Thursday, December 19, 2013

Alexander Technique, meditation, vision therapy, and computer middleware

Today was another insightful Alexander Technique lesson with Mark. I will try to develop some of the insights in this post --- I don't really have a better place to put it.

Technical introduction. When web programmers write software for a sophisticated website, they would often think about it in three layers: the front end, the middle layer, and the back end. The front end includes developing whatever the user will see in the browser, the back end involves things like storing user's information in the database, and middleware is everything in between. Computer programmers like to separate software into different parts because then it is easier to make sense of the whole design. The problems with computer software are almost the same as the problems with human beings: there are too many moving parts, and everything is interconnected. You touch one thing, but everything gets affected. Thus, many software developers favor a design with many small, manageable, independent components that are loosely coupled with each other, as opposed to one big, monolithic chunk of code. I am really not sure, how to explain it in simple terms so that everyone could understand...

When people are designing a robust, scalable, reusable software architecture consisting of many independent, loosely coupled pieces, they would try to make it flexible, to add "hooks" to different layers, at different levels, so that future pieces of software integrated into this architecture could be included in many different ways, allowing, so to say, for many ways to fit the puzzle, depending on the particular future, yet unpredictable circumstances.

For example, if you have a web application, you may want to protect it from "CSRF", a common attack used by hackers (search for "cross-site request forgery"). You may manually inspect each page of your website and, if appropriate, add some code to protect from CSRF. The problem is, your application may have a lot of pages, and even if you secure all of them, care should be taken each and every time you are adding a new page. This is painful and unreliable. However, if your design is flexible enough, you may be able to instead add a CSRF protection middleware. It will then intercept each and every request to your website and make sure that it is appropriately protected. In this way, you can keep working on your website without any worries, and the protection will be added "under the covers". Note that the web framework you are using has to be flexible enough to allow you to insert middleware in the middle of the processing.

Now, let's extend the analogy. For the vision, you can think of the eyes as the front end. Once the signal enters through the cornea, retina, optic nerve, etc., it goes through various middle layers, and then you can think of the visual cortex as the backend --- or, perhaps, the visual cortex is yet another middle layer, and the backend would involve parts of the brain forming our physical and emotional reaction to what is seen. There are many different layers or levels of processing for the inputs from all senses, including proprioception.

Remember, as I have just explained, that a well-designed software system is decoupled: it contains different parts that are not too interrelated. This is also desirable for different parts of a human beings, and many different techniques have been invented for this end. In dance, for example, it is desirable to be able to move one's leg without moving one's arm, or vice versa. In politics, we want to talk without changing our facial expression. When playing piano, we want to move different fingers independently. In vision therapy, we are making sure that the new, desirable visual habits function independently, not just in a certain context; this dependency on the context is an obstacle for any change-of-habit type of endeavor. Isolation or separation are words commonly used to describe this desirable property.

It turns out that "our" software or hardware, our brain and our body, is better than we think. This is not a new idea. You may have heard the idea of not reacting from your amygdala, but allowing the inputs to be processed in the neocortex. That is, we, humans, have developed a better version of "hardware", or "software", depending on how you look at it, than what certain lower animals had. (The popular analogy is "hardware", but I personally like to think of parts of the brain as "software", because, well, software is "softer" and thus easier to change.) I am going to make a similar yet different point.

I believe that the design of a human's perceptual system is a good design. That it includes some "hooks" that allow for certain middleware to be installed. That is, the nervous system has connections in the middle of the signal processing that allow us to potentially do certain things with a signal or an impulse in the middle. The essence of the Alexander Technique is, then, developing and installing such middleware. Repeated practice strengthens one's ability to interrupt the signals in the middle and to allow for custom things to be done. All three key principles of the Alexander Technique --- awareness, inhibition, direction --- can be viewed in this light, inhibition being the most obvious one. Similarly, the direction "I wish to free my neck" is done at the middle level, if it is to be done properly: by monitoring all passing signals and filtering out those that tighten my neck, I am able to free my neck "out of being, instead of out of doing".

