Alexander Technique and Trauma: Exploring the Intersection

Personal Reflection
Written By Alexander Studies Online

The ASO Newsletter - 58th edition

Working together to enable greater understanding of the Alexander Technique through disciplined inquiry.

This month we share a written piece by Niall Kelly, who reflects on his observations and ongoing inquiry into trauma responses that can arise in Alexander Technique (AT) lessons. Drawing from both his teaching practice and his study of trauma, Niall describes what he has witnessed in his work with students and offers examples that invite reflection and discussion within the AT community.

His piece connects with themes explored in earlier ASO interviews with Marcus James and Brigitta Mowat, both of whom discussed the intersections between the Alexander Technique and psychotherapy. It also resonates with Theory 8 in the realist review by Kinsey, Glover, and Wadephul (2021), which examined how psychological and non-physical outcomes in AT may be shaped by teachers’ responses to emotion within lessons. Links to these earlier ASO posts and the realist review are included in the resources below.

Niall’s writing invites us to consider how the AT profession might engage more openly with the topic of trauma by fostering awareness, understanding, and dialogue - while remaining clearly within the scope and skills of our work as AT teachers. He will explore the practicalities for AT teachers encountering trauma responses at the Alexander Technique Convention which is being held in Kamnick, Slovenia, next July 2026.

 

Alexander Technique and Trauma: Exploring the Intersection

By Niall Kelly

Overview

Throughout my time in the Alexander world, I have experienced unintended outcomes in students’ responses to my work. Conversations with colleagues confirm that many teachers have had similar experiences. I am talking about the sudden and unexpected release of trauma responses.

This paper makes the case for a broader acknowledgment and understanding of something that often arises within the Alexander profession, and considers how we might meet it more openly, honestly, and consciously.

I am also arguing that a greater understanding of trauma, and of how students respond to it, will enable us as teachers to navigate this process ethically and responsibly and advance our work in the world today. I am not arguing for Alexander Technique (AT) teachers to become trauma therapists.

In my experience over some 25 years, I have often been reminded of the practice of discouraging the exploration of traumatic experiences for fear of re-traumatising students. Despite this, and despite FM Alexander’s teaching against getting involved in emotional responses during lessons, I am proposing that the Alexander Technique, through its inherent qualities of touch, breath, co-regulation, presence, and intention, can, as we understand it today, inadvertently facilitate the release of stored trauma responses. Many people who come for lessons may in fact be driven by the consequences of an earlier trauma.

Trauma is not simply an injury, illness, or assault. It is an incomplete response to an experience, one that is so threatening and overwhelming it triggers a person reflexively and unconsciously to survive. Such a response can arise in an instant, as in for example, a car crash, or it can develop over a longer period, as in chronic illness, bullying, or sexual harassment and developmental trauma. Herman and van der Kolk describe, how early and repeated experiences of neglect or abuse can also leave deep imprints on the nervous system, even in the absence of a single overwhelming event (Herman, 1992; van der Kolk, 2014). Of course, for some students, what surfaces may not be a single incident but the residue of developmental trauma such as the repeated experiences of neglect, abuse or relational stress in early life.

By “trauma release” I mean the spontaneous emotional and often physical responses that arise during lessons, not through deliberate therapeutic methods or intentions, but through the conditions of safety and presence created in a lesson. I have always believed my role as an Alexander technique teacher is to recognise and respond ethically when such releases occur and not to process or resolve trauma. In the absence of a clear understanding of trauma, some students may not have received the support they need.


My Experience in AT

From my first encounters with the technique in 2001 I noticed a recurring, but largely unspoken phenomenon in lessons, workshops, and conferences: people laughing, sometimes almost hysterically, crying, becoming angry, sighing, twisting, jerking and trembling. Sometimes it was tolerated and even encouraged. Often it was ignored and allowed to run its course through the lesson. In other cases, it was actively discouraged.

I have heard teachers telling students to leave the room when they became emotional and cried. I’ve been told by senior teachers that crying, or any other form of emotional expression has no place in the work.

