Being There
Sometimes we hurt in ways that we either cannot express or are not at liberty to share. I hope each of you has at least one person in your life who can just look at you and know if you are OK or not. Even better if the details of your distress are not an issue for them and they can support you in silence, or with a kind word and gentle hand.
As body workers, we often don't need to know the details of the trouble to be able to support our clients through them. Unfortunately we may be the only ones in their lives who touch them, both physically and energetically in a supportive and loving manner without our own specific agenda (beyond alleviating their pain). Everyone hurts sometimes, but not everyone wants to share the back story. Assuming our clients are fine because they have managed to put a smile on their face and are not greeting us at the door with their tales of woe can be shortsighted. At the same time, assuming everyone is in pain and taking it on as our job to pull it out of them come hell or high water is not exactly the best path either.
Remembering that what we are shown on the outside may be only part of the story is crucial. Paying attention to their bodies and how our clients are holding themselves and how their bodies feel under our hands can all be clues to what is really going on. These things can help us make decisions that might be beneficial. But at the end of the day, coming back to holding that space is always the best choice, because it takes our own egos out of the mix. It reminds us that we are there to support, to allow, to leave an opportunity for expansion, whether it's a tight muscle or a heavy heart. Sometimes the details are irrelevant.
When we can meet our clients where they are, without expectation, we elevate not only our relationship with them, but ourselves as professionals. By holding a strong and supportive space we can allow them to unfold within that however they need to. Maybe we will see this occur in some way while they are under our care. Maybe not. Often the most profound impact you make is the one you will never know about.
Balance
(Post #26 in the 31 in 31 Blog Challenge) My kids go back to school today. Or, they were supposed to. My youngest is home sick, and so is my wife. This post was going to be about how this is the first day in months that I will have to myself. That I really need a good amount of alone time. That I have sorely missed it and this date on the calendar has pulled me through some rough days lately. This was going to be my day to get my life back. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and my wife. I love to spend time with them. But, I have lots of other parts of my life that get pushed back when the family is in residence. We have a very small house, and the only real door is on the bathroom. So when I say "get my life back", I mean my balanced life. Where I am dad and husband, but I'm also just me with my work, and my volunteer commitments, and school and play. They call it "balance" because it's just that, it has to be. If not, I fall over.
We all need time to expand into who we are apart from our labels and commitments. It's not always easy, and sometimes we come into places in our lives where it just isn't possible on a regular basis. When this happens it should be a warning that a shift needs to occur. If you see the end of this, if the light of a little time for yourself is on the horizon, then breathe and wait for it. It will come. If you don't see that light, if it's not a temporary situation, then look for small ways to make room. There is almost always enough wiggle somewhere if you dig for it. When we take the time we need for ourselves, we are able to care for all the other people and duties in our life in a much more present manner. Don't believe the voices in your head that tell you it's selfish or unnecessary. It's neither.
You are worth it. It is essential. And your family and friends will thank you for it.
Comfort Zone
(This post is #23 in the 31 in 31 challenge, you can find more information about it here )
Comfort zones. We all have them, and it's a damn good thing too. It's where we rest, it's where we reflect, it's where we rejuvenate. It's the space where we know we are in control and that gives us what we need to let down. We have many of them, for different reasons, but the big this is your life version is the one to watch.
Let's say one of your places to unwind is on the couch (wearing that bathrobe that no one who has not seen you naked will ever see on you that you love) watching old movies. This is your place you can go when you need to unplug. Chances are you don't do this all day long every day, even though it's tempting. You have bills to pay, maybe kids or parents or pets or friends to care for, probably a job to do. If you spent months on end on that couch, sooner or later life comes knocking, not amused that you have been absent. So it's easier to keep the time spent here to what we need and no more.
