Imagery for the Pilates Instructor
As a dancer, a former gymnast and a lifelong athlete, I have learned the importance of a healthy body. Suffering only minor injuries from the activities I have pursued--a few twisted ankles, an over-extended knee, the regular aches and pains of exhausted muscles--I consider myself extremely lucky. From competitive gymnastics to Division I lacrosse, from field hockey to modern dance, from lifting weights to racquetball, I have instilled my body with strength and flexibility. It was only until the discovery of Pilates, however, that I realized I could take control of my body's fate through understanding. It is this precept--the salvation of the body not at the expense of the mind, but precisely because of it--that appeals most to me. It is a thinking conditioning form, and I am a thinking human being.
When I was first introduced to Pilates as a sophomore in college, I did not fully comprehend its personal benefit. I admit, I was closed-minded. I did not sweat; my heart-rate did not increase. Now however, after three years of training and a year and a half of teaching, and simply the fact that I can literally see the difference in my core (not to mention feel it after a workout), I am converted. In my early training I viewed Pilates as an interesting new physical challenge; now I view it as the key to physical fitness and body awareness. I have not given up on my former training. Pilates has simply added to it the desire to understand my musculature more fully and an introduction to how relaxing the large muscle groups can bring freedom to the joints. Those muscle groups I have pounded and pounded through years of handsprings and running have begun the long process of giving way to their less-superficial friends. If I may still clench occasionally, now at least I am aware of the tension.
I particularly enjoy (probably because I am a dancer) the benefits reaped from Pilates's emphasis on the articulation of the spine and the use of the breath. In my own practice and in my teaching I most emphasize these two facets of the discipline. But we cannot forget that all-important, stubborn-fighting by-product, patience. Mastering Pilates takes time people! And getting comfortable teaching, speaking clearly, using imagery that works for you and your clients takes thought. Because, you see, Pilates ultimately is about efficiency. Use only what you need. Pilates does not claim, even in its purest form--and by that I mean what Joseph Pilates himself wrote in Return to Life--to be a quick-fix, and thus by its very nature Pilates steers clear of laziness. It truly equals the sum of its parts, and it is this philosophy added to all that I have learned from my own physical training that I strive to bring to my teaching.
Daily, I witness the positive effects of Pilates, the awareness that it brings to the musculature and the breath. Driving to Maryland from Virginia after a five-hour rehearsal, my arm out the window pressing against the wind, I find myself unconsciously engaging my shoulder girdle to help support my forearm against the invisible force; how I cannot go to sleep until I place my hands on either sides of my ribs and exhale through pursed lips until I have expended every molecule of air. And it is this awareness, this active observation that I cannot get enough of. I think that may have been the most important aspect of my teacher training, those hours sitting quietly on the side of the studio watching the instructor interact with the clients. I not only observed, I listened. Listened to what the teacher said and how she said it. Language is so important in Pilates. In classical Pilates, the instructor is never to lay on the floor and demonstrate, but is to keep moving around the room cueing verbally, cueing, cueing, cueing at once actively observing and aware of her own language and how it is ultimately converted into movement. And though classical Pilates abides by a rigid sequence, this one aspect, verbal cues, is where the teacher's creativity enters. I could pull on my dance and gymnastics training and find new ways of describing an action that helped me understand a phrase or a skill visually. Different disciplines require for different diction, but in the end, each gets its intention across.
Dance: "Drop your chin."
Gymnastics: "Tuck your chin to your chest."
Pilates: "Imagine a grape under your chin and gently squeeze it without releasing the juice."
Dance: "Tuck your pelvis."
Gymnastics: "Hollow out your belly."
Pilates: "Imprint your low back on the mat."
I have picked up many useful images from my observations of other instructors. Some of my favorite include referring to the spine as a "string of pearls" and the ribcage as the "corset"; imagining springs under your hands as you pump your arms during the Hundred; and "wringing out" your obliques like a washcloth during Spine Twist. My only advice would be to use imagery sparingly. If it is not organic for you, chances are, it will not feel organic to your clients. In the end, it comes down to what feels natural. And what could feel more natural than reaching your legs out of your hips? Well, perhaps not. But it always brings a smile to my face when my clients practice what I preach and "Arf! Arf! Arf!" as they clap, clap, clap their heels during Seal. Refreshing, isn't it?