The reluctant Ninja.

    Here I am, hard at work transcribing, editing and compiling eight years of notes from three different notebooks, several different legal pads, and a multitude of sticky notes gathered over countless hours of martial arts training, classes and seminars. This daunting project is in anticipation of  testing for my next belt level. Some day. This next level is a comprehensive test which includes everything I have learned (or supposed to have learned) since the first day I entered the dojo and began training. Reluctantly, of course. You may recall that I was going to take a few classes, learn a few things, and then quit. I thought it was a form of recreation.

    Then I discovered how serious these people were about their training. I mean, they had notebooks, for Heaven's sake! "What were those for?" I wondered. Then I found out. I was given a few sheets of paper which listed the techniques I had to learn to test for my first level, my yellow belt. I giggled. I wasn't ever going to test, I was probably going to quit soon, so why did I need that list? In spite of myself, I put the papers in a thin binder so as not to look out of place, or to appear disrespectful.

    Then I took my first seminar. My teacher brought his Sensei out from LA to help us train. My teacher talked me into attending, telling me that it was a lot of fun and Sensei was just a great big teddy bear. So, I did. The first day the big teddy bear screamed and yelled. About everything. All day. Just when I thought he had surely run out of things to yell about, he bellowed and lectured us for not taking notes. All of the upper belts whipped out their notebooks and began frantically writing. I sighed to myself, pulled out a piece of paper, picked up a pen, and stared down at the sheet of paper. My mind was as blank and empty as the paper. I had no idea what I was supposed to take notes on. I tried to sneak a peek at the paper of the brown belt sitting next to me, but as far as I was concerned, he may have been writing in Japanese. Then I realized he was.

    I noticed Sensei scowling and looking in my direction. Nervously, I began to write. After all, I didn't want to be the only one staring off into space, especially after that lecture, so I wrote some notes. Bread, eggs, milk. I figured no one would notice that I started my grocery list because my handwriting is so bad no one could possibly read it. I hopefully looked up from my list. Everyone was still writing. I sighed again and started planning my menu for the following week. Since I was already working on my grocery list it was a natural segue. Finally, the note taking period was over and we started practicing our techniques again. Still, every now and then, one of the guys would step away, pick up his notebook, and jot down a few notes. Not wanting to be out done, I walked over to my notebook and wrote down a few other items that I needed from the grocery store.

    That was eight years ago. I now have several different well organized notebooks including my original manual, my current manual, my instructor's manual, and my testing manual to name just a few. It's funny how things change. The last time Sensei came into town for a seminar, I was frantically writing notes when one of the newer students hunkered down next to me. She wanted to know what I was writing. She told me she didn't have a clue what to write. She chatted a bit more until I finally told her to write her grocery list. She stared at me for a moment and said,  "You're kidding!" I looked across the room and noticed Sensei scowling at me. I smiled back at him, turned to my fellow student and replied, "You've got to start somewhere!"

Be healthy!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP

Valentine's Day....hearts, flowers and toilets.

    It's funny to see how people respond to Valentine's Day. Love it or hate it, it shows up each year. And it's here to stay. Yesterday one of my single friends asked me if my husband had planned anything special for me this year. Why, yes, as a matter of fact, he did.

    I had the day off, so I was going to go to ballet class in the morning, and after I came home we were going shopping for a new bathroom. For some reason my friend thought this was hilarious and couldn't stop laughing. Finally she said, "How romantic! Shopping for a new bathroom on Valentine's Day!"

    I thought about it for a few minutes and realized that nothing says I love you like looking at toilets. It's less fattening than chocolate. And lasts longer than flowers. Happy Valentine's Day!

Be healthy!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP

Reflections and confessions of a techno-moron.

      Don't you love to laugh? I certainly do. I especially love to laugh at myself, and at some of my patterns of reluctance in trying new things. Just as I had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the world of martial arts, it was the same story with technology.  