Harder to see, but more crucial, is the bigger comfort zone. The one that you have become so comfy in that you don't recognize it for what it is. Your cage. The voice that tells you "you can't do that" is such an old friend that it's almost impossible to consider challenging it. The problem is, you actually can live your life in this place. You can arrange everything to fit in there with you. Your job, your hobbies, where you live, what you eat. They can all be part of the big cage that keeps you safe. But once in a while, it's really important to open the door. Stick your nose out, see what happens. Chances are if you take a walk around the outside of your cage you will get a better perspective on what's inside there, and if it's really working for you. A lot of it might be, but isn't it worth knowing for sure? And while you're out there looking around, you might find you feel different. A little more alive, a little more like what you remembered wanting to be like before you built that cage. Amazing things are happening out there. Things that you never thought you could have a part in. The good news is that you can always go back in, but you may find eventually that you no longer want to.
Go Lydia, It's Your Birthday...
11 years ago my second, and last, daughter Lydia was born. As soon as she entered our atmosphere the midwife whisked her away, handed her little body to the nurse and directed her to bring her to the warming table outside and to call the MD on duty. She then turned to me, speaking very slowly and softly, (which was so much scarier than if she had shouted) "go with your baby, rub her feet. Call her into her body. Right now."
I did that while the nurse placed a tiny plastic mask over her face and squeezed a bag that caused her little chest to rise and fall. Soon (though it didn't feel that way at the time) she coughed and sputtered and we all took breaths of our own.
Since that day Lydia, like her sister Maya, has been one of my greatest teachers. She is more motivated and industrious than anyone else in the house by far. She loves to dance, especially in the kitchen. She can do a passable southern accent when necessary. She loves to hop on the massage table whenever she gets the chance. She reads voraciously and has never met a bow-carrying girl or fire-breathing dragon that she could easily walk away from. She loves her friends fiercely, and forgives quickly when necessary. She's the only set of blue eyes in a dark-eyed household, and they move between grey and green with her moods like the north sea. She makes better pancakes and apple pie than I do (and I'm no slouch in the kitchen).
In short, she's my daughter, and I love her beyond reason, and I'm so grateful that she chose to come into that little body that day so she could spend some time with us.
Oh, and she really, really hates spiders. We're working on that.
Just Show Up
One of the blogs I read everyday is by Seth Godin. He's the master of the short and sweet blog post that you will inevitably carry around with you all day, chewing on it like a piece of gum that refuses to lose it's flavor. (and he never seems to miss a day) Today's post is no exception. Here's the hook: "Your audacious life goals are fabulous. We're proud of you for having them. But it's possible that those goals are designed to distract you from the thing that's really frightening you--the shift in daily habits that would mean a re-invention of how you see yourself."
How often do we look for the big shift, the magic bullet, the life-changing experience that will mean everything after that is so much easier? Sometimes a catalyst is essential. This is what ritual is for, and always has been. But it doesn't mean that after you spend the three nights on the mountain without food or water, meet your spirit guides and find a flawless quartz crystal half buried in the dirt right where you were digging your fire pit that you go back home, flip on American Idol, open a beer and a bag Cheezits and expect your new life to walk through the door. It's about showing up. Every day. Even when it's boring or scary (and which do you prefer?). The rituals are there to sustain you when it gets hard, not to hand you a life on a platter. They help us mark milestones, they don't deliver them.
The good news is that we all get to make choices everyday. When we truly understand this, about every aspect of our lives, then each day becomes a little more interesting. Who do you want to be? What do you want from your time here? How will you create this? We all get feeling stuck sometimes, and that can be a cozy place to hang out because it means we don't have to do anything. Almost always there is something we can do to make a shift. We can make a plan, then make a list, then do the stuff on the list.
Me? Today I'm drinking water. (OK, I'm drinking water with some red juice in it because plain water, especially first thing in the morning, makes me nauseous) I don't drink enough water, and I'm going to change that and see what happens. See, it doesn't have to be earth-shattering. That's the point. Baby steps.
Pit Bulls, Rough Pasts and Storage Wars
A lot of folks have issues with pit bulls because they feel that through years of being trained to fight, they have a genetic predisposition in that direction. I tend to lean more in the direction of what the owner is like, rather than focusing on the breed of dog, but I understand the idea behind the concern. This gets sticky when you apply it to humans though. So sticky in fact that I have written and erased the same sentence three times now, so I'll move on in a different direction. Let's just say a kind hand and a gentle heart can be a much needed balm to human and beast alike. I've had many folks on my table who are working through past trauma. It gets stored up until there's no where for it to go, then it starts to leak. This is usually when the trouble starts. Sometimes when we release some of this stored trauma it can feel great, (other times it can feel...not so great, but it's still essential) and once the pressure valve has been opened, and the initial burst gets moved, the rest can escape at a pace that feels more manageable.