This is why the Alexander Technique may be considered a "pre-technique": because this is a technique for and of installing middleware in our processing. (I don't really think it is about perception processing, it may be more about processing one's impulses towards doing something. I am really unclear on this distinction between perceiving something and doing something.)  This is why, according to Mark, a really advanced private class in Alexander Technique may still focus on foundations such as freeing one's neck, whereas this would not be the case for a really advanced music class: world-class musicians probably wouldn't be spending hours practicing the C major scale, exceptions notwithstanding.

Not all meditation practices or yoga practices involve this installation of middleware. For example, it is possible to mediate on loving kindness, spend some time cultivating this new feeling, and then allowing the effects to spill into other parts of one's life. This could lead to permanent changes in one's outlook on life, rewiring of the brain, etc.etc. However, there is no middleware mechanism involved. On the other hand,the practice of mindfulness, the Zen are about the installation of middleware so that on every impulse, something can be done in the middle, before it has been completed. I am struggling to make a distinction here between merely controlling or not acting on strong impulses and some other, deeper quality.

Not all processing in humans allows for an easy installation of such middleware. As I know from vision therapy, low-level vision processing functions best when its undisturbed by conscious thinking. That is, it is certainly possible to interfere with low-level visual processing, consciously and subconsciously, but the result is inferior, and is not recommended. Middle-level processing can be useful during therapy, to help break old visual habits and start forming new ones. However, in order to integrate new visual habits, the middleware layer has to be eventually disabled, so that information can flow freely, at the maximum available bandwidth.


Thursday, December 5, 2013

Lesson in Alexander Technique: inhibition and not allowing

This will be a highly technical post about the Alexander Technique, not about eyes. I've just had yet another great lesson with Mark and wanted to start sharing some insights. A significant background in Alexander Technique or something similar is recommended for reading it. Also note: Mark Josefsberg is my Alexander Technique teacher (his website).


I am sitting on a chair. Mark points out that my spine looks a little bit compressed. We are discussing what would be "the Alexander way" of dealing with it. Of course, "just sitting up straight" is out of question, since "just doing" is not what we are after, and trying to sit up straight has undesirable consequences. Stretching the arms up could work to decompress the spine, but again, this is not "the Alexander way". I tried just applying directions to free my neck, etc., and it made sitting there a little bit more comfortable, but I still stayed in this mini-slump.

So I contemplate the problem: I want to lengthen my spine without "just doing it", by following "the Alexander way". It suddenly occurs to me that I want to lengthen my spine a bit too much, and that an Alexander way would be to give up trying to lengthen my spine altogether. Mark agrees. He says: "You could choose to lengthen your spine, or you could make a choice to keep your spine compressed."

I: I make a choice to keep your spine compressed.
Mark: Fine, since you've just made that choice, you can stay where you are.

I keep sitting. The awareness that I am in a slight slump comes back, and feel that I don't really want to stay there, that I am just doing it in the spirit of contradiction, because I'd been trying to inhibit. Thus, I feel that this was not a "real" choice, to stay in the slump, and I don't want to be responsible for the consequences (perhaps slight, fleeting stiffness in the back, as a result). I explain this to Mark, and he suggests that I find a way to actually come out of the slight slump, but still following the principles, instead of abandoning my plan altogether.

Then I suddenly remember something that I read, that change happens in the movement. I immediately propose this theory to Mark: that it is much easier to lengthen my spine if I were moving around, doing something else, while applying the Alexander directions, instead of just sitting there in a stiff, fixed position, trying to free my neck and lengthen my spine. He agrees; so I stand up, do something, and sit back down; of course, it helps. However, Mark then asks me to go deeper and to find a way to lengthen my spine without actually standing up.

This really puzzled me. Even though I have surely done similar things before, here I was sitting there, trying to come out of the slump, but finding no good way other than "just doing it" or "standing up and moving around, while applying the directions". The Alexander directions themselves were too weak to completely take me out of the slump; I'd say, they only helped about 5%. However, I recalled this example that Mark always gives. He had a student in the past, a bright, intelligent guy, let's call him Jeff. So Jeff would be sitting in a slump and "just thinking the directions without doing them", and nothing would happen. According to Mark, Jeff misinterpreted the "just thinking part", as "just thinking" doesn't mean that nothing actually happens; just the opposite. In fact, Jeff didn't allow himself to come out of the slump, probably because he subconsciously misinterpreted the word "just" in "just thinking".

