GREAT MOVEMENTS

By Elsa GINDLER (1926)

About this work:

Elsa Gindler left behind only one published work, in which she outlines her concept of “gymnastics,” presented at the major exhibition in Düsseldorf titled “Health, Social Work, and Physical Exercise” in 1926. In this lecture (reproduced here in a somewhat abridged form), she explains what she means by “concentration” and “alertness,” how alertness and responsiveness make it possible to intensify the exertion of one’s strength while conserving it when flexibility and quick reactions alternate rhythmically, and how relaxation and tension (as opposed to “tension”) are related to gravity.

When Elsa Gindler once addressed nearly 3,000 participants at a convention of the “German Gymnastics Federation” (of which she had been a member of the executive committee since its founding in 1925/1926), she spoke out because, according to her students’ account, there was so much fear and hostility in the room that after the lecture, her supporters escorted her out “for safety reasons” via a service staircase in the building where the conference was being held. In her presentations, Elsa Gindler had indeed challenged everything that, in terms of “more beautiful,” “correct,” and “controlled” movements, constituted the goal of gymnastics schools at the time. We need to visualize this situation, because for us, many of Elsa Gindler’s ideas are almost self-evident, even though her fundamental concern is still often misunderstood today.

I find it difficult to talk about gymnastics, because the goal of my work is not to teach specific movements, but to achieve concentration.

Only through concentration can the body function flawlessly, in harmony with mental and psychological life. 

That is why, from the very first class, we encourage our students to engage in and deepen their practice with full awareness.

We all increasingly feel that we cannot keep up with the pace of our lives and that the balance between physical, psychological, and intellectual forces is disrupted. In most cases, this disruption originates in school.

And if school and puberty haven’t quite succeeded in doing so yet, then family relationships, work, and perhaps a difficult fate present us with insurmountable challenges.

We stop shaping our lives through reflection and feeling; we are caught up in a whirlwind and let all the uncertainties pile up around us and within us, to the point that they always end up taking over at the most inopportune moment.

Inadequacy dominates us both in the big picture and in the details.

Yet there are always those same little misfortunes of infinite importance. In the morning, we are not well-rested. So we get up too late to enjoy the part of the day that would allow us to attend to our personal care with the serenity and tenderness that would fill us with well-being and strength. It’s no coincidence that we say, “I still have to wash up, I still have to brush my teeth (drink coffee, go to the theater, go out, etc.),” rather than: ‘I’m brushing my teeth,’ etc. And that already reveals the essence of the matter: we do everything just to get it over with and move on to the next task. When a room is cleaned just to get it over with, it doesn’t look the same as when it’s tidied up to be clean. And what’s extraordinary is that it doesn’t take any longer, even though the result is much better.

And in this way, we enter a more human state of mind. Indeed, every time a task is carried out thoughtfully and we feel satisfied with ourselves, we experience consciousness. By this I mean consciousness—which always occupies a central place, reacts to the environment, and is capable of thinking and feeling. I deliberately refrain from defining this consciousness as a soul, a psyche, a mind, a feeling, a subconscious, an individuality, or even a corporeal soul. For me, the little word “I” encompasses all of these at once, and I always advise my students to substitute their own word—the one they use to address themselves—in place of my word, so that they don’t get themselves tied up in knots psychologically and spend hours philosophizing about what it exactly means, because in the meantime, there’s always something useful we can be doing.

It’s true that it may seem a bit presumptuous to want to address the problem I just mentioned through gymnastics.

That’s certainly true. And so we’re always a bit embarrassed when people refer to this work as “gymnastics.” Most people are used to thinking of “gymnastics” as certain exercises, and the first question we’re asked always concerns “typical exercises.” To that, we can only reply that it’s not the gymnastics that does the trick, but the mind that is present and engaged in the activity.

