An "Awkward" Age?
My daughter received the first phase of her orthodontia adventure last week. She had one apparatus placed on her lower teeth, a lip bumper. It's a kind of an internal face mask that makes her look like she's taken up chewing tobacco, minus the spitting. On the top teeth she has a more medieval kind of thing that we need to crank on every other day. Like a tiny torture rack for her mouth. My wife and I were commenting the other day on the unfairness of taking a human at the most baffling and uncomfortable possible age, a time when just being in your body feels like a betrayal of some sort, and then inserting items in your mouth that hurt, make you talk funny, and prevent you from eating all of the most fun foods.
She's been a rock star through this. She couldn't eat solid food for three days, she came down with a nasty head cold the day this work got done, all in all it was a miserable week. One of the things I admire most about my daughter is her ability to just put her head down and move through something unpleasant. She is the more fearful of our two girls, the least likely to choose to do something she hasn't done before, the one that hangs at the back of the pack. And yet, when a situation is thrust upon her, when there is no choice to be made, she just sucks it up and keeps on swimming. Among other things, this makes her an exceptional traveling companion. She'll get quiet, almost to the point of disappearing, but she's with you and she stays with you until you come out the other side. I like that.
Sometimes you see things in your kids that make you feel like they're gonna be OK. For me it's not so much grades in school or sports trophies. It's major personality traits, and habits that seem like they have been solidly woven into the fabric of who they are. In her case these include an addiction to reading, a keen eye for the weirdness of what we as a society have chosen to deem "normal", and the ability to just go deep and wait out a difficult moment. Maybe I had something to do with this, maybe it's just who she is. It doesn't matter to me at all how these things came to make up a part of her. It just makes me smile to see it.
I'm proud and delighted to have kids that I actually like as human beings. Real individual people that I would most likely choose to hang out with, even of they weren't my kids. They say it's an "awkward age". I disagree. I think it's our own discomfort with ourselves that feels awkward. The deeper our comfort level with our own bodies, past traumas, present dramas and future prospects, the less awkward this age group feels to us. They have great things to teach us, if we can be brave enough to take on the lesson.
The War Hammer and the Cup of Tea
New Year's Eve has long stopped being an opportunity to party all night long for me. I don't think I've purposely seen a midnight in 12 years. ( As I said to a friend recently regarding the midnight hour, "If no one in the house is throwing up, I'm not awake") The last one I remember was the totally underwhelming Y2K thing. My partner Anna was on the couch, two weeks away from giving birth to our first daughter Maya. She had been told in no uncertain terms to stay down, bed rest, keep that baby in. So a friend of ours and I went outside to build a little fire to welcome in the new year and came disturbing close to burning the house down. (did you know that garden hoses when left outside in the winter become non-functional? True.) Anyway, the house didn't burn, Maya was born 17 days later, and to my knowledge no planes dropped from the sky due to computer error. January 1, 2000 came right on schedule with hangovers, sunrises, love won, love lost, and all the rest.
Fast forward thirteen years later and we have seemingly dodged another apocalyptic bullet. So what's next? I'm a firm believer in new days. We all need them, and sometimes the big ones on the calendar just aren't where and when we need them. New year's day is a great opportunity to take stock, and you have lots of company. Everyone is doing it. It's the first day of