So I once again recalled this example and started looking for a way to apply the directions to actually come up. At that moment Mark reminded me that the so that part in the primary directions was so important: free my neck SO THAT my head would move forward and up... I was not doing the "so that" part: I was freeing my neck, but not allowing any movement to happen. Suddenly I found it! I first applied the directions a little bit, to easy up the slump, and then... then I found some other direction (*), perhaps some other neural pathway, in which I could get from weakly issuing directions to actually lifting my self out of the slump, without actually actively telling myself to do it. Instead of starting down the path of taking myself out of the slump, I start down the path of just letting go a bit and applying the directions, and then was able to continue this path to taking myself out of the slump in some other way.

As soon as I did it, I immediately realized that I had done it in the past, yet just a few minutes ago this "some other direction" still seemed impossible. However, it was not clear if Mark noticed all the change that has just happened or how he interpreted it. He pointed out that I allowed to come out of the slump. This was weird. After all, I still had to do something to come out of the slump. I am not referring to the physical things that I had to do, but I had to play with my nervous system to make it issue a certain signal to come out of the slump in a particular, peculiar, nonhabitual way. Yet here he was, talking about "allowing".

Of course, I know that "allow" in this context often just means "soften", "don't end-gain too much", etc. Yet at this moment I took it literally, and it just seemed wrong. It's not like I was trying to come out of the slump and, at the same time, not allowing it to happen. It was more like I was trying to come out of the slump and, at the same time, at first was not able to make it happen in the desirable way. However, when I tried to reproduce the experience a couple of times, I started to notice the "not allowing". I would slightly slump, issue the directions "weakly', reproduce the experience of being unable to come out of the slump without just actually doing it (but not use "some other direction" (*) described above); and then I would observe, what prevented me from actually coming up. Suddenly I started to "see" inside myself this very my own "not allowing". It had a flavor of this idea that you should inhibit, you shouldn't just do things the direct way. By targeting this "not allowing" directly I was able to come out of the slump in yet another, subtly different way (**, different from "the other direction" described above). As I kept working on this one, after a few dozen seconds I started to come out of the slump really, really quickly, almost instantly, as soon as I deactivated this "not allowing". I immediately recalled what I read, I think, in Walter Carrington's lectures: "The right thing does itself, the right things does itself, the right thing does itself!"

It was peculiar that this "not allowing" felt very much like the classical "Alexandrian inhibition". After all, the former is supposed to be bad, whereas the latter is supposed to be good. I conjectured for a minute that the two were, in some sense, the same: inhibition = "not allowing". However, they still felt subtly different: the "not allowing" felt like a black net spread over something; inhibition doesn't feel like that at all. Yet they shared the same pause with nothing happening.

After a quick discussion with Mark I became clear on this one. Inhibition, in the Alexander Technique, is consciously preventing something that would otherwise (habitually) happen. Allowing, in the Alexander Technique, is consciously making something happen that would otherwise (habitually) not happen. They are very much the same thing; the key is conscious control.

Now that I think about it, though, I see that there are two different ways to allow things, but only one way to inhibit. When I sense the stimulus inside myself that is going to lead to some action, I can weaken it (or "let it pass"), and this is inhibition. (I am not sure if there is a difference between weakening and ignoring.) However, if I feel a stimulus that is too weak, such as the stimulus to come out of the slump, I can either strengthen it to allow (allow=make it possible) it to happen. This is what I described above as "some  other direction" (*). I can also notice what other stimulus is inhibiting the desirable stimulus, what I described above as "the black net", and inhibit the inhibiting stimulus to eventually allow the desirable stimulus to happen. This is what I described above as "yet another, subtly different way" (**) to come out of the slump. (There are lots of other ways to come out of the slump without "actually doing it", such as using imagery or somewhat related approaches of "using the breath".)



