I was taking a pre-recorded Feldenkrais class a few weeks ago, and was astonished when the teacher started to relate a story of her encounter with Pilates. She explained how she had always thought quite negatively about the practice of Pilates, finding it overly 'corrective' or 'didactic', focused on achieving an external outcome rather than an internal learning. However, as she explained, after observing the skill and knowledge of a Pilates teacher working with one of her clients, she gained a new level of appreciation for the practice. The Feldenkrais teacher then went on to say how she happened, later that week, to be listening to an old recording of Moshe Feldenkrais teaching one of his famous classes, and that around half way through the session he made the comment that 'if you cannot do this then it's because your spine is not correct'. This language was so alien to her own understanding of Feldenkrais that she was taken aback. And yet, these were the words of the founder of the Feldenkrais technique, Moshe himself. The conclusion that she came to was that many of the movement pioneers of the twentieth century, whilst so ahead of their time in many ways, could not help still being of their time.

It's a tricky story to relate, but it's one that strikes so many chords for me. We are lucky in the Pilates industry because we benefit from being part of a practice that is widely known and recommended by many physiotherapists and doctors. Pilates is offered as standard in any gym class schedule and corporate wellness packages. But with that recognition comes a fair amount of judgement or misinformation. The wide variety of teacher training courses is another problem that we face, as the term 'Pilates teacher' could be ascribed to varying levels of skill and knowledge.

Whilst Pilates is my key 'tool' in my teaching practice, it is certainly not the only practice I adhere to. My movement 'training' includes a combination of Vinyasa yoga, Scaravelli Informed Yoga, Meditation, Feldenkrais, Authentic Movement, Bartenieff Fundamentals, running, cycling, swimming and 'just moving'. Not only do I practice different techniques, but I also select the different articulations of each technique by following the specific practices of different teachers. When I attend a class with a specific teacher it is not because I want to just do that particular form of practice (yoga, pilates, Feldenkrais) but because I'm interested in that teacher's iteration of that practice which is filtered through their own curiosities, knowledge and the rigour that they bring to their own practice and teaching. I observe this in my own classes. I realise that my work suits particular types of people, that clients are sometimes drawn to my classes, not because I'm 'the best', but because my work suits their body, because something about my approach works for them.

With all of the different kinds of practices that support my teaching, I am constantly astounded, and slightly heartbroken, by the negative comments I hear about Pilates, not just from less informed members of the public, but also from colleagues within the Yoga, Feldenkrais and the somatic movement world. 'Pilates is very limited' is an often repeated idea, 'too sagittal', 'too much focused on the core', 'too prescriptive', 'too much flexion'. And of course Pilates can indeed suffer from being all of these things. But so, then, can any other practice. I recall teaching a Chi Quong teacher who was in a constantly tucked under position (with her tailbone pointing between her legs), which was putting undue strain on her neck. Her understanding of 'correct posture' might have been appropriate for a Chi Quong practice, but over time, this had become her default position which was actually harmful.

Pilates itself has many similar 'blind spots' which, if over-done, can cause harm rather than reduce it. In fact the sign of a good teacher, in any discipline, is one who is constantly looking for their own blind spots, either by expanding their toolbox of practices, or by approaching clients, classes and their own practice with some degree of uncertainty, an openness to the fact that we might not know.

I've observed another recent trend, for teachers to look for certainty through science. This is a really spikey topic, so I know I must tread carefully. The thinking goes that movement techniques, so as to be taken seriously, need to be looked at through a scientific lens. Now, I am all for engaging with scientific research in order to further our understanding of what we do and this has in fact led to making our practice safer. However, the mistake is to conclude that only a scientific approach can provide any absolute knowledge. I hasten to differ.

Here comes a bit of a conceptual shift, so bear with me. If you look at how the basis of scientific knowledge has in itself been brought into question, you quickly realise that science, like any other practice, cannot stand outside itself, the discipline (including all its social and cultural baggage) cannot be detached from the object of its research. This is not a particularly controversial idea either. The feminist theorist Karen Barad explains:

'We do not uncover preexisting facts about independently existing things as they exist frozen in time like little statues positioned in the world. Rather, we learn about phenomena - about specific material configurations of the worlds becoming... the point is not merely that knowledge practices have material consequences but that practices of knowing are specific material engagements that participate in (re)configuring the world.' (Karen Barad, Meeting the Universe Halfway)

All of which means... we do not have access to any fundamental truth, because we cannot stand outside ourselves in time and space and peer in. Each technique is simply a system that has come out of the particular 'entanglements' (to use Barad's word) through which it was conceived, taught and passed on at a particular time and place. Like Moshe Feldenkrais telling a class that their spine was 'not correct' and Joseph Pilates pushing down on his clients' backs to help them stretch. Our practices and approaches cannot be pre-social or pre-cultural. But that doesn't mean that we should all give up now and go home, or throw the Pilates repertoire out with the proverbial bath water. Ultimately the only real tool we have, as Barad notes, is our ability to be reflexive to be 'attentive to, and responsive/ responsible to' the rich, dynamic and innately intelligent system that is the human being.

There is no right/ correct way. There's only practice.