While doing some Feldenkrais with someone yesterday, I discovered an interesting quirk he had. I can’t recall what it is was now – something simple like his arms moving in radically different ways. And I was delighted, interested and curious about this quirk. It made him unique. Another practice might encourage my seeing this particularity as an error, something to be corrected or eliminated, smothered over. The culture, for example, would steer us all toward an ideal. But it is fantastic to be delighted by the differences between us. To enjoy them. How a stooped and aged body can be just as express and admirable as a model. This practice helps me find every person a piece of work, every person, the beauty of the world.
And it’s not just Feldenkrais that has taught me to see this way. About four years ago, I watched a great many episodes of Doctor Who, all in a row. I found myself moved by the Doctor’s love for humans, and not just when they’re being nice and doing sensible things. He loved humans when they were being exceptionally human. When someone made a foolish choice, he would shake his head, cluck his tongue affectionately and say, “Humans.” (This was the 10th Doctor, for those of you who know about these things.)
And the stupider people were, the more he loved them. It seemed to me that he loved humans not in spite of their imperfections but because of them. The Imperfect Beauty of the World.
The Hamlet Project 