In memory of Elizabeth Langford (1929-2009)


My dear strong sweet Betty,

Let me express my gratitude towards you.
I truly bless the first day I met you. 
In this first meeting I was doubtful and not very confident, wondering if I was ready to start the training, thinking this may begin possibly in the autumn. You never gave me any answers and I will always remember, when you told me, with a sparkle in your clear blue eyes :  « so… see you Monday ? ». 
That was it, as simple as that ! 
This was the start to a new experience on the joys and discoveries of living for the moment. 
You were right to insist, I am so glad that I trusted you intuitively and I had the opportunity to meet you then. I will always cherish these 3 months of training spent with you as these moments will never be lost.
In fact everything you have shared with us will always remain alive and sparkling. You gave me a clear strong view of what is important in the Alexander Technique, with your musical and poetic intelligent point of view. 
Your standards and the strength you gave to the teaching are truly precious for me. 
But beyond that you have taught us another way to stand up to our existence. 
Another path that I look forward to follow.
Let me thank you with all my love for this everlasting present.
Have a nice trip flying Betty, and see you in the beauty of life.


A last poem that I am sure you would appreciate on death, which I can imagine you reading aloud with your perfect theatrical pronunciation.

Death Be Not Proud

by John Donne

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die

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