You know those TV shows where people bid on abandoned storage units, gambling they will find treasure, or at least make a meager profit? Sometimes our bodies are like this. We keep packing things in that we don't want to deal with, and then sometimes we abandon it. But the "stuff" doesn't go away. Sooner or later we need to open the locker. The first step is admitting to ourselves that this place exists, and that we still have the key, deep down in our pocket with the 23 cents, the ball of lint and the guitar pick.
* The photo of the sweet fur pig is Bruno, he's the dear dog of good friends and the sweetest boy ever, this is a smile, not a snarl.
What Does Your Church Look Like?
It's Sunday, and it got me thinking about church. When I was a kid we went to church most Sundays, it was not optional. When my brother and I reached an age where we could more effectively advocate for ourselves, my mother finally gave up the fight and then she stopped going too. Something was obviously missing for us. I've spent a great deal of time in my adult life working through what spirituality means to me. I don't necessarily think that this is the place to go into that, but I wanted to suggest that no matter what labels we place on it, we all experience moments of transcendence. I think we love to over think these things. We analyze and speculate and pick apart until the magic is lost in the search for...What? When we let go of the need to label and pin down an experience, we open ourselves to be more fully moved. When we release the inner voice that is already trying to figure out how to relate the tale, we can be more fully in the moment. This is where the magic lives. It's the synergy between the experience itself and how we are perceiving it. How we are moving within it. Whether it's a piece of music, the touch of another human or animal, the sight of something in nature that spellbinds us, or the scent of something long forgotten.
This is our Grace, and it can be fleeting, but it is available in the most mundane things when we choose to be fully present with it.
This is what my church looks like, what about yours?
Holding Space
What do you do when a client has an emotional and/or physical release? I'm new to massage, but I have five years of experience working with clients on my table, mostly with Reiki and Shamanic healing work. I have had many clients break down emotionally during a session, and a few who have had panic/anxiety attack reaction as well. The strength and beauty in our work is our ability to create a safe environment. A place where the client's body, as well as their mind, feels like it's OK to let down. Sometimes it can be hard to know what your client needs when they are in the throes of an emotional release. Often, at least for the client, when this happens it can be unexpected and scary and what we need to do to help with that will vary with the situation. As body workers we are nurturing by design, we have good instincts around this. Trust it, this is what you are here for. One of the most important things that I teach my Reiki students is not to go into that anxiety place with the client. Recognize that their bodies are moving trauma that has been with them a long time and allow them to release it how they need to. Don't rush it. Understanding that your client is not having a medical emergency is essential. Anyone who works in this way needs to have at least basic first aid training so they can recognize the signs of an actual medical emergency. This will allow you to remain calm and grounded so you can hold the space your client needs.
Sometimes the client will be understandably scared by the experience, they might be crying, hyperventilating, dizzy, their limbs might be tingling. Reassure them that this will pass. Try to get them to slow their breathing. If it's appropriate place your hand (or their own) on their belly and ask them to breathe into it. Placing the other hand under them, sandwiching their abdomen, is often helpful. Try to get them back into their bodies. Water and a bite or two of something sweet can help to regulate their blood sugar. (see, candy and health care CAN coexist!) Usually keeping physical contact in some way helps, but again using your instincts is the best course of action. Watch their body language to see what they need. At the end of the session, be sure to have a conversation about this. reassure them that this is a positive thing. Our bodies have an incredible ability to protect us from trauma, we can store hurt away in places that can keep us safe and allow us to move on with our lives. Sooner or later though, some of that needs to move. Creating an environment where this can happen is a gift to your client, and an amazingly humbling experience for the practitioner. Going after this kind of reaction should never be the goal (unless you are specifically doing somato-emotional release work) but we should all be able to hold a clear, strong and loving space for this work when it occurs.