There is even an account of F. M. Alexander telling an elderly gentleman that he, Alexander, was not his enemy when the man became angry during a lesson and simply left him to figure it out for himself (Carrington & Carey, 1992, p. 94). It seems that some early teachers were discouraged from addressing emotional expression during a lesson. From my own experience, some teachers have since learned to avoid engaging with students when they become emotional, whether through tears, anger, or sudden withdrawal, and this avoidance sometimes carries an unseen cost for students. This concern echoes Theory 8 in the realist review by Kinsey, Glover, and Wadephul (2021), which explores how psychological and non-physical outcomes in Alexander work may be shaped by teachers’ responses to emotional expression and the contexts that allow (or inhibit) it.

I had always thought crying was simply an emotional response to what was happening in the moment, much as people might do in a wide variety of settings. But I have since come to recognise that crying may be an early indication of trauma release. This was not being facilitated deliberately through the work but simply arose.

Research suggests that crying can function not only as an emotional signal but also as a somatic self-soothing mechanism, aiding the regulation of mood, arousal, and stress through physiological pathways (Gračanin, Bylsma, & Vingerhoets, 2014). In trauma literature, such tears are sometimes understood as part of a wider discharge process, a sign that the nervous system is shifting out of defensive activation toward regulation (Levine, 1997; van der Kolk, 2014). I now recognise that the crying I witnessed wasn’t just emotional, it was also somatic: a visible marker of the body beginning to let go. And yes, I also realise that crying is not trauma release.


Discerning a Pattern

Throughout my teaching, I began to discern an often repeated pattern. In the course of a lesson students become increasingly quiet, both verbally and physically. Their breathing deepens and slows, sometimes due to Whispered Ahs and Full Chest breathing. Their face and body soften. Their hands and feet warm up. They sigh, reflexively inhale deeply, twist, jerk, jump, tremble.

Then suddenly and unpredictably, a strong muscle contraction/spasm/release occurs resulting instantly in a new, softer coordination and an insight. I have interpreted this eruption as a letting go, or ‘reversing’ out of the original muscle holding pattern they had adapted to protect themselves at the time of a traumatic experience. This is immediately followed by their unprompted recalling of a long forgotten or deeply buried memory, narrated with remarkable clarity, completeness and calmness. The student always knows the memory is real but generally had no prior conscious recollection, or just a vague recollection of it beforehand.

Where a student had a vague recollection, they did not have the level of understanding or detail they were now recounting. And most surprising, they would re-tell their story, in all its horrors, with a sense of awe or bemusement and without a hint of distress, despite the original experience having once been too threatening and overwhelming to process or access.

For some students, what surfaces may not be a single incident but the residue of developmental trauma such as repeated experiences of neglect or relational stress in early life. This includes trauma responses resulting from ‘simple traumas’ such as injuries, illnesses and emergency surgeries. I am not necessarily talking about what might be called ‘complex trauma’, such as extensive physical, psychological or sexual assault, although these too do arise.

The changes did not occur in any particular order but most would arise as part of a constellation that preceded the release.

These releases were happening not because I was doing anything intentionally “therapeutic” to initiate it. I now realise the releases were happening because of touch, breath, presence and the quiet attention we all apply in lessons. These, I have come to appreciate, are powerful interventions that, in themselves, can instill a calming and sense of safety. However, when consciously combined such as in an AT lesson, they can have an even greater effect than simply changing responses to stimuli.


Case Studies

Nora (shared with permission) came for lessons because of chronic right shoulder pain. She was at the point where she was actively exploring surgery. She got immediate relief from her first lesson but it returned within 3 or 4 days. We agreed to work for a series of lessons during which I became increasingly aware of a difference in tension in her shoulders. Her right shoulder felt less fluid. In exploring this I asked her if she had ever injured that shoulder. She emphatically exclaimed she hadn’t. However, on checking with her mother she was reminded of how she broke her elbow at the age of 6. As we discussed this she then remembered how, with her arm in a sling, she discovered that if she tied the sling tightly she could push her elbow out in front of her to lessen the discomfort. She had done this for eight weeks. Decades later, when I helped her release her shoulder and arm into my hands, she suddenly let go of the protective pattern and exclaimed: “Oh, the pain has gone.” She went on to tell the full story of the childhood fall, which she had completely forgotten. She was 48. 