     The truth is that just a year ago all I could do on a computer was check my email. I didn't even know what a blog was, let alone imagine myself having one. I had no idea what Facebook was or why anyone would ever want to be on it. I spent two years traveling a lot, and in the airports I noticed how many people had their computers with them. I wondered why anyone would possibly want or need their computer. And almost everyone was actually using them. I would glance curiously at the people busily tapping away at their keyboards. Funny, I noticed many of them watching me as I worked my magic with my knitting needles. They were probably wondering how I managed to get them through security. Just as I wondered how all those computers got through.

     My cell phone was a mystery to me. It's a hand me down, so it is not exactly state of the art technology. But it was still above my level of understanding. I finally learned how to text two years ago because my youngest sister made me. I discovered that my phone had a "memory" and I could program frequently used numbers into an address book. Who knew? I found that nifty little tool while I was babysitting my niece and nephew. I took them to their baseball game, and entertained myself during lulls in the game by toying with my phone. After all, I ran out of conversation with the young Moms pretty quickly, and I noticed they all kept looking at their phones for some reason. Not wanting to look out of place (and cursing myself for not bringing my knitting), I kept glancing at my phone, too. Then I noticed they kept playing with the keys. Not wanting to be out done, I started playing with mine. Viola! I now had an address book full of names and numbers, even though it took a few days to learn how to retrieve them.

    A year ago my marketing advisor set up a blog for me. I didn't even know what a blog was, but I knew I didn't want one. Notice how I made that call before I even discovered what a blog was. Fortunately my youngest sister explained it to me. She sure is smart. Then I found out my friend also set up a Facebook account for me. No, no....don't do that. I didn't even know what that meant, but I certainly didn't want any part of it. This time all of my sisters tried to explain it to me. They sure are smart. I still didn't get it, but I tried to look intelligent as I listened to them, even though I didn't understand a word they said. Good thing I have so many sisters. I figured with enough repetition I would eventually get it. In the meantime, my inbox quickly filled up with friend requests. Uh-oh, now what do I do? I mean, if someone sends me an invitation, the polite thing to do is to reply to it, isn't it? The problem is, I didn't know how.

    The point is, no matter how many times people tried to explain this world of technology to me, I just didn't get it until I finally started playing with it on my own, with a sense of interest and curiosity. I discovered a lot more on my own than I ever could with someone else instructing me every step of the way. Did I make mistakes? Of course I did. But I sure did learn a lot. And once I let go of my belief system that I couldn't possibly understand technology, my mind opened up to new learning experiences. Huh, sounds a lot like the Feldenkrais Method(R) and neuroplasticity, doesn't it?

    So, here I am, sitting at my computer with my cell phone next to me. I'm shooting texts back and forth between sentences. Every now and again I give myself a break and see what my Facebook friends are up to, even though I have a few files to download and I could be working on an important document.  And I laugh at myself as I wonder what's next around the corner. Perhaps one of those new fangled phones that actually take pictures, videos and can access my email. Maybe I'll even learn how to copy and paste, a phrase I used to think was a cute reference to my kindergarten days. Oh, no, that was cut and paste, wasn't it?


Be healthy, and stay curious!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP

Surrounded by brilliance....and neuroplasticity.

    Don't you just love it when the gifts keep coming? Just as I am still marveling at my Sensei's brilliance two weeks ago in martial arts,  I got another blast of brilliance from my ballet mistress.

    Dancers are visual as well as kinestetic in our learning experiences. We use our eyes as well as our bodies to learn choreography in our technique classes. We look in the mirror to check our placement as well as our movement patterns. However, sometimes we depend on the use of our eyes and the mirrors too much. For example, if we know we can look in the mirror and follow the other dancers, there is less pressure to learn the combinations. We can become complacent, and fall into the habit of watching each other instead of paying attention to the choreography.

    Last week our teacher gave us a specific constraint. She had us turn away from the mirror and dance facing the wall. The results were disastrous! Half of us couldn't remember the combination, and the other half were running into each other in a bizarre rendition of ballerina bumper cars. It was extremely confusing, but pretty funny. And incredibly revealing. It seems that some of us depend on our vision (and each other) a little too much.

    The dancers who had embraced the choreography as an authentic, internal expression of themselves regained their composure relatively quickly. The others never recovered. Some of them actually stopped and simply stood there, adding to the confusion. It became obvious which dancers were trying to do what they thought they should do, rather than feeling what they could do.

