For me a stranger is someone I know and who knows me. The only difference between a stranger and a friend is that the stranger and I have just met. Said in another way, no stranger is strange. Everyone is familiar. How different can we really be?
A woman whom I had never met, from Istanbul, wrote to me the other day asking me about my work. We proceeded to engage in a truthful interchange, full of trust, in a way that only strangers who know they are friends can do. She had written to me, among other things, about feeling as if she were living in a box, though it did not appear that way to others. Here was my response.
Boxes come in all sizes and shapes. And wrappings. You might say that, ultimately, Alexander work is about living without a box. Without a superimposed container. That doesn’t mean being able to do whatever you want, and spilling out all over the place. It means you don’t need an external structure to hold you in place because you have an internal structure that does that. And it means you don’t need to place some beautiful or glamorous, or impressive box between you and other people. No appearances. No protection. No defensiveness. No walls. Just an authentic you.
Human boxes are constructed from patterns of tension. Sometimes I refer to this self made human box as the “tension body.” The work I do unties, unwraps, and opens the box, undoes the tension body, bit by bit, until it falls away and only your real body is left which, without your tension body, feels friendlier, comfortable, and powerful. So, it’s not about being inside the box or outside the box. It’s about dropping the box entirely. How can there be an inside or an outside if there is no box? But you cannot drop the box until you can receive support from your internal structure. What I do is help a person come into contact with that structure, which is both physical and more than physical.