Marie (pseudonym) came to me with back pain. A piece of office furniture had fallen on her at work and she was not able to get any lasting relief through her doctor and physiotherapist and was spending more time off work than she wanted. Her manager had even suggested she might be extending her time off to make a case against the company. She attended for some five or six lessons as she was finding AT helpful. On her last lesson we were working in sitting to standing when she suddenly convulsed with a powerful spasm. She then recalled an incident years earlier when training for an underwater diving certificate: after losing track of her air supply and nearly drowning, she had made a panicked ascent to the surface, arching her back to push her face forward as she gasped for air. She realised her posture in that emergency exactly matched her posture when she first came for lessons. As she retold the story, and made connections with what was happening in the lesson she felt her back pain eased and then stopped. She had completely forgotten the incident, which had taken place some 15 years earlier.


Key Insights from Reading and Research

The manner in which I teach AT is, for some students, very different to that which they might receive from many other teachers or indeed, from myself in different circumstances. Releasing trauma responses is not an acknowledged part of AT, so I set out to examine what was actually happening.

Taking a problem-solving approach to the issue, I began by looking at the key factors involved in my work that may create conditions to support release:

  • Hands, hands-on and touch.

  • Breath and breathing through the Whispered Ah and full chest breathing.

  • The calming effects of constructive rest or lie-down.

  • The neurological effects of Inhibition and Directions.

All of these brought me further into the realms of Neuroscience and Neurobiology, Polyvagal theory and Trauma theory and treatment, than I had encountered on my initial training.


Hands on and The Power of Touch

During my training my colleagues and teachers regularly told me to lessen the pressure I exerted with my hands. I spent quite a bit of time learning to use minimal pressure. I tried to understand what exactly FM and others were doing and was struck by AR Alexander’s comment about hands on being a series of very light pulses. And I reviewed Carrington’s and McDonald’s writing on hands on. They both spoke about hands as being diagnostic and directional. Each spoke of conveying or communicating direction to the student with a minimum of force.

Dacher Keltner of UC Berkeley found that humans can accurately perceive emotional states including compassion, fear, and anger through a single, one-second, fingertip touch. Participants detected compassion at an unexpectedly statistically significant level of 60%. That to me is astonishing but it mirrors something of what we know as teachers: touch conveys state, presence, and intention, and not just Directions.

Our evolved practice, which in many cases involves extended hands-on work, when done with clarity, calmness, and trust, offers more than just direction. It offers compassion and connection. And connection, when combined with safety, is, as we now know, what triggers trauma responses to release.

Porges (2017) and Levine (1997) both emphasise that trauma release requires safety, while Maté (2022) stresses the need for connection. Similarly, van der Kolk (2014) highlights that safety and relational connection are necessary for healing to occur. This is where our work may be even more vital and valuable than we realise.

In short, Alexander used his hands-on work to direct. We are now more likely to use our hands-on work to connect.


Breath and Breathing

On the subject of breath, I began by reviewing FM’s own writings and contrasted them with Carl Stough (Dr Breath), Robert Fried (Breathe Well, Be Well) and John Nestor (Breathe). Together they highlighted the essential role of breath in performance and wellbeing, something Alexander had demonstrated very effectively at the beginning of his career when he became known as “the Breathing Man.” More recent research has substantiated this work. (Trinity College Dublin 2020).

 I also saw how full chest breathing chimes with Stough’s writing on helping severe COPD in military hospitals, which in turn resonates with Fried’s comment on Dr DaCosta, the first Surgeon General in the USA. DaCosta had observed that soldiers suffering from anxiety and restricted breathing benefited from being encouraged to breathe fully. He described the condition as “DaCosta syndrome” and noted how fear and anxiety tend to restrict breathing, as though bracing against danger, ultimately leading to outright panic.

By a curious connection, I came to realise that Gregorian chant was also a form of whispered Ah, as is any form of chanting, especially OM chanting. This, I believe, is why many writers describe chanting and humming as highly effective in easing stress, anxiety and panic. In doing the whispered ah I had for some unknown reason encouraged students to hum, especially when working with groups. This led me to a further insight as to how AT could help with trauma release.


The AT Lie-down and the Appraisal of Safety

Constructive Rest or the  lie-down provides a simple but powerful setting in which defensive muscular patterns can soften. With the head supported, the back lengthening, breathing freeing, and the eyes soft, the nervous system is presented with several cues of support, safety and connection. In this state, postural strain decreases and rest and digest or parasympathetic regulation can re-emerge. Such conditions may even enable the release of protective patterns originally formed in response to injury or trauma (Levine, 1997; van der Kolk, 2014).

