A little boy with Williams syndrome—akin, I would think, to autism, although I’m certainly no expert—comes in contact with an extremely gentle horse. He seems to be alone with the horse but there’s obviously a camera nearby. The boy is not distracted, just not attracted to anything at first. Gradually the boy senses the presence of the horse. Both approach, touch, and briefly nuzzle. And then it happens, one of the most moving moments on film. The boy is thunderstruck and recoils, hands in the air, an indescribably wondrous expression on his face, not less wondrous than your or my touching the face of God. The purity of that animal presence has broken through.
What was it in the horse that allowed that? Its pure horsiness, its unadulterated “isness,” could we say? I submit we humans can bring this quality to one another in non-doing. Teacher stop teaching, singer, stop singing, would-be-mate, stop seeking. Embrace your self and your apparent faults and failings. Meet the other from where you are. It is an aphorism, of course, but if we would touch someone, we must first allow ourselves to be touched. Allowing your self to be touched, embracing the other in acceptance, might to be the the first goal of the teacher, including the teacher of the Alexander Techniqiue. Non-doing is not losing one’s self. It is gaining one’s self as we really are, warts and all, and the acceptance of the other. It is like touching the face of God. Astonishing.