Order

Order is not limitation. It is intelligence over chaos.

Movement begins long before a muscle contracts. It starts in the motor cortex, where intention is formed, then travels as an electrical signal down the corticospinal tract through the spinal cord, synapsing onto motor neurons that carry the message to muscle fibers. Each step depends on the one before it. When this order is intact, movement is precise and coordinated. When it is disrupted—such as in neurodegenerative conditions like ALS—the signal degrades, and purposeful movement can no longer be achieved, not because the muscle lacks effort, but because the sequence has been lost.

Joseph Pilates understood this principle intuitively. Contrology was never designed as a collection of exercises chosen at random. It is a system—each movement placed intentionally, each exercise preparing the body and nervous system for what follows. In Return to Life, Pilates makes it clear: advancement is earned through mastery of the fundamentals. Without the groundwork, higher-level work becomes strain rather than strength.

In the method, order teaches patience and respect for progression. You do not skip ahead. The body must first be organized before it can be challenged. Just as a neural signal must travel its full path to produce movement, each exercise must do its work to prepare the next. When that order is ignored, compensation replaces coordination.

Order also restores trust. When sequence is respected, the body begins to respond predictably. Strength builds evenly. Mobility appears where tension once lived. The nervous system finds rhythm instead of reactivity.

In life, we often resist order, mistaking it for restriction. But true order creates freedom. It removes chaos, reduces unnecessary effort, and allows energy to be directed with clarity.

Before intensity, before complexity, before variation—there is order.

It is the structure that allows intelligent movement to exist at all.

Control

Control is not rigidity. It is intelligence.

In physiology, control is the nervous system’s ability to coordinate movement—timing, sequencing, precision. Muscles do not act alone; they respond to signals. When those signals are clear, movement is efficient. When they are not, the body compensates, overworks, and eventually breaks down.

I have always been drawn to control. To precision. To getting things right. Perfectionism, when unchecked, can masquerade as discipline. But control without awareness becomes tension—held breath, gripping muscles, rigidity disguised as strength.

Pilates revealed this to me.

Contrology does not reward force or perfection. It demands presence. It asks for restraint when excess is tempting, and attention when the mind wants to rush ahead. In the work, control is not about holding on—it is about knowing when to soften. When to release effort and allow coordination to replace strain.

In anesthesia, control takes a different but parallel form. Physiology must be respected, not overridden. The body responds to precise inputs—oxygen, ventilation, medications—each requiring timing, dosage, and constant feedback. Too much is just as dangerous as too little. Stability comes not from dominance, but from balance.

This understanding reshaped how I move.

In Contrology, control begins at the center and extends outward. Movement is guided, not imposed. The body learns to organize itself rather than brace against itself. When control is present, the nervous system settles, breath deepens, and strength becomes sustainable rather than brittle.

This is where perfectionism begins to heal.

Pilates replaces the need to force with the ability to feel. It teaches trust in the system—both physiological and personal. That when the body is given clarity, it will respond intelligently.

Before flow, before power, before endurance—there is control.

Not control as constraint, but control as clarity.

Breath

Before movement, before strength, before thought—there is breath.

It is the first act of life and the last to leave us. A constant exchange between the body and its environment, sustaining every cell through oxygen delivery and carbon dioxide removal. Without it, metabolism stops. Energy production ceases. Life ends. Breath is not symbolic—it is physiological truth.

In medicine, breath is the priority after circulation. Airway, ventilation, oxygenation. It is the foundation upon which all other systems depend. When breathing fails, nothing else can compensate. It’s the moment in which the stakes are high for us anesthesia providers. The body may endure pain, injury, even loss—but it cannot endure the absence of breath.

In Contrology, breath holds equal authority. Not as a passive background process, but as an active organizer of movement. Proper breathing influences intra-thoracic pressure, spinal support, rib mobility, and nervous system regulation. It allows the body to move efficiently rather than forcefully, intelligently rather than excessively.

Joseph Pilates emphasized full breathing because he understood its systemic impact. He emphasized a strong center that doesn’t change in dimensions while the rib cage expands to the “zee” air in. Breath oxygenates tissue, stimulates circulation, and supports the natural rhythm of the body. When coordinated with movement, it creates flow. When ignored, movement becomes disjointed and strained.

Breath is unique in that it exists between the voluntary and the involuntary. It happens without conscious effort, yet it can be refined through discipline. It becomes shallow with stress and deepens with awareness. We can disrupt it—or we can use it to restore order. Which would you rather choose?

In life, breath is often the first thing we lose under pressure. We hold it in fear, shorten it in anxiety, forget it in urgency. And yet, returning to breath is one of the simplest and most effective ways to return to balance.

Before control, before strength, before precision—there is breath.

It is the most essential movement we will ever perform.

Powerhouse

Some words follow you quietly before you realize they are shaping your life.

The first time I heard powerhouse, I was a sophomore at Costa Mesa High School, sitting in AP Biology. The mitochondria—the powerhouse of the cell. The structure responsible for converting nourishment into usable energy. Essential for life, yet invisible to the naked eye. Without it, nothing functions. And yet, it’s rarely acknowledged.

Discovered in the late 19th century, mitochondria were once thought to be insignificant cellular granules. It wasn’t until decades later that scientists understood their true role: energy production, metabolism, survival. The center from which life sustains itself.

I had no idea that word would return to me years later—this time not in a textbook, but in my body.

During my classical Pilates training with Julie Erickson, I heard it again. The powerhouse. A term widely attributed to Romana Kryzanowska—though whether Joseph Pilates himself used the word matters less than the concept he lived by. Movement begins at the center. Strength radiates outward. The body functions as a connected chain, not isolated parts.

The parallels weren’t lost on me.

That day in biology class, I couldn’t have imagined how often this word would resurface in my life.

Around the time I finished my Pilates training and graduated college, I found myself torn between two paths: Pilates or medicine. I had completed the prerequisites. I had the scientific foundation. Medical school was a real and reasonable option. At the same time, Pilates had ignited something deeper—something embodied, purposeful, alive. I had experienced the method in its purest form at Endurance Pilates, and it changed me.

The decision was not simple. It was shaped by immigrant expectations, by the pressure to achieve financial stability I did not grow up with, by practicality. Classical Pilates—especially authentic training—was (and still is) an expensive pursuit. I was incredibly fortunate to receive Julie Erickson’s mentorship through a pathway that made the work accessible to me when it otherwise would not have been.

I chose medicine.

Years later, as a Certified Anesthesiologist Assistant, I have no regrets. I respect the craft deeply. I’ve witnessed its power firsthand—especially during a spine surgery mission trip to Honduras, where medicine truly served humanity at its best.

But with time came clarity.

Medicine is a science. Healthcare, however, is a business—one that profits from illness. That paradox has grown louder for me. While surgery and anesthesia are often lifesaving and absolutely necessary, they are ultimately reactive responses to breakdown.

At this stage of my life, I’m drawn toward something else: true health. Proactive health. The kind Joseph Pilates envisioned—one built through daily, disciplined movement, breath, and awareness. Contrology as prevention, not intervention.

I don’t reject medicine. I don’t reject surgery. I honor them.

But I choose the blend.

Just as the mitochondria quietly power the cell, the powerhouse quietly powers the body. Strong, intelligent movement from the center outward. This is where healing begins—not after something breaks, but before.

And perhaps that’s why this word keeps finding me.

Because the powerhouse—whether in a cell or in a human being—has always been where life truly starts.