This understanding has deep roots. William James, in The Principles of Psychology (1890), argued that emotions arise from bodily states: “we feel sorry because we cry, angry because we strike, afraid because we tremble”. The James–Lange theory strongly influenced FM Alexander’s intellectual climate, and Alexander’s practical discoveries can be seen as a working out of its implications: if bodily states shape experience, then changing habitual bodily use can transform both perception and feeling.

Modern research has developed this line further. Stephen Porges (2011) has shown that posture, breathing, muscle tone, and eye patterns feed into the nervous system’s unconscious appraisal of safety and danger, a process he terms neuroception. Narrowed gaze, forward-neck, or forward-head posture, and contraction of spinal and hip extensors resemble defensive orientations and can bias the system toward perceiving threat and sympathetic arousal.

By contrast, when the body is supported and open, neuroception is more likely to register safety. The lie-down can therefore be understood not only as a rest position but as an embodied intervention: it interrupts the posture-threat loop and reorients the system toward safety, creating conditions in which long-held trauma responses may begin to resolve.


Trauma theory

As Levine explains, “the core of trauma lies not in the precipitating event itself but in unresolved autonomic activation ‘trapped in the nervous system.”  (Levine, 1997 pp18-19). Contrasting animal reactions to trauma in which they ‘shake off’ the experience and muscle tensions associated with it, humans tend to stay quiet, holding on to themselves. From that description we can perhaps more readily see how it is not so much what happens that matters most, but how our response is stored in the body through inaction or a low level freeze. van der Kolk famously entitled his 2014 book: “The body keeps the score,” explaining how trauma is also stored in our muscles, breath and nervous system. And Gabor Maté describes trauma as what happens inside us when we are overwhelmed by threat and must adapt to survive, often in ways that later become obstacles.

Stephen Porges puts it succinctly: “When it comes to identifying safety from an adaptive survival perspective, the wisdom resides in our body and in the structures of our nervous system that function outside the realm of awareness. Cognitive evaluations of risk in the environment, including identifying potentially dangerous relationships, play a secondary role to our visceral reactions to people and places” (Porges, 2017, p.43). 

We have all experienced how in the course of lessons, students’ breathing slows and deepens, especially from whispered Ah and hands-on. I am sure many teachers have experienced how students move from highly aroused as in fight or flight (sympathetic activation) into calm - rest and digest, (parasympathetic state). As Porges notes, this shift also opens the door for deeper responses: emotional, physiological, sometimes memory based.

According to van der Kolk and Maté, when safety is perceived, a release can occur. But in the absence of trauma knowledge and training, we either stray into this territory or are reluctant to venture into it. I did not initially understand how the qualities at the heart of our work, presence, compassionate touch, breath, stillness and attunement, are also key components of somatic trauma release.

In essence, Porges says the ventral vagus helps us connect and feel safe, while the dorsal vagus helps us survive overwhelming threat by disconnecting. When the dorsal vagus releases its grip, stored trauma responses can cease, somatically and cognitively, not dramatically or frighteningly, but in my experience gently, quietly and with genuine healing.

Given this, many of the signs we frequently see in the course of our work such as tears, laughter, jerks trembling, sudden breath shifts, may in fact be indicators that a chronic freeze state is beginning to thaw.


Trauma and Conscious Choice

One reason it is difficult to talk about trauma is because, as we now know, trauma is not in the event itself, but in the nervous system’s response to the event. Trauma can thus be seen as a survival response that has not yet completed.

My response to a back injury I received in a rugby scrum collapse was shaped entirely by my need to avoid the unfathomable pain and frequent spasms I experienced over many years. No medical or therapeutic treatment made a lasting difference. But through the quiet support and directions of the Alexander Technique, I finally learned to release the protective holding I was engaging in as distinct from the original injury.

With more understanding about the deep effects of the Alexander Technique comes more responsibility. The clearer we become about the potential of Alexander’s principles coupled with our touch, the more conscious we must become in choosing how to use it.

This isn’t about taking responsibility for healing trauma, but about understanding when our work may touch it, so that we can choose our next steps ethically and within our competence.

We must acknowledge and understand:

  • Our hands can help regulate the nervous system.

  • Our presence can co-regulate.

  • Our directions can re-pattern not only posture, but perception and experience.

  • To thwart or stop an emerging change before completion is hardly ethical.

Consciously allowing changes and releases to complete does not mean we are becoming trauma therapists. But fully understanding the changes taking place and dealing with them professionally requires that we become trauma-literate.

