My Beautiful Fall
Last summer, after returning from two weeks of intensive Feldenkrais training, I had an experience that drove home the impact of this work in a completely unexpected way.
I was outside playing volleyball with my husband and daughter when the ball bounced toward the sidewalk. I ran after it, hopped down from a ledge, caught my foot on my wide pant leg on the way over—and fell.
This wasn’t a small stumble. I dropped off the edge of a raised green space onto concrete, ripped almost my entire pant leg, and landed mostly on my forearm.
But here’s the part that shocked me: I barely got hurt.There were a million ways that fall could have gone differently. Instead, I walked away with a small bandaid and a few scuffs. I couldn’t stop thinking “this should be so much worse”.
Rather than the shock of the fall or pain what stayed with me was something closer to awe. I remember standing there, looking at the one scratch on my forearm, thinking (like a true Feldy-nerd): Wow, that was a well organized fall!
Yes, I realize that’s not a phrase most people use about falling. But after two weeks of daily Feldenkrais lessons— where we spend seven hours a day getting “better organized”— it made perfect sense to me.
I was so fascinated by what had just happened. Why didn’t I get more hurt? Really—why? Could my Feldenkrais practice explain it? I went down the research rabbit hole, and it turns out that yes, falling well is a learnable skill. One that Feldenkrais improves in a few specific ways. First when you move in a way that involves more of your whole body— something we constantly practice in Feldenkrais— the impact of a fall spreads instead of landing all in one place. So instead of a fractured wrist, I got scuff marks all along my palms and arm. Feldenkrais also improves dynamic movement, or how you respond in unexpected moments. So there’s a good chance I reorganized myself mid-fall without even realizing it. Finally, Feldenkrais even reduces the instinct to brace—which tends to make injuries worse—and helps the body yield instead.
Which brings me back to the journey of this work. Sometimes the changes are subtle. Breathing feels easier. Turning your head is smoother. You’re a little less tired at the end of the day. And sometimes the change shows up when you trip off a ledge onto concrete and get up magically in one piece. I love knowing that, even though the work often feels so subtle and gentle, the awareness of my body is adding up in BIG ways. It’s empowering to feel like I’m getting better at being in my body, and more importantly, moving well is a deeply practical skill. Had I broken or sprained something, that would have cost me time, money, and energy. Instead I get to go back to the important things— like throwing around a ball with my family (just NOT in palazzo pants).
