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Cross Country 5-The Name of the Room

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  • Cross Country 5-The Name of the Room

    Posted by Barrett<script language="JavaScript1.3" type="text/javascript"> document.write(timestamp(new Date(2004,7,8,12,2,0), dfrm, tfrm, 0, 0, 0, 0)); </script> (Member # 67) on 08-08-2004 19:02<noscript>August 08, 2004 12:02 PM</noscript>:

    It’s been a quiet week in Cuyahoga Falls…

    The hotel in Davenport was a “Holidome.” This is a Holiday Inn with a large pool in the center of the lobby. I’ve been in these places before and have concluded that while it probably attracts a family trying to entertain their kids, for every other traveler the noise it creates next to the surrounding rooms is, well, hellish. Predictably, in the damp atmosphere of the building things swell; like the door to my room. I found that after I pulled the key and saw the little green light flashing I had to quickly ram my shoulder into the door or it wasn’t going to open. It wouldn’t have surprised anybody watching to hear me to shout, “Police!” every time I gained entry. My imagination almost allowed me to follow this with a classic gun-raised stance and a loud “Hit the floor dirtbags!” I say “almost” because the one time I tried this I made my shoulder charge just before the little green light had gone on and, well, you can appreciate what happened next.

    I might have guessed that the class in front of me the next morning was going to be a bit of a hard sell when they didn’t laugh at my “Welcome to Davenport Idaho” joke. I thought it was pretty funny when I wakened and it came to me at about 2AM (The ice pack on my shoulder had begun to leak). I had just passed through a lobby full of Secret Service agents, Bush and Kerry having converged on this town the same day I was there, and the variety of facial expressions on the agents were mirrored in the therapists before me. Let’s just say they were as varied as the Idaho landscape. I mean Iowa. Things got a little better, but not much. Plenty of interest, but no real laughter. I seem to need this in order to be sure that in this short format people aren’t just being informed but also entertained. I know that a significant percentage will be satisfied with this and I don’t need to do much more.

    I’d seen Venus rising over a music store across the street from the hotel early that morning and reasoned that north was to my left out of the driveway so I chose that direction and headed toward Chicago. There I found myself in a beautiful suite in a fine hotel. The door to my room opened effortlessly and I slept well. I didn’t even need any ice that night. The class began with an identical ease and I was beginning to make some connection between my room entry and the delivery of my first lecture. Then a woman in the front row interrupted my opening after about two minutes with a loud speech about how sick her patients were for reasons I wasn’t addressing. Two minutes! Clearly she wasn’t asking a question so much as announcing her presence. I wish she could have seen the faces of the people behind her. They were far more telling than any I’d seen in Davenport. It was a long day with the heckling but at least a little laughter greeted my funnier lines. The meeting room there was called “Truffles.” At the Holidome-Meeting Room D. What does that tell you? Funny thing, my memory of Chicago is mainly of the great meal I had Wednesday night.

    That afternoon I turned north again, headed for Milwaukee. It’s a beautiful city with clean, German architecture and broad Midwestern avenues. I was out by the airport where my room wasn’t exactly palatial, but the door opened easily. I found the class did as well. My first attempt at humor was greeted warmly and with enthusiasm. No one I spoke to had any previous familiarity with my ideas but I wasn’t interrupted before they had been articulated and the class accepted the eccentric nature of the handling I teach because they understood the theoretical basis and found it plausible. They were especially interested in my description of corrective movement as a creative act. I said “The artist is the easiest person to treat because authentic expression is something they trust, and you need to get your patients to feel the same way about their movements.”

    I sold this easily and the people there walked out ready to alter their approach. Or, at least, it seemed so to me. Today it occurs to me where we met, and what that might have implied.

    The meeting room was called “Rembrandt.”
    Last edited by bernard; 30-12-2005, 05:58 PM.
    Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. L VINCI
    We are to admit no more causes of natural things than such as are both true and sufficient to explain their appearances. I NEWTON

    Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not a bit simpler.
    If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough. Albert Einstein