Saturday, November 2, 2013

Motion parallax (March - October, 2012)

So, I started therapy with Dr. Richard Kavner. I kept coming for sessions two or even three times a week, though later I reduced it to once a week for financial reasons. When given exercises, I diligently did them at home, but with considerably less enthusiasm than I did during my own experiments. This, by the way, was a huge mistake. I notice over and over how essential can be quantity.

Even though it looked like there was a little bit of improvement, gradually I lost even more enthusiasm. The first 20-30 sessions passed, I decided to continue therapy, and there was no end in sight. My vision was O.K.; however, now, I was "blessed" with double vision, which became a very pronounced issue after an initial period of VT. My right eye was more thoroughly unsuppressed and was actively fighting with my left eye. At the same time, perceptually everything was about the same. It looked like we were just doing a little bit of "polishing"; fundamentally, the "3D" was the same as before.

Whenever I did exercises with various stereograms "hanging in space", I would often receive instructions to sway my body left and right and to see, if the imaginary stereogram were moving "the same direction" or "the opposite direction". I did my best, although this always seemed to me a stupid exercises, as "obviously", if you sway right, everything would move to the left, and vice versa. Gradually, though, I became better at doing those exercises, and recognized, that sometimes the image would move "in the same direction", and sometimes --- "in the opposite".

Then one day, probably in September-October, 2012, I was walking down the street in Brooklyn. There were cars parked along both sides of the street. I was walking and, as usual, looking at the street, the cars, the trees, notice the depth, the distances, and so forth. Now, since I was walking, so to say, forward, the cars were perceptually moving back for me, much like if you look out of a train window, everything will be moving back relative to you. At some point I looked at a car parked on my side of the road, and noticed in the periphery, that the cars on the opposite side were moving forward. They were moving in the wrong direction!

This made no sense. The cars on the opposite side of the road seemed to be moving forward when I was going forward, so long as I looked on the cars parked on my side of the road. However, if I looked further away, perhaps at the buildings on the other side, then all cars seemed to be moving backward, relative to my movement. That is, it mattered where I was looking.

This was an entirely new phenomenon. Prior to that, the direction of my gaze had never made much difference. Of course, if I turned my head or my body, I could look at other things. However, it my no difference, which particular object I was looking at; it was much like moving a mouse pointer on a computer screen: "visual focus" simply meant "attention". Yet in this situation, shifting my gaze while moving changed the direction in which the cars (that I saw in the peripheral vision) were "moving": from backward to forward. It really mattered, what I was looking it; and, in fact, I received immediate feedback as to what I was looking it. Of course, at first it was not easy to trigger this parallax effect: it had to keep looking at a particular car or object for 5-10 seconds before the effect kicked in. But I immediately went for a walk, and after 1-2 hours I was able to reduce the time to less than a second. That is, if I started looking at some object while walking, after about 1 second I felt that the parallax effect started working somewhere in my visual system, and lots of objects in the periphery suddenly started moving, one way or another. On the following days this parallax effect only got stronger; and it has been with me ever since. Now I can hardly imagine, what I "saw" prior to that. The best explanation I have is that prior to discovering this new "parallax effect" I had never been looking at anything, or at least not consistently. True, I had written in this blog about "binocular focus", but I think that I had been very imprecise with my focus, sometimes looking a little in front of an object, sometimes a little behind, and easily loosing focus when either I or the object was moving.

Of all the changes that I have so far experienced in vision therapy, that was perhaps the most significant one. It was almost as surprising as the original discovery of stereopsis. Almost all of the other changes during my vision therapy have been relatively minor, incremental; this one was radical, black-and-white kind of change, after which the new mode of seeing quickly and completely replaced the old one.

If I take off the contact lens on my eye, the fusion get much worse, and the parallax effect does not work that well. But this is still not the same as it was in the past. Now the parallax effect makes complete sense. I could even draw a diagram. Of course, if I am walking along the street and looking on the car on this side, perceptually the cars and the buildings on the other side would be moving in the same direction. Yet a little more than a year ago this was virtually beyond my imagination.

