These have been called Gracovetsky’s ‘chains’, and they relate to three dimensions of movement in walking. Our goal was to free the spine by moving independently from the shoulder and pelvic girdles in order to express rotation, elongation, and trunk stability. To accomplish this, we paired up to explore one of Kevin’s table-work activities.

My partner, Kathy, had me start out by lying supine on the table with my feet against the wall. She cued me to feel the support of the table against my back and to feel into the wall with my feet. This felt supportive and relaxing to me. Then, according to the instructions of the activity, she asked me to press my toes into the wall while I moved my soft gaze up over my head.

Here, everything fell apart for me. I was not able to coordinate pressing with my feet and shifting my gaze at the same time. I could feel my throat tightening and my breath becoming very, very shallow. My eyes didn’t want to soften. I was frustrated because it seemed like this should be so easy.

When Kathy understood that using my gaze wasn’t working, she checked in with Kevin for help. He suggested she might try working with a different sense. So, Kathy asked me to press my toes into the wall while sensing with my skin.

Noticing what I was feeling ‘on’ my skin didn’t capture my interest. But the idea of being ‘in’ my skin was a notion I liked a lot. I visualized myself filling my skin up from the inside out. This experience was completely different from trying to use my gaze. I felt powerful. I felt confident and clear. I was able to look at my experience with curiosity rather than dread. I was excited to continue with the exercise, instead of feeling the need to search for a way to get through it until it was over. I found the rest of the exercise a joy in which to participate.

The next morning, we started again with a different movement activity. Instead of anticipating it with apprehension, I was curious to see how my response might have changed. Throughout the activity, I was able to refer back to my discovery from the day before and focus on the feeling of filling my skin from the inside out. I was overjoyed to discover that being in a room full of moving people didn’t send me reeling.

Later, I met my next challenge. We were playing with the idea of feeling vectors of direction from our knees, heel bones, toes, pelvic rami, and a wooden stick in our hands. The point was to move as a group, bending our knees while feeling supported and maybe finding a sense of expansion. Kevin asked us to reach out beyond ourselves to the perimeter of the room, and then farther, past the room to the edge of the property. The purpose of the exercise was to find out to what extent we could be present in our bodies while expanding our awareness.

Playing with my newfound sense of filling my skin from the inside out, I was able to participate without feeling a need to run away. Later, while talking to people about the class and what we did, I realized I had only a vague memory of that afternoon. Apparently, I can either track movement or retain information, but not both. I would really like to find a new way to orient to the world around me.

As a result of this workshop, I’m starting to think that in addition to being pain-free, relaxed, and open, normal movement is also being able to interact with others while staying connected to the ground and being aware of the larger surroundings. In this open groundedness, my response to circumstances is completely different than the experience of when I’m stuck in reaction to everything around me. Being in my old reactionary pattern, my only option is to struggle through whatever activity is going on until I have a chance to leave.

When I find a way to stay present in my body during an activity, then my old pattern doesn’t get to have a say. I don’t have to pretend that I’m doing all right or simply be a token participant in a conversation when, in my head, I’m looking for the next flight out of the country. I can look around a room and see people whose company I enjoy, moving and sharing an experience with me.

I don’t know yet how my orienting will change. Now that I’m aware of my orientation to movement and how disorienting this can be, I’m curious to see how I might relate to my surroundings in a new way. Awareness is the first step to change.

This is why I love Rolf Movement workshops. They turn my world inside out. Every time, I come out moving more freely and more connected to who I am. This is what Rolfing® Structural Integration does for me. And this is what I want to help my clients discover in themselves.My Love – Hate Relationship with Rolf Movement® Integration[:]