Generally, people reason this way: if I’ve learned relaxation exercises, I’m relaxed; if I know how to do breathing exercises, I know how to breathe; if I know how to do momentum exercises, I work with momentum; if I’ve learned to correct bow-legged or knock-kneed legs, they’re straight. This is not the case, and we always see failure where this primitive conception seeks to use things for its own ends.

For it is clear that the mere fact of learning and knowing how to do the exercises

On the contrary, we are able to increasingly reduce the time spent on a task while significantly improving the quality of the result, and in this way we enter a more human state of mind. Indeed, every time a task is carried out thoughtfully and we are satisfied with ourselves, we experience a sense of awareness. By this I mean consciousness—which always occupies a central place, reacts to the environment, and is capable of thinking and feeling. I deliberately refrain from defining this consciousness as a soul, a psyche, a mind, a feeling, a subconscious, an individuality, or even a corporeal soul. For me, the little word “I” encompasses all of these at once, and I always advise my students to substitute their own word—the one they use to address themselves—in place of my word, so that they don’t get themselves all tangled up in their psyche and spend hours philosophizing about what exactly it means, because in the meantime, there’s always something useful we can be doing.

It’s true that it may seem a bit presumptuous to want to address the problem I just mentioned through gymnastics.

That’s certainly true. And so we’re always a bit embarrassed when people refer to this work as “gymnastics.” Most people are used to thinking of “gymnastics” as certain specific exercises, and the first question we’re asked always concerns “typical exercises.” To that, we can only reply that it’s not the gymnastics itself that matters, but the mind that is present and engaged in the activity.

Generally, people reason as follows: if I’ve learned relaxation exercises, I’m relaxed; if I know how to do breathing exercises, I know how to breathe; if I know how to do momentum exercises, I work with momentum; if I’ve learned to correct bow-legged or knock-kneed legs, they’re straight. This is not the case, and we always see failure where this primitive conception seeks to make use of things.

For it is clear that the mere fact of learning and knowing how to do the exercises.

Indeed, it is clear that the mere fact of learning and knowing how to do the gymnastic exercises can never lead to a unified awareness of movement. How, then, can this be achieved?

Precisely by mobilizing our entire mind and emotions to make our body, through gymnastic exercises, an instrument in the service of our life. When our students practice, we ensure that they do not simply learn an exercise, but that they strive to enhance their intelligence through it. When we breathe, we do not learn specific exercises, but we use them to control our lungs—to restrict or release them as needed. When we become aware that our shoulder blade is not positioned in a way that facilitates our work, we do not reposition it from the outside. That would be pointless, because as soon as the person is busy with something else, they forget about the shoulder girdle. There are certainly always people who manage to contract it in the “right” place, but that’s also obvious.

We now generally proceed as follows: at the beginning of a class, we ask our students what they’d like to work on. The result is, at first, daunting. Either no one says anything, or we hear: “You have to help me lose my belly,” and so on. That’s when the first disaster strikes, when I reply that I have absolutely no intention of helping anyone else lose their belly—but that everyone has to do it themselves.

Suppose a class has decided to work on the shoulder girdle. We then examine the shoulder girdle in detail, both in terms of its structure and the stresses it undergoes. Next, using the skeleton as a guide, we determine how it can best fulfill its function; then we compare ourselves to that model and discover what we need to do on our own.

In most cases—and especially at the beginning—we are blindfolded, and each person then tries individually to determine the source of their poor posture and what is preventing the shoulder girdle from adopting the correct posture. And so, suddenly, each student trains in their own way—that is, the entire class works differently—and yet there is a level of concentration and silence that many lecture halls would envy.

The instructor can then quickly see where the problem lies. For example, he notices that some students always skillfully choose the heaviest and most difficult exercises, and it is his duty to make it clear that one should always try to achieve a goal using the simplest and easiest forms. In any case, each class works with completely different exercises and devises its own.

In this way, we achieve very significant results. The student begins to realize that they can influence their own body. They suddenly feel that they can work their entire body exactly as they just did with the shoulder girdle. Their self-confidence is thereby strengthened. The program no longer baffles them; instead, they feel encouraged. Yet this cannot be achieved through exercises alone, no matter how well-designed they may be.