Update: October, 2011 - March, 2012

Many people have asked me to continue my blog, so here is an update.

After the events described in this blog I stopped regular work on my eyes, as I didn't have the enthusiasm to devote to it several hours every day without any clear direction. Gradually my vision deteriorated a little bit. The stereopsis stayed, but it became somewhat weirder, somewhat more unfocused. I went for an evaluation at New York Eye and Ear. First of all, they prescribed me contact lenses as my right eye was a bit nearsighted. They gave me -1.75 for the right eye and also temporarily 0.50 for the left, normal, eye, just to help to recover the balance between the eyes. After a few weeks they still checked my vision and concluded that my right eye was "beyond training" and that I needed an operation for strabismus to recover. They also checked for fusion with a prism, to straighten the right eye, and -- indeed -- I was able to see a stereogram in this case. So they concluded that the strabismus operation was likely to be effective. I asked about the risks. The doctor (Christopher Seebruck, MD) said that the risk was comparable to that of being hit by a lightning; though, on the Internet I found out that even the chance of death from a strabismus operation was rather high, much higher than that of being hit by a lightning. But, anyway, in February, 2012, the congress of doctors told me that I needed an operation, and that I should make an appointment if/when I made this choice. For some reason they really stressed that I had some "pseudostrabismus", so that even after an operation, my eyes wouldn't be cosmetically 100% straight. This didn't really bother me that much; I was more worried that an operation could cause some irreparable damage; and, besides, after my own experiences of discovering stereopsis, I couldn't believe that my right eye was "beyond" training: after all, I saw 3D around me, and they tried to judge it by some tiny stereogram that, probably, required much higher stereoacuity. By the way, the doctors were not terribly interested in my story about acquiring binocular vision. Only one very old and experienced doctor, who at one point came to check my eyes, seemed to attach some credibility to my explanation. Also, they discussed it all with me on a very basic level: eye in the center, eye on the side, etc. At times I felt I knew more about stereopsis than they did.

In the meantime, I made an appointment with Dr. Kavner, a vision therapist recommended to me by somebody from Peter Grunwald's retreat. He made an initial evaluation and said that he should be able to make my eyes to converge at a relatively close distance --- I forgot, perhaps a foot --- after 20-30 sessions, if I remember correctly. He was not that interested in my own story either, but I didn't try to push it after the way it was received at NYEE. After that visit I didn't really have an opinion, but I did notice that my vision somewhat improved just after this 30-minute evaluation; and I wondered, how beneficial should be the actual therapy.

During the winter of 2011-2012 I went home to Russia and decided to get a third opinion. I went to "Eksimer", a top, fancy, dedicated vision clinic in St. Petersburg, and paid for a complete evaluation.  I was evaluated by two doctors: one --- a very experienced opthalmologist with decades of experience; the other --- specifically an expert on strabismus. Now, recall that, in addition to strabismus, I had imperfect vision in my right eye: a lens for -1.75. The first thing they told me: I needed laser correction. That was the first step, and then they had to make the decision about strabismus operation. I mentioned the opinion I received in New York --- one by NYEE, the other by Dr. Kavner. Both opinions were dismissed; they said something like "We here [in St. Petersburg, Russia] know what we are doing; they don't know very much [there, in New York]". But wait... On top of that they offered me a 10% discount on laser correction if I did it TOMORROW. This was not an easy decision to make, but eventually I convinced myself to decline this option, as clearly they didn't have my best interest in mind. Furthermore, my mother argued that, should I have any issues, I'd have to travel back to Russia to see a doctor.

Back in New York, I still had to decided what to do. Eventually I decided to give vision therapy a try --- after all, I was promised some specific results after 20-30 sessions --- and, thus, not to risk going for an operation right away. I was also very curious about VT, and it was much more in line with my philosophy. Though, I admit, it was tempting to just go and schedule an operation, so that --- it seemed --- all my problems would go away in just a few weeks.

So I started vision therapy with Dr. Richard Kavner. This was in spring, 2012...