Becoming trauma-literate means:

  • Recognising trauma’s signs.

  • Understanding the logic of nervous system behaviour.

  • Staying resourced in ourselves.

At times I have come to wonder if the technique, especially when we emphasise breath, hands-on work, lie-down, and quietness, is touching into something deeper than use. Not because we process or interpret trauma, but because the conditions of safety, connection, presence, and regulation we create can allow the nervous system to begin restoring itself. In this sense, the work does not set out to “do therapy,” but it can create a space in which the student’s system feels safe and connected enough to let go of what has been held.


Alexander, Delsarte, and the Quiet Legacy

Alexander never wrote about trauma. He focused on his emerging skills in observing and teaching others to find better use of themselves in voice, breath and movement. Notwithstanding this, emotions clearly arose. In fact, there is anecdotal evidence (Carrington & Carey,1992 p94) to suggest this. When he did encounter emotional release he did not engage in it and trained his teachers to avoid any form of emotional work. How else did teachers learn to send people out of the room when they became upset?

It is worth recalling that when he lost his voice, Alexander trained as a teacher of the Delsarte system. The Delsarte system had been created years earlier by François Delsarte after he himself lost his voice. As part of this training, Alexander must surely have learned how to “de-compose,” or “de-energise,” muscles, that is, to eliminate unnecessary muscular effort before an action, resulting in the actor bringing only the minimum amount of tone required to complete the action or voice without distortion or strain (Stebbins, 1974).

Is it not reasonable to conclude that Alexander’s Delsarte training likely shaped his later use of hands? That quiet, non-doing, gentle contact must have felt remarkably safe to his students. On top of that, Alexander was teaching whispered ahs, which are in fact extended exhalations. Gentle touch and extended exhalations are increasingly considered to be very effective ways of stimulating the vagus nerve, which can support both emotional and physical release.

FM’s decision to avoid emotional territory was understandable at the time. His credibility with the medical profession mattered hugely. Psychotherapy was in its infancy, and he did not understand it at depth. Emotional release must have looked too much like psychological work rather than the somatic or physical work he had become known for. Further, it was still a time of the stiff upper lip. He avoided being seen to do something the medical profession had not yet accepted. So Alexander and his teachers limited hands-on work strictly to directing.

But this did not mean emotional release wasn’t happening. Unfortunately, this culture of avoidance has, to an extent, endured in teaching and training. I would argue that this has limited the scope of our work, and risks reducing the relevance of the Technique in a world that increasingly values approaches which recognise the role of emotion and trauma in human functioning.


Conclusion

Now that we are learning to better understand the mechanisms at play in trauma work and in the Alexander technique, we can better understand how to apply our skills in these areas. We can now choose consciously to facilitate trauma release or to avoid it. We can consciously choose to stay with Alexander’s original light touch hands-on and directions, or we can consciously work more deeply, with extended hands-on and connection.

FM himself wrote in The Universal Constant in Living: “Re-education means a gradual restoration of something that has been previously experienced, something which we have been educated in, but for some reason have lost, as for instance when a person whose use of self has been gradually interfered with over a period of years manifests, as time goes on, more and more harmful effects of this interference in his general use and functioning.” (Alexander, 2000 1941, p.144)

He continues: “Re-education is not a process of adding something, but of restoring something. It was to meet the need of restoring actual conditions of use and functioning which had been previously experienced and afterwards lost that my technique for the re-education of the use of the self was evolved.” (Alexander, 2000 1941, pp.144–5)

One could even read this as encompassing not only habits of misuse, but also the losses that follow injury, illness, or trauma. This statement, often overlooked, quietly affirms what many of us have discovered through our teaching: that our work is not primarily about improving or correcting, but about restoring access to something the person already had and lost.

What I am describing here is not a new therapeutic role for Alexander teachers, but an invitation to acknowledge and ethically navigate phenomena that already occur in our lessons.


Afterword: Touch and Stress in a Time of Collective Freeze

Many researchers suggest we are living through a time of collective stress, i.e. the effects of the aftermath of the pandemic, political upheaval, ongoing wars, climate instability, and economic uncertainty. These challenges are giving rise to what many researchers call a chronic, low-level freeze, a background bracing in bodies and minds, as people unconsciously prepare for the next onslaught. This shows up in how we breathe, how we hold ourselves, and how we relate.