     As dancers we often talk about flexibility. Sometimes we become consumed with the idea of having a flexible body. Perhaps instead of being preoccupied with having a flexible body, we can instead focus on developing a flexible mind. If we did that, who knows to what heights we can climb?

    When our teacher had us turn away from the mirror she challenged our nervous systems to quickly adapt to the change. And we all discovered a little bit more about ourselves. Sometimes all we have to do to is turn away from the mirror to see ourselves more clearly. And sometimes, out of confusion comes clarity, flexibility, strength and grace. Not always....but it is an intriguing concept, isn't it? And well worth exploring.

    Oh, and one last thought. Don't you think I am incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such brilliant teachers? Or maybe their brilliance has been there all along, but now I have the awareness and flexibilty to appreciate it. Hmmm....it's just another idea to consider.

Be healthy, and flexible!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP

Gymnastics with numbers....and thanking a teacher.

    I love math. It's so simple and so logical. I also have passion for movement.  Math is movement. It's gymnastics with numbers. Isn't that a fun way to look at it?

    I didn't always feel this way. When I was young, I didn't do very well in math. I used to feel incredibly stupid, clumsy and frustrated. Everyone else seemed to understand and catch on so easily, where I always struggled. It did not help that I was told I had no aptitude for math, or even worse, that I just didn't apply myself or work hard enough. Ouch.

    I remember being in Algebra class when I was in high school. I was trying to follow along with the new material my teacher was presenting, but I was lost. Utterly, completely and hopelessly lost. Finally, I raised my hand and said, "I'm confused." The straight A student sitting next to me rolled her eyes and said in a bored, sarcastic voice, "Well, that's not very hard to do!" I was stunned. The entire class looked at me as my face burned with the knowledge that yes, I am stupid. I have no aptitude for math. I don't apply myself. I don't work hard enough. Give up.

       My teacher slowly turned away from the blackboard. He said nothing....he just looked at my classmate for a few moments. Her face turned red and she started to squirm. I don't think she intended for the entire class to hear her. My teacher looked at me and asked, "Where are you confused?" He then patiently explained the equations to me. Suddenly other hands shot up in the air. Hmmm....it appears that I wasn't the only one who was confused. But I was the only one who had the courage to admit it.

    Many years later, I decided to go back to school and earn my Master's Degree in physical therapy. But then I found out I would have to take several math courses including Statistics, College Algebra, and Trigonometry. The old internal monologue and self talk came back loud and clear. I'm not smart enough. I have no aptitude for math. I don't apply myself. I don't work hard enough. Give up. The truth is, I almost quit before I even started.

    But then something incredible happened. Somewhere deep in my memory, I saw a young teacher turn away from the chalkboard, give my classmate a blank look, and take the time to explain the material that I didn't understand. That memory helped change my belief system that I had no aptitude for math. I knew I could at least try. There is no doubt that I would work hard and apply myself. I could start with lower level classes, join a study group, and even hire a tutor if necessary.

    You know what? I never did join a study group or hire a tutor. After the first two weeks of high anxiety and introductory Algebra, I made an amazing discovery. It wasn't difficult....it was interesting and kind of fun. I was good at it. And I loved it! I was at the top of every class I took, all the way up to Calculus.

   Isn't it fascinating that such a small gesture could change my belief system and self image? How could I go from being completely inept in a subject to a high achiever without even struggling? Because, in just an instant, my teacher turned what was a hostile, high stress environment into one that was safe, supportive and conducive to learning, without judgment. The intelligence of my nervous system and my own inner wisdom was able to take over and do the rest. This teacher gave me a way to find my confidence, dignity and self respect.

    Honestly, is it ever too late to thank a teacher? I don't think so, do you?

Be healthy!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP

Habits, constraints, and neuroplasticity....let the learning begin!

    In my martial arts class, we often practice something called "randori". One student stands in the center of the room while the other students form a circle around them and take turns randomly attacking the person in the middle. It's kind of like the Ninja version of monkey in the middle. And it scares me to death. It is my least favorite training activity, but my incomparable stubborness won't let me opt out. And besides, the guys would make fun of me if I refused to play with them.

