Personal Stories in Sensing ...

Hannes Zahner, Luzern, Switzerland
Du kennst den Weg! Ein Satz, den mir Ruth Matter oft mitgab, wenn ich wieder einmal mit offenen Fragen aus der Stunde wegging. Sie ging spärlich um und sorgfältig mit ihren Worten. Genau so wie mit ihren Angeboten. Archaisch fast: einen Fuss in die Höhe ziehen. Die Hand auf dem Oberschenkel lasten, sie anheben und wieder sinken lassen. Und: Wieder - holen. Schlichtheit war Gebot. Auch im Fachvokabular: Last, Zug und Schwerkraft. Abklingenlassen von Affekt. Und Bereitwerden. Bereitwerden, einen Finger anzuheben. Nichts anderes, als eine Stunde lang bereit werden, einen Finger zwei Millimeter anzuheben und wieder sinken zu lassen. Und das Erlebnis, dass sich in diesen zwei Millimetern eine ganze Welt bewegte.
Beharrlich und konsequent ihr Vermitteln. Ab und zu ein Hinweis auf Pestalozzi, wenn ich die Gesichtsmaske aus Gips auf ihrem Klavier betrachtete. Die Totenmaske von Pestalozzi, ein Erbstück von Heinrich Jacoby.
Du kennst den Weg! Der Weg, das war für Ruth Matter «d’Arbet», und sie mochte nicht lange Erklärungen darüber abgeben. «D’Arbet vom Heinrich Jacoby». Diesen Satz – eine Liebeserklärung – verkörperte sie mit jedem Teil ihres Wesens. In der Würde ihrer Person, in ihrem wachen und aufrichtigen Interesse, in ihrer warmen Präsenz, mit denen sie an meinem Arbeiten teilnahm; mit der ihr eigenen beruhigenden Geduld, das noch nicht Stimmende stehen zu lassen als das im Moment Stimmende. Um gelegentlich beim Abschied mit einem längeren Händedruck als sonst und einem hellen gütigen Lächeln anzuzeigen, dass sich heute in der Stunde wohl etwas verändert habe.
Manchmal bat sie mich, Beifahrer zu sein, wenn sie samstags nach Kölliken fuhr. Allein wollte sie – weit über 80-jährig – nicht mehr Auto fahren. Am Steuer wich ihre sonst ruhige Gemächlichkeit und der Tacho stieg öfters über die offiziell erlaubte Höhe. Mit kindlicher Freude nahm sie eine Abkürzung, wenn ihr die Kolonne zu lang erschien und ihre Augen glänzten jung, wenn sie von ihrem ersten Mercedes-Cabriolet erzählte, dem einen von den damals zwei einzigen in der Schweiz. Es war mir später vergönnt, ihr Fahrer zu sein – leider nicht mehr im offenen Mercedes – auf Ausflügen zu einigen Lieblingsdestinationen von Heinrich Jacoby. Wohl etwas romantisch in der Erinnerung, aber spürbar eine schöne Zeit für Ruth Matter, wie sie im offenen Cabriolet die schmale kurvige Seestrasse am Vierwaldstättersee entlang fuhr, in einem gemütlichen Seerestaurant Heinrich Jacoby, wie er über sich oder über «d’Arbet» erzählte, lauschte, so wie ich jetzt ihr.

And in English....

Hannes Zahner, Sensory Awareness Leader and long time student of Ruth Matter writes about his impressions of her. Ruth Matter studied with Heinrich Jacoby who next to Elsa Gindler was Charlotte Selver's most influential teacher.

Hannes writes: “I send you a little story about my time with Ruth Matter in Switzerland. I did work for many many years with her.. She did not work with groups and so it was a very intensive experience to work alone with her. May be you have to correct a bit the language-errors. Mit ganz herzlichen Grüssen, Hannes.”

Editor’s note: since I don’t know German I took a few liberties to adjust some of the language for clarity, attempting not to diminish too much its heart felt charm

"You know the way”. This is what Ruth Matter often said to me when I once again left my individual session with her with open questions. She handled words sparely and carefully. Just like her suggestions and directions, nearly primitive: “lift a foot. Feel how the hand weighs on the thigh, lift her and let her sink again. And repeat – no: do it once more, new”.

Simple was the law . This was also reflected in her vocabulary: “Weight, pull, gravitation. “Let affect fade away.”,“   and get ready” . “Get ready to lift a finger.” Often in an experiment for one hour nothing, for one hour, nothing but getting ready to lift a finger two millimeters and let it sink again. And then the  experience, that in these two millimeters the whole world moved.

Her conveying of the work was persistent and seemed to flow in a logical progression  From time to time there was, when I looked at the death mask she had on her piano, a hint to the Swiss educator Pestalozzi*, This death mask of Pestalozzi was a heirloom from Heinrich Jacoby. “You know the way!” The way for Ruth Matter was ‘the Work’ and she did not like to give long explanations on it. ‘The Work of Heinrich Jacoby’ was a declaration of love for her. She embodied this phrase with every part of her being; in the dignity of her person, in her alert and authentic interest. It was in her warm presence, which she showed during  my time studying with her, it was in the soothing patience to leave something not yet in tune as the best at hand for now. Then from time to time she would give me a handshake that took a little longer than usual, indicating that something had changed in this session.

Sometimes she asked me to be passenger in her car when she drove on Saturdays to Kölliken. Well into in her eighties she didn’t want to drive alone any more. At the steering wheel her normal leisureliness left her and the speedometer climbed above the allowed speed. With childlike pleasure she took shortcuts when there were too many cars; and her eyes had a young glow, when she talked about her first Mercedes cabriolet, at a time there where only two of them in the country. Later I had the privilege to be her driver – sad to be not any more in the open Mercedes – on excursions to the favorite spot of Heinrich Jacoby. In memory this was a  little nostalgic, but you could feel it was a good time for Ruth Matter as she remembered driving to a cozy seaside restaurant with Heinrich Jacoby to listen as he talked about ‘the Work’, listening, as now I did to her.

*(Editor’s note on Pestalozzi from wikopedia.com :”His method is to proceed from the easier to the more difficult. To begin with observation, to pass from observation to consciousness, from consciousness to speech.”)

Pat Meyer-Peterson, Charlottesville, North Carolina
When I first heard about Sensory Awareness, I was a Zen student in New York City. Through the Zen practice, I had begun studying Shiatsu after work. My work was as an Administrative Assistant at a small foreign study organization. Friends told me about Charlotte Selver’s workshops on Monhegan, and as my vacation I went for a one-week session. We worked a lot with awareness of breathing. The work was so simple and so profound. I felt more quiet and open.
Back to work the next Monday, I sat down at my typewriter, and noticed that my breathing had shut down. I could feel the diaphragm holding still. I was alone in the office, so I stood up, went into the next room and lay down on the floor to follow this through (or: to explore this sensation?). What I realized was that I hated my job. What really drew me was the practice of Shiatsu, my hobby.
I soon gave notice and went full-time into my new career.

Pamela Strong, San Francisco, California
In the early 70s I had my first opportunity to study with Charlotte and Charles. The whole experience with them was one of coming home to my self. At that time I was a student of dance, and I remember that during a break – this was at the New York School for Social Research in New York, and there was a veranda outside the classroom – I started to dance and had the experience that “it” was dancing me. It was effortless and I felt myself being carried like a sail in the wind.
Later, I had a dream in which I was having a similar experience and Charlotte was there nodding and smiling, “The less you do, the more you dance,” she repeated several times.