People are surviving, but not always thriving. They are upright, but not always fully present. The fact that so many workers prefer to stay at home, and so many young people resist returning to school, may reflect a widespread pull toward distance and withdrawal.

In this climate, the Alexander Technique may hold a quiet and underappreciated relevance. Our work does not offer dramatic catharsis or immediate “fixes.” Instead, it gently helps people come back:

  • Back to breath.

  • Back to contact.

  • Back to choice.

  • Back to themselves.

This, I believe, is not a redefinition of the Technique, but a recognition of its existing potential. In a world marked by chronic low-level freeze, such qualities may be more needed than ever.

References

Alexander, F. M. (2000 1941). The Universal Constant in Living. London: Mouritz.

Barlow, W. (1973). The Alexander Principle. London: Orion.

Carrington, W., & Carey, S. (1992). Personally Speaking. London: STAT Books.

Dana, D. (2018). The Polyvagal Theory in Therapy. New York: W.W. Norton.

Fried, R. (1990). Breathe Well, Be Well. New York: Wiley.

Hanna, T. (1988). Somatics. New York: Addison-Wesley.

Herman, J. (1992). Trauma and Recovery. New York: Basic Books.

James, W. (1890). The principles of psychology (Vol. 2). New York, NY: Henry Holt and Company.

Jones, F. P. (1976). Freedom to Change. New York: Dutton.

Keltner, D. (2009). Born to Be Good: The Science of a Meaningful Life. New York: W.W. Norton.

Kinsey D.,  Glover L. & Wadephul F. (2021) How does the Alexander Technique lead to psychological and non-physical outcomes? A realist review. European Journal of Integrative Medicine, 46, 101371. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.eujim.2021.101371

Levine, P. (1997). Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma. Berkeley: North Atlantic Books.

Maté, G. (2022). The Myth of Normal. London: Vermilion.

Nestor, J. (2020). Breath. London: Penguin.

Porges, S. W. (2011). The polyvagal theory: Neurophysiological foundations of emotions, attachment, communication, and self-regulation. New York, NY: W. W. Norton & Company.

Porges, S. (2017). The Pocket Guide to Polyvagal Theory. New York: W.W. Norton.

Stebbins, G. (1885). Delsarte System of Expression. New York: Edgar S. Werner.

Stough, C. (1970). Dr Breath. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston.

Trinity College Dublin. (2020). The Yogi masters were right - breathing exercises can sharpen your mind. Retrieved from https://www.tcd.ie/news_events/articles/the-yogi-masters-were-right--breathing-exercises-can-sharpen-your-mind/van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score. New York:

This document was developed with the support of OpenAI’s GPT-5. It was used to assist with on-line research into Alexander Technique and trauma and with organising and refining content. All content was drafted, reviewed, edited, and approved by the human author Niall Kelly to ensure accuracy and integrity. No AI-generated material was included without verification or human oversight.

Related Resources

  • Kinsey D.,  Glover L. & Wadephul F. (2021) How does the Alexander Technique lead to psychological and non-physical outcomes? A realist review. European Journal of Integrative Medicine, 46, 101371. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.eujim.2021.101371

 

About

Niall Kelly teaches the Alexander Technique in Ireland and has an ongoing interest in how trauma and conditioning influence our patterns of use. His work brings together experience from Alexander teaching, trauma study, and breathing practice to explore how greater safety allows genuine change to emerge.

He has been a certified teacher of the Alexander Technique since 2004. Following qualification, he taught on voice and dance programmes at the Irish World Academy, University of Limerick, while maintaining a private teaching practice and continuing his work in management consultancy.

Niall’s longstanding interest in trauma arises in part from his own experiences, including an unintended excess of ether anaesthetic which impaired his breathing. Throughout his teaching career, he has increasingly encountered students who, upon recalling long-forgotten or suppressed traumatic memories, experience a profound release of deeply held muscular tension.

He contributed to the Alexander Technique Conventions held in Dublin in 2011 and 2013, and in 2015 served as a director and keynote speaker at the International Alexander Technique Congress in Limerick. He is a regular contributor at the Alexander Technique Conventions now held in Slovenia.

Niall began his career in marine and aviation communications before moving into industrial relations, human resources, organisational development, and management consultancy. He holds a Master of Science in Management (MSc) from Trinity College Dublin.

 

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