Alexander Technique in East Yorkshire


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Early morning frost & the Alexander Technique

Early morning after a frost. The bird feeders were refreshed with new seed. I was watching the daily arrival of the pigeons, doves, blackbirds and sparrows as they cautiously began to rest in the trees surrounding my garden deciding if it was safe enough to come closer. The sun was warming everything and the neighbours shed roof had a gentle stream of rising steam. The closest tree was magical. The frost was melting. The droplets of water from the melt steadily got bigger and as they did they twinkled and changed into many colours, reds, greens, blues before they dropped off. I’ve tried to capture that with a camera but the magic just isn’t there. I marvel at how my eyes can see natures version of twinkling Christmas lights. I feel blessed that I can be present enough to witness those seemingly ordinary but oh so profound moments. I am thankful that the Alexander Technique opens up my awareness to be there when it happens.


Jane Clappison

Certified Alexander Technique Teacher (Pocklington, East Yorkshire)

01759 307282

The fighter jet and the Red Kite

Late summer day. Cool breeze. Bluest of blue sky. I’m sat on the garden bench, warmed by the sun, reading a fabulous book: Die Wise by Stephen Jenkinson. The local Air Force are doing practice drills above my head. They always get me excited. The power of those jets, the sound resonating through my whole system. I imagine the burn from the jets, like those I have seen on space ships taking off. I can’t help thinking about how much they are polluting the air, but I am more impressed by their power. They come in pairs, they turn, somewhere over my head and then they disappear back in the direction they came from. All the while I am reading I keep hoping I will see them, but I can’t. Then suddenly, a flash of light under a wing, so far away, but unmistakable, and I’ve found one. I follow the plane. I’m leaning right back over the bench so I can see it. I’m sure my face is horizontal. I’m loving the stretch up the front of my body. The garden birds are going nuts. Flying everywhere in the garden. Then, I see the most magnificent bird. It seems like it is half way between the plane and me. It makes me gasp. It is such a spiritually profound moment. I can’t really put my finger on why. However, I totally forgot about the plane. I just gazed in awe at the ease with which the Red Kite circled above my head. Effortless. In command of all it can see. In command of the environment it is master of and at one with. I don’t think it cares about the fighter planes. I don’t. I watch the bird for as long as it is within eyesight. I feel blessed I witnessed it’s flight.


You know the Alexander Technique is so like this. It helps me be that easy Red Kite instead of putting out all the energy of a fighter jet. You might want to have a lesson and try it out for yourself?


Jane Clappison

Certified Alexander Technique Teacher

01759 307282

Autumn Raspberries

It’s an early autumn morning. I love the slight, almost imperceptible, cool air on my face that happens each time I move. The sky is bright blue and I am warmed by the sun, and happy.

I’m in a corner of our garden, behind our greenhouse, where the raspberries love to grow. The canes, which must be 8-10 foot high, are bent over with the weight of the fruit.

I can tell that the neighbourhood sounds are different. The summer has transforming rapidly into autumn and the light, the sounds, the birds, the trees, the dying, drying plants all speak to me and remind me that nature is getting ready for its next phase.

Black dog sittingThe dog is staring up at me with her beautiful brown eyes, longingly, waiting for her portion of our late harvest of raspberries to go her way. Sometimes she gets bored of waiting and that’s when I realise my dog has lips. She delicately picks the lower, dog height raspberries off the canes,  deftly avoiding any prickles.

I love that my hands are sensitive enough to pick the very ripe fruit without squashing it. Just the right amount of pull. Too much and my hands become even more red and wet. Too little and they won’t leave their birth place. I can sense that the Alexander Technique has helped me be this way. I am grateful. Breakfast is imminent.


Jane Clappison

Certified Alexander Technique Teacher

01759 307282

Hell for leather or all the time in the world? The choice may be yours?

The instructions said the cream would take 30 seconds to absorb. The way I was doing it, you would think I was determined to get that time down. If I had entered a fire lighting competition, I am sure I would have won.

Then I remembered, I had time. I could take all the time I wanted. I had nowhere to be, in any rush. I was probably going to be doing this every day for much if not all of my life. Perhaps there was another way of getting the medication into my system other than creating excess friction between my fingers and thigh?

I stopped what I was doing. I left my foot on the stool. I noticed the foot that I was standing on, was gripping the floor. I let go of that grip. The foot on the stool was poised and I let the weight of my leg release to the chair, my hip area dropped. My arms that had been in “get the cream in quick” mode transformed softly into rest and my shoulders dropped, shoulder blades sliding down my back. My neck released and chin dropped.

