No table, no problem

Recently I traveled far into the countryside to a friend’s house to give her a hands-on Feldenkrais session after a serious fall and subsequent hip surgery.

After I’d arrived and we’d had a chance to catch up on family and work, teaching and writing, and what’s happening with friends and colleagues, it was time to get to work. I fetched her Feldenkrais table from the corner and opened it only to discover, much to her dismay and my surprise, that it was broken.

Though fixing it was outside my domain of competence, the table clearly seemed easily repairable. But that wouldn’t be of any immediate help at the moment. So what to do?

As you’ll no doubt find unsurprising if you’re a regular reader of this blog, I immediately suggested to my friend, “How about we do a lesson with you sitting?”

Looking at me uncertainly, she asked, “You think so?”

“Absolutely!” I responded. “Look, you have the perfect setup here.”

Sliding a stool from the kitchen in front of a chair from the dining room, I asked her to sit in the chair, cross her forearms, place them on the back of the chair, and rest her head on the upper arm.

This isn’t exactly the starting position I proposed in my recent “Unseating Orthodoxy” post. Instead of having my student sit backward in the chair, I used the stool because the padded back would likely be more comfortable and, as luck would have it, because it was as close to the perfect height as anyone could wish. It became, unexpectedly, a most serviceable situation—and a poignant reminder that when we can improvise with what’s at hand, our work needn’t be limited to standard equipment.

I couldn’t help but reflect that I’m about to teach this lesson structure to colleagues in Santa Cruz in No Table Needed. Trying to remember who I learned it from, I got momentarily frustrated that my memory was so much better before chemo. I think I first experienced it from my mentor, Edna Rosenas, during my training or soon after, but, honestly, I don’t think she taught me the ins and outs of delivering the lesson. I wish I could remember so I can credit whoever continued the lineage of our method and mission by passing on this aspect of our craft.

But perhaps remembering the person matters less than understanding the process’ underlying structural coherence.

Way back when I first learned FI, I thought there was one lying-on-the-back lesson, one lying-on-the-side lesson, one prone lesson, one kneeling-at-the-table lesson, and so on. In other words, I thought each position came with a singular protocol or lesson plan. Along those lines, I also used to think there was only one lesson you could give in this improvised, “massage chair” sort of position.

Of course, that was an illusion. A lesson should never be reduced to a fixed script or recipe.

What we call a lesson is really a family of possibilities — all the ingredients, tactics, techniques, sequences, entrances, exits, emphases, and timing choices — and a collection of constellations, or systemic themes, that hold what happens together in a meaningful, interlocking manner. A lesson is not merely a recitation or re-creation; the form may be familiar, but the actual lesson is always alive, emerging in the spoken and, more importantly, unspoken dialogue between the teacher and the student.

This point extends beyond the Feldenkrais Method to any somatic approach. It’s too easy to fall into the trap of believing transformation and learning require “perfect” conditions: the right table, a quiet room, the professional studio. But the nervous system doesn’t live in a laboratory. If we can only find ease when the environment is curated, we haven’t actually found ease; we’ve found a comfortable arrangement. The real work is learning to use whatever we find in our immediate environment — be it a cardboard tube for mailing a poster or a kitchen stool — to construct a context for learning.

This is the heart of the FI tutorial curriculum for No Table Needed. We start by unpacking the classic, count-on-able lesson composition — the kind you can rely on and return to again and again — in the improvised sitting-on-a-chair backward position. You experience the lesson’s logic in Awareness Through Movement classes, in interactive exercises with your classmates, and, thanks to the small group size, with Larry doing each technique with you. You learn each crucial technique alongside (and simultaneously with) the essential self-use that underlies it, and you have ample opportunity to practice, receive individual coaching, and refine the necessary skills. You become familiar with the way the lesson unfolds and why it unfolds that way. You also learn how to frame it from the start so the learning emerges naturally in a meaningful, memorable way.

(It is important to me that this is clear: I don’t have one collection of FI compositions I teach in this kind of advanced training and another, completely different repertoire of hands-on lessons I rely on in my practice. The lessons I teach are the lessons I count on. They are the themes I develop, adapt, and vary. They are the building blocks for fitting a lesson to the student in front of you.)

After you’ve learned this lesson structure, forward and backward, inside and out, we begin to explore the other possibilities this position — whether sitting backward on a chair or resting the forearms and head on the back of a stool — affords. Just as we use a table as a platform for change, we can use this unusual supported sitting configuration. It offers the rare advantage of giving the teacher access to the student’s front and back, which can be pivotal in many lesson structures.

The room, the furniture, and available equipment — these aspects can become part of the work, even an unanticipated benefit, rather than obstacles. That is the real lesson, perhaps: we don’t have to abandon the table, but we shouldn’t let our loyalty to it unseat us.

Once you see that, the chair is no longer a compromise. It becomes a tool. And in the right hands, a tool for constructive change.

Here’s the information about No Table Needed, the post-grad Feldenkrais program on the composition and craft of this seated FI lesson, that I will teach in two upcoming small-group tutorials in Santa Cruz, California.

Dates & Times:

• Friday through Tuesday, 4 to 8 December 2026
  1:00 PM – 6:45 PM daily
• Friday through Tuesday, 5 to 9 March 2027
  1:00 PM – 6:45 PM daily

Application:

Introduce yourself and outline your background, training, and experience, along with the reason(s) you want to participate, via the Mind in Motion Online Contact Form. Please mention any previous courses you have taken with Larry.

For more details, please visit the course page.

Registration & Tuition:

$847 Early registration
$947 Full tuition

• For the December module, the early registration deadline is at noon Pacific time this coming Friday, 30 October 2026.
  
  Only three (3) spaces remain available.
  
• For the March module, the early registration deadline is at noon Pacific time on Friday, 15 January 2027. Your $350 deposit will hold your place until that date.
  
  Only two (2) spaces are still available.

Enrollment is first-come, first-served.

Please note that we prefer to receive tuition payments and deposits via Zelle. To make sure the payment is directed correctly, please use the tag: mindinmotion-Feldenkrais. (Please contact us regarding other means of payment.)

Onsite Housing:

For those wishing to stay at La Casita Buena Vista, the course venue in Santa Cruz’s Seabright neighborhood, only one room remains for the December session. Contact us for more information by filling out and submitting this form.

All rooms for the March session are now reserved.