A few weeks ago I was asked for some advice by a friend of mine who was experiencing some foot pain. I had a look at their legs, where the weight landed on their feet and how they shifted their weight as they stepped from one leg to the other. It seemed clear from my brief analysis that they were rolling onto the outside of their feet too much and we looked at correcting this by focusing on rolling the ankle forwards over the big toe/ second toes. There was instant relief. No pain in the foot. But when we discussed integrating this generally into his posture, a common objection came up: "It doesn't feel natural. I've stood like this my whole life, I'm not just going to change".

"But it doesn't feel natural" is a fairly common refrain that I hear from many clients. And, it does have some merit, so I don't want to completely dismiss it. But I do want to challenge it a little too.

In the first instance, what do we really mean by the term 'natural'? In a post-naturalist world, the idea that there is anything so simple as an originary, natural movement has surely been debunked. Our movement has been thoroughly socialised, encoded even, by a combination of pyscho-social and cultural factors. Genetic pre-dispositions are only one part of the puzzle, as is evident in the growing interest in epigenetics. As long ago as the 1930's the French sociologist Marcel Mauss observed a change in the way French women walked, which, he noted, was the result of the influence of young women watching more Hollywood movies. In a seminal essay Techniques du Corps Mauss notes:

'The positions of the arms and hands while walking form a social idiosyncracy, they are not simply a product of some purely individual, almost completely psychical arrangements and mechanisms.' (Mauss, 1935)

When clients say that something doesn't feel 'natural', what they mean is that it doesn't feel familiar to them on a neuro-muscular level. It's like putting on someone else's jacket, wearing clothes that have not been shaped by our movement. There's an instant sense of un-familiarity. Over-time, though, that jacket adjusts to us and us to it. We become habituated to the feel of the cut. It becomes ours. Similarly, when confronted with a new pattern, we recognise it's lack of familiarity. We feel like we've stepped into someone else's shoes.

I can't help but relate this to another anecdote. Before the pandemic I used to take regular classes at Triyoga. As you may know, this studio has a 'no shoe' policy. As you walk in you are asked to leave your shoes in the shoe rack at the door. As one of the busiest studios in London, this sometimes came with its drawbacks. Several signs reminded clients to take a moment to check that they were actually leaving with the correct pair of shoes. After one Feldenkrais class, I went to find my shoes. It was busy and I remember feeling quite anxious that perhaps my shoes had been picked up by someone else. Finally, I found my pair, but somehow they looked and felt very different. I just couldn't work out whether this was my mind playing tricks on me, or the result of some re-programming that had somehow made my shoes 'different' to me.

In somatic practices (like Feldenkrais) this un-familiarity is key to the process of learning. In the performance practice known as the 'Six Viewpoints' the dance artist Mary Overlie speaks about the 'News of a Difference'. Recognising the unfamiliar is an active process of learning and integration. As we consciously work with a new pattern, it becomes familiar as the neuro-muscular patterning gets toned up until it becomes unconsciously available. Let's go further then and say that what doesn't feel natural is simply a new patterning that is, as yet, not habitual.

Having said this, I want to back up to my original anecdote and my conscious highlighting of the word 'correcting'. Pilates is a 'corrective' technique. We offer correction to our clients through verbal and hands-on cues. Hidden behind this approach is the paradigm that there is an ideal 'form' which we are all trying to achieve. So here comes my caveat...

... there is no such ideal. What we deem today to be 'good technique' may be shown to be unsafe at some point in the future. This has happened many times, even within the 16 years of my teaching career.

As Pilates teachers we're constantly walking the line between intervening and empathising. It's a conversation, not a science. When an adjustment is so substantial that it de-stabilises a client, then a more gradual approach is needed. Just thinking about a movement might be enough first. New patterns need to be negotiated, not overlayed. That's why what we do is a practice, not just a set of exercises.

Photo by Apostolos Vamvouras