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As an Alexander Technique teacher, I am usually the last resort for the hurting musician. The difficulties of playing major literature can cause pain or injury, which often exists a long time before someone tries Alexander Technique. If a performer is in physical trouble, one of three situations has usually occurred before I am consulted: surgery has been recommended and seriously considered; the performer has resigned herself to the reality that hard passages will always cause strain and pain; if the pain is severe enough, the performer is considering abandoning a career she loves to be free of the struggle. Yet, when I offer musicians the possibility of effortless, accurate performance that would end their limitations on the instrument, they sometimes choose not to commit to the necessary changes.
During lessons, I present physical solutions to technical problems, which is what the Alexander Technique is about--but I also address psychological resistance to problem solving and trouble shooting.
Being on the verge of ending his career can cause a musician to resist removing the limitations of pain and injury. Tired and exhausted, the hurting musician has forgotten he once loved music and just wants to be free of the tyranny of daily practice and the struggle for perfection. Subconsciously, the hurting musician wants to find out that I cannot help--then quitting will be justified, and he is free. From the first lesson, I have to be aware of this pull between wanting to quit and desiring to continue. I want to help the student rediscover his original reason for playing.
I believe that coming to an Alexander Technique lesson signals that the student is still open to physical and psychological solutions to pain and to a solution to the drudgery of repetitive practice. Deep down, the hurting musician knows there is still the possibility of joyous and pain-free playing.
Many classical musicians are trained to be in a constant state of criticism. Thus, their playing is guaranteed to never be good enough. This constant state of self-criticism hurts emotionally. As a guitarist, I pushed myself, hunkered down and practiced until I played well, but I never stopped criticizing myself. I did not realize this ingrained habit was interfering with what had brought me great joy. Because of this way of practicing, I was burned out at age 23. After spending nearly eight hours a day practicing at the Royal College of Music, I ended up collapsing in despair as I left the college.
A few years later, I discovered a book by Luigi Bonpensiem, New Pathways to Piano Technique. This book gave me exactly what I wanted--a way to play effortlessly and fearlessly. It taught me that if I knew where I was going on the guitar, and if I trusted my hands and withdrew all effort to hit the mark, I would not miss. This is exactly what happened. Every time I slipped back into trying to play perfectly, I remembered to release and trust my hands, and they hit the mark. I discovered at age 25 what a prodigy naturally does at age 5.
As a concert guitarist, I was a very good player, even as a struggler, but now I had found the holy grail of effortless accuracy. I was no longer afraid of mistakes because I had faith in the accuracy of my body. What did I do? I quit for good.