I hate that sound — "Ehehhehhehh!"
It means I’m wrong. I’m bad. I’m busted.
It means I may not pass go, I may not collect $200.
For 43 years, people have been saying "Ehehhehhehh!" to me.
It means I can’t get away with anything.
I’ve got to stop pushing, punching, provoking the girlies.
My first year of Alexander Technique teacher training was straight forward. Until now.
Over the past six weeks, I’ve learned how to put hands on. Prior to this, I was just working on myself.
Now I get to put my bloody mitts on people lying on a table, but the teachers watch me closely and they keep going "Ehehhehhehh!"
Then I have to step away, think my directions, and start again.
I know the teachers only want to help me with my use, but it is humiliating.
If it was only teach and I, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but this takes place in front of the victims. That’s what I find humiliating. It tells people I’m not safe, that I don’t have a license to practice Alexander Technique.
I’m told to get my thinking right, my monkey right, before I put hands on. Frankly, I’m the kind of guy who only feels right once he’s got his hands on. Then I can start breathing. But this doesn’t cut it with the powers that be.
I’m told to attain my length and width before I put hands on.
All this criticism makes me I feel like I’m not good enough. That I’m less than. That I’ve failed.
I want to be smooth. I want to march right up, lay my student out with just the right number of National Geographics under her head, put my bloody mitts on her, keep up a lively conversation across the room with my mates about who we did this weekend, and then think my directions, letting my head go forward and up, and my fingers lengthening, not grabbing, the victim.
In short, I want to walk up and impart my magic with my warm hands and loving heart, just like mommy used to do.
Can’t get fairer than that.
All these orders to think my directions, to think forward and up with my head, to think of my torso lengthening and widening, all this before I touch the sacrificial lamb, oy vey, it’s bloody mental.
I had this same sort of trauma in grade school. I badly wanted to do things but the powers that be wouldn’t let me.