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Dear Blog Readers,
A new Contributor has joined our ranks. Wholebody focuser Steven Jabokovic writes about a rarely discussed element of Wholebody Focusing—wordless, movement-centric sessions that make us new without narratives, words or cathartic thoughts. What he describes is how pure movement can bring him what he desires most—a connection to self. Join us in welcoming his insights to our blog.
Diana Scalera – Blog Administrator
For me, the path to presence is winding, but also an unwinding. It begins with a twitch in a toe or a finger. The twitches are followed by a slight shudder or a shiver down my back. At first, the spasms are intermittent; lightly flitting every now and again.
By now, I know what’s coming and wait. I feel carpet fibers between my toes. Through two sit bones resting upon the seat of my chair, I become aware of the weight of my body. My eyes are closed, but I sense sunlight coming in through the window.
I speak of my bodily experience over Skype, and my voice instantly reaches Toronto, Canada. Kevin’s warm scratchy response encourages me. “Yes…good,” he says. I agree with a nod that he cannot see with his eyes – we only use audio, but I am sure he ‘sees’ it.
The twitches become more intense and violent. My shoulders jerk back; my head turns from side to side as far as my neck allows; my wrists shake with enough force to toss my fingers across the room if only they could; my toes grab for the carpet fibers. This goes on for several minutes or maybe only thirty seconds; I’ve never counted.
The spasms slow down. A few final twitches make my body pop before it becomes quiet. Sometimes traveling this path makes me tired, but I always end up feeling loose and open. I am neutral and quiet; a quiet that I long for, but have trouble finding.
I mostly walk through life tense and worried. I can feel rigidity in my limbs and worry in my face as I move through the world and interact with other beings. The process of shaking during focusing is more than imaginary. Residue of the previous week is thrown off me as I shake.
My tension is me, but it is also not me. During sessions, I find separation. The casting off of tension makes it feel as though it was given to me and not of me. From where? And why have I become such as a hospitable host? Perhaps from society, but more likely from parents who live full of fear and doubt. I may never know for sure, but after I’ve shaken, I am no longer society or my parents. I am more me than them.
As time passes from one Whole Body Focusing session to the next, tension begins to wrap its electric arms around me again; zapping me rigid at times. But now, I know of a path. The more I practice Whole Body Focusing the shorter the path has become to the place I long for. A place where there is quiet. A place where there is me.