A pointer finger stretches out,
Indicating a familiar face,
A curious sound,
A tempting object.
And he gets the response he desires –
And a tiny little pincer grip begins to pick up small toys,
Consistently with left hand.
Again, getting the result he is looking for –
He moves up and down over low mattresses and cushion obstacle courses,
Arm becoming more familiar at reaching forward to take weight,
At the head first decent.
This is the result of so much more than just hand use,
It’s the relationship between everything down to his pelvis,
And the positions he is in to allow his ability.
If we can understand why we are putting him in a position,
And what we are hoping to achieve there –
This is when he will access his capabilities.
In sitting on a stool,
We are doing it for his head control,
An awareness of gravity,
And access to his arms –
But it wont necessarily help him sit.
And if the level of demand is too great,
It becomes a threat to his system in terms of achieving the goal.
And achieving a function -The picking up a toy for example,
Is actually the result, even so the by-product –
Only made possible because of,
The way the rest of the body is positioned,
It is not simply,
A hand picking up a dropped teddy –
It’s the head hanging,
Not thrusting to pull back,
It’s the folding or sagging forward at the pelvis,
Straddled a stable knee,
Anchored by us at the pelvis.
Not planking his back straight, stiffly.
It’s feet still in contact with the floor,
Underneath him as reference to the ground.
And of utmost importance – it’s him wanting to pick up the teddy,
And so comes success,
And with success,
And further recognition of the value of movement,
In his expanding repertoire.
Not to mention pure satisfaction!
And I am privy to another great moment,
And continue to be amazed by what I really didn’t know –
And let go,
Feeling the shift in my own understanding of how and why we move,
And opening it up to a new way of thinking –
The wisdom that is Feldenkrais therapy.
And just how possible life could be for my boy,
Glints in the filtered light dappling through the window,
And just how far he has come in his short sixteen months,
Warms across my cheek.
I close my eyes,
Breathe it into my lungs,
A tonic to last me another day.