Ahh! Much more delicious a state to be in.

I remembered I knew many, many massage techniques and I could try a few to see what I enjoyed the most. Turned out just gently stroking, using my full hand, softly,  in big circles was what was needed. Simple, meditative.

I took in the room, the sounds, the sensation of the massage, the ease I could do it with and I enjoyed the thought that this pace felt right. I felt right. No rushing, no stressing, no force. I discovered a delightful space that I rejoice in, every day.

What if every time you applied any cream you lovingly take time to apply it with all the time in the world? Perhaps you will find a pace that turns out to be calm, gentle and mindful?

It’s very easy and learning the Alexander Technique will help you chose how you do it. I would love to share my thoughts with you? Try a lesson?


Jane Clappison

Alexander Technique Teacher

01759 307282

Contact me

Home cooked food & agenda-less days.

An earthenware vintage bowl



My place of refuge, for many years, was snuggled up on my grandparent’s  high backed two seater sofa between nanny and either the dog, Tiny (who wasn’t that tiny) or my granddad Joe (when he was home from sea).

The sofa would be pulled in front of the glowing fire on these occasions. We would be waiting for bread dough to do it’s magic. It’s receptacle, the wide mouthed red clay earthenware pot, would be sat on the hearth. The inner yellow glaze hidden by a damp white tea towel. I still have that vintage pot and I have made bread with it many times.

Nanny always gently patted the yeasty white mound, as if that sealed a secret agreement to rise, just before covering it in the towel.  The memory is extremely clear in my mind, as are her gnarled hands which she believed resulted from stretching material over wings of planes during the first world war.

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Reduce eye strain with the Alexander Technique? Jane’s May 2020 Alexander Technique Project

Reduce eye strain:
Jane’s May 2020 AT Project

My May 2020 project  is on the use of screens in relation to how I use my eyes.

Here’s what I have been exploring:

  • intensely looking at the screen,
  • allowing the subject matter to come to me,
  • noticing what’s behind the person or the thing I am looking at and what is behind me. Being aware of the space between my back and the back of what I am looking at,
  • looking at what’s around the screen, what’s behind it, what’s to the side of it. Changing my focus from what is on the screen to what is around it,
  • flipping from one to the other.

The reason I have been doing all of that is to find out what is more comfortable to sustain and what works best for me. I think it is a little bit of a combination of everything excluding intensely staring.

So, you might want to explore these ways of looking (at an ipad, screen, phone etc) with me right now? Join in with me via the youtube video below? (at 1 min 50 secs)

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Jane’s April 2020 Alexander Technique Project: using screens

Two people looking at screen with poor postureThe coronavirus has meant that much of the world is operating far more online and that includes many Alexander technique teachers. For some of them, online work has been their main source of income. For some, like me, the virus has meant my face to face work has had to stop and I have needed to do some training to grow my online work.  Mio Morales and Jennifer Roig-Francoli generously provided this training.

In the process of exploring online work, I have been practicing giving online lessons with a fellow AT teacher. This month’s  project emerged out of that.

When I use “screens” I tend to, very slowly, inexorably, get drawn into the screen. I hinge at the hips and move my throat towards the screen, lift my chin, and look down my nose. My shoulders and shoulder blades move backwards and together! It is an old habit. I have shared a very old photo of my Dad and I peering at a computer screen screen of his newly purchased BBC machine (very old computer from the 1980’s) to show you how bad it can get. So I know it’s always there if I don’t engage some other strategy. I also get visual and vestibular migraine (strange gorgeous zig zags before my eyes and feeling dizzy) if I use a screen too much.

This habit is not the only one! There are so many ways to lose sight of “good use” when looking at a screen. My version might be like yours, but it may be very different. My colleague noticed they have a similar tendency but the emphasis for them is on the upper chest moving towards the screen and tightening in the lower back.

The project began by reminding myself

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On doing nothing in East Yorkshire, and during the pandemic!

Easington, a tiny coastal village. A few houses and caravans. It wasn’t a seaside village like we know of today. It was, however, where I spent my summers when I was very young.

I sat, protected on three sides by chocolate coloured, East Yorkshire coastal clay enjoying it’s cool windbreak quality. I now know this coast is eroding faster than anywhere in Europe and the North sea I was looking at, covers many lost villages. I didn’t know or care about any of that. All I knew was my bum was cool, the skylarks were serenading me in the fields behind, and I was hidden from my family and friends at the campsite, and I felt safe. I felt more than safe, I just was. No school, no timetable, no agenda, no pull, no expectations. I had little experience of school at that point anyhow and those other words meant nothing to me. It was blissful.

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