Slow, methodical movement sequences that progressively reveal how your body connects and works as a whole. Rooted in the teachings of Moshe Feldenkrais, FM Alexander, and other movement masters. Grounded in the core principles found in Aikido and Tai Chi. With a taste of New Games.
So that you can move any part of you that you desire - in any direction, at any speed, performing smooth transitions... with ease, confidence and safety.
No clue. But it works. (Okay, I have some clue 😉)
Bending down to pick something up with the simplicity of a child
Walking across the room with the lightness of a cat
Reaching for a book with the grace of a dancer
This is not a practice about reaching goals. It's about exploring them.
Goals will be reached. But that's not where we start.
We start with you — exactly as you are today. Your movement. Your range. Your body's current conversation with itself. We call this your Play Range — the zone where a movement feels easy in both directions. Where you can make the move and return from it without strain, without bracing, without holding your breath.
That's your foundation. Not someone else's standard. Yours. Once that foundation feels normal — genuinely normal, not forced — we introduce one complexity. Just one. Carefully. Intelligently. And we stay there until that new complexity becomes the new normal. The new base.
Then we reach further.
This is what makes DoHM different from yoga, Pilates, barre, or any other movement practice you've tried. Not the movements themselves — but the principle underneath them. You never reach beyond your current foundation. You keep building the floor before you add another story.
The result is a practice that compounds. Every session, you're building on something real.
Your nervous system has one job: Keep You Safe.
It does this by treating the unknown as a threat. A movement it hasn't seen before, a range it hasn't explored, a demand it wasn't prepared for. The moment it detects something unfamiliar, it responds the only way it knows how — stiffness, pain, fatigue. Not because something is wrong. Because something is new.
This is not a malfunction. It's a feature.
My mission is to work with that feature, not against it. To introduce movement in a way your nervous system recognizes as safe. To earn its trust — slowly, deliberately, one signal at a time. When your nervous system stops bracing for impact, something remarkable happens. It opens. New movement becomes possible. Old limitations quietly dissolve.
DoHM exists to retrain not just how you move — but how your nervous system thinks about moving. That shift in perception is the whole game.
It's why I built this practice.
My movement education began about 25 years ago in an Aikido dojo in New York City.
Within a week of my first class, something had shifted. The way I moved my partner on the mat started showing up everywhere else. How I opened the refrigerator door. How I pulled a dresser drawer. How I walked hand in hand with my three-year-old son down the street, leading him without force, without pulling, without thinking about it.
The idea of moving without force became a puzzle I've never stopped turning over.
The Alexander Technique broadened the inquiry. Suddenly I was noticing coordination — the relationship between my head and my spine as I sat down, the connection between my shoulder and my hip as I reached for something. Movement as a whole-body conversation rather than isolated effort.
Feldenkrais took it further still. Beyond the straight lines and predictable arcs of everyday motion. Into shapes and sequences I'd never thought to explore. Into the edges of what the body knows about itself.
Twenty-five years later, movement is not something I practice during training. It's something I'm exploring all the time. In the dojo, yes. But also in the kitchen, on the sidewalk, in every ordinary moment that involves a body moving through space.
That ongoing inquiry is what DoHM is built from. Not a curriculum. A life's work.
DoHM
Secure your spot — Saturday mornings, Daniel Island