This is our method of work. Let us now turn to the means. Our means are: breathing, relaxation, and tension. These elements, if used wisely, will be as beautiful as all the beautiful things in the world.

As long as they remain mere words, they cause unhappiness; but as soon as they are filled with meaning, they become great mediators of life.

One of the most delicate and difficult areas of our work is breathing.

We can observe in young children and animals that any movement can quicken and deepen breathing. In adults, however, the physical, mental, and spiritual forces are no longer guided by the unity of consciousness, which severs the link between breathing and movement. This is the situation in which almost all of us find ourselves. Whether we want to speak, make a small movement, think, or even when at rest, we hinder our breathing. So think of the freedom with which an animal’s neck extends from the body, and compare it to your own neck when you have a little time and peace. You will notice that the neck, starting from the center of the body—that is, roughly at the level of the diaphragm—is pulled strongly inward. If you observe this phenomenon for a while, you’ll realize that this contraction is entirely voluntary; when you release the tension, you suddenly feel that your neck can move much more freely. The constriction of the airflow, which occurs in the throat of almost everyone, suddenly ceases, and you feel free. If you can consciously bring about this relaxation at any time, you’ll find that all movements not only do not hinder your breathing but can even deepen it more and more. You don’t get tired; on the contrary, you feel invigorated by the work. And let’s apply this to life: we should become more and more alert and productive as more is demanded of us.

In reality, this is how we have always imagined life to be, and we can always observe that people who achieve high levels of performance are in better shape than those who do nothing. And when we observe successful people, we often see that they possess this wonderful flexibility of response—this constant alternation between activity and passivity. Their breathing is inherently flexible as a function.

It’s never easy to achieve. In any case, our students find, time and again and without much enthusiasm, that simply thinking about a single action is enough to immediately feel the harmful effects on their bodies and their performance.

We’re so used to it that it’s hard to let go.

In difficult situations—such as during an argument between spouses or the sudden appearance of a superior—we observe that this abrupt inhalation and the tensing of the chest and abdominal regions take on alarming proportions. Breathing stops or becomes labored, and the situation—which likely requires maximum flexibility from us—is irretrievably lost. We are familiar with this state as embarrassment, anxiety, bad temper, mental and emotional confusion, as well as in the form of clumsy movements of the arms and legs, or even physical tremors.

Once we become aware of how to dispel this state of tension—that is, to let go—we are suddenly able to rise to the occasion. Breathing flows more freely, mental confusion subsides, and we can once again make use of this ability.

Clearly, one cannot start with large movements if these already cause even the slightest disruption to coordination. One must have observed them to understand everything one does with one’s breathing while brushing one’s teeth, putting on socks, or even… This is how we try, with our students, to first awaken an understanding of these processes. 

We have them perform any movement, trying to carry it out without disrupting their breathing. This requires so much work that we could probably keep at it indefinitely. But the classroom is not the setting for this exercise. 

Here, the solution to a breathing blockage comes relatively easily and quickly. We must, however, draw attention to the seemingly insignificant moments when a breathing blockage sets in during daily life, and combat it right then and there. This struggle simply involves being mindful of it. The more we think about it, the more we get used to checking—especially during small events (which, incidentally, leave us much more time for this than major ones)—whether the problem lies in our breathing. The more we do this, the easier and more natural the remedy becomes. We will soon begin to feel its beneficial effects: as soon as we relax our breathing, we immediately notice that the stiffness leaves us. This is what we must learn and experience: how, the very moment we make our breathing supple, we rediscover within ourselves the sensation of life. But even more than that, this respiratory tension is closely linked to poor bodily tension. We will never be able to achieve bodily relaxation if our breathing is not freed from all tension.

We must recognize and feel this connection between breathing and bodily movement; we must bring about this harmonization. In this way, we become aware that even the demands of life are not so insurmountable and can be met by conserving our energy, rather than with the maximum effort to which we are accustomed and the usual turmoil.