    Last week, after we completed our randori, just as I heaved a sigh of relief, Sensei said, "We're going again." He looked at me and said, "And you are not allowed to do the same techniques. I want you to find new ways to react to each attack." My response to that constraint was not very mature or Ninja-like. I threw a hissy fit.  Apparently my little temper tantrum didn't phase him. Either he is immune to them or I need to work on my hissy fit skills. Anyway, he wouldn't budge. Sheesh, I thought I was stubborn!

    Before we began, he had me stop, breathe and relax. Not an easy task when you are surrounded by men waiting to attack you. Against my better judgment, I listened to him. Then I took my place in the middle of the circle and let the games begin. The attacks started coming. And something very interesting happened. I felt new movement patterns come forth without even trying. My reactions were more thoughtful, meticulous and less effort. I discovered that I had a lot more techniques under my belt (so to speak) than I knew I had. I was calmer, my breathing was easier, my chest felt softer, my movements were more fluid. I felt myself responding in a visceral, organic way. 

    By giving me that one small constraint,  my Sensei gave me the opportunity to interrupt my habits,  explore new movement patterns, and discover new sensory patterns.  He did this in an environment that was safe, supportive and non-judgmental. What ever I did, it was not right or wrong, good or bad, just opportunities to learn. Hmmm....this sounds familiar. Why does this sound like  Feldenkrais? Because it is. The Feldenkrais Method(R) gives us the opportunity to learn new patterns of moving, sensing, thinking and feeling in an environment that is safe, supportive and nonjudgmental. Interesting, isn't it?

     What Sensei did that day was absolutely brilliant! But let's keep that to ourselves, shall we? We won't tell him I said that. After all, if I encourage him, who knows what devious new methods he will use to help me learn and grow. Hmmm....on second thought, maybe I will tell him!

Be healthy!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP

If a tree falls in the forest.....

      Several weeks ago a powerful storm swept through Rocky Mountain National Park. Two weeks later, we went hiking in the area, and we came across a devastating scene of absolute chaos and destruction. Hundreds of huge pine trees littered the ground, crisscrossing over each other, their broken limbs strewn everywhere. Most of the trees were literally ripped from the ground by their roots. Some trees that may have survived the storm that swept through the forest were split in two by the crashing force of the other trees that succumbed to the gale force wind.

   What once was a beautiful forest of tall, majestic trees was now an eerie field of debris and destruction. Along with the broken branches, uprooted trees, exposed roots and huge craters in the ground, I saw several deadly nature made wooden missiles scattered everywhere. Their tips had points so perfectly sharpened it appeared as though they had been carefully whittled by a master wood carver. I cringed to think of the damage one of these weapons might have caused as it came flying through the air during the melee of the storm.
 
    I have heard that pine trees have shallow roots. Simply because a tree appears to be big and strong, tall and mighty, it does not mean that it can withstand the power of a storm if it's roots are shallow. The truth is, we are a lot like those trees. It doesn't matter how big, strong and tall we are; if we don't have the flexibility to bend under the onslaught of life's storms, we will break. If our roots are shallow, we will be taken out. If we don't have the resources to help support our neighbor when they come crashing down, or are unable to get out of their way, they will take us down with them.

    The good news is that we have the capacity to change through the plasticity of our nervous system. Flexible strength is far more healthy and functional than rigid strength. It is important to learn how to be flexible so we can spring back when the storms hit. It's important to develop strong roots so we cannot be uprooted. It's important to get out of the way and deflect the blow if somebody next to us is crashing down. Maneuvering through the forest of life is not about being big, tall, and strong. It is about having the resilience, spirit, resources and ability to spring back, recover, grow and flourish.

    So,if a tree does fall in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound? I'm pretty certain that the symphony of destruction that roared through the forest the day that the trees fell was unparalleled to anything I have heard in my lifetime. But, I guess we'll never know.

Be healthy, strong and flexible!
Cheryl Ilov, PT, GCFP