(A passage has been omitted here that discussed in greater detail the four phases of breathing—inhalation, resting phase, exhalation, resting phase—and their connection to an individual’s performance capabilities.)

In the course of this discussion, we have used the word “tension” so frequently that we must now examine it more closely. I have attempted to show the extent to which tension is linked to respiratory disorders, and these, in turn, to psychological disturbances.

Solutions therefore lie in our ability to create a mental image of relaxation and to put it into practice through appropriate exercises.

For us, relaxation is a state of maximum responsiveness, inner calm, and a readiness to respond appropriately to every stimulus. When we read that Arabs have the ability, after hours of walking in the desert, to lie motionless in the sand for 10 minutes and to regenerate to such an extent during those 10 minutes—Gindler regenerates to the point of being able to walk for hours more—this serves as an example of relaxation for us. When we hear that great businessmen often remain completely still for a moment, while all their senses are turned inward, and that they suddenly—as if waking up—make decisions that are undoubtedly the only ones possible, it is clear that during that moment of stillness, relaxation has occurred. It is this relaxation that we seek. It is most easily achieved through the perception of gravity.

Our limbs must learn to grasp and feel gravity; indeed, every cell within us must rediscover the ability to follow it. Who among us lies in bed to sleep, perfectly relaxed, in accordance with gravity, like a sleeping animal? When we try to feel the pull of gravity throughout our entire body, including our head, we enter a state where nature takes over: as we adopt the proper physical posture, the appropriate breathing settles in—not arbitrary breathing accompanied by large movements of the ribcage, but calm breathing.

The breath comes and goes imperceptibly, and sleep sets in.

Then, while standing, we must feel how we transfer our weight to the earth, pound by pound, and how our feet thus become lighter and lighter. This is where the paradox comes in: the heavier we become, the lighter and calmer we feel.

When sitting, we should remain upright; as long as we slouch, we disrupt our entire internal functioning. When we sit up straight, we can feel how much calmer and more satisfying our breathing becomes. In fact, we often observe that people who are tired or bored sit up straight to pull themselves together and revitalize themselves a bit. When we are seated, we should always be able to move freely at the joints, with the abdomen and spine taut.

When we lean forward, we stretch the upper parts of the lungs. It is this same stretch that we find so beneficial when we swim or, especially, when we walk into the wind.

Above all, we must remember this: any correction coming from the outside is of little value. Everything must be so well thought out, so deeply felt, and so closely linked to the myriad events of life that it is carried out instinctively at every moment. It is not what we can perform on command that constitutes a true skill, but what happens immediately, without thought, in the face of a sudden circumstance.

But to reach that point, we must also pay attention to all sorts of things that go beyond just gymnastics. We must not only avoid incorrect movements but also poor food combinations, as these lead to unpleasant internal disturbances which, in turn, cause tensions that undermine the work we are doing on ourselves.

Healthy and sensible skin care is part of this—that is, not only the actions we take on our skin, 

but also an understanding of the skin, such as treating the skin with oil, for example. Likewise, everyone should strive to gain a deep understanding of the specific nature of their constitution according to Gindler, in order to learn, to a large extent, how to care for themselves.

Now, a few words about tension: it seems somewhat frowned upon in our work, but I must say that this is only an illusion! In reality, only those who truly know how to relax can also experience tension. By this we mean the beautiful alternation of energies that respond to each stimulus and that can increase or decrease depending on the effort. We mean, above all, that strong sensation of power, the ease of an effort—in short, an heightened sense of pleasure. Tension, as we understand it, is the ability to overcome the greatest resistance through accelerated breathing. For us, tension is the absolute opposite of stiffness. We are happy to exert ourselves, but not to the point of exhaustion.

Editor’s note: 1 Here, Elsa Gindjer uses the term “psychic” to refer to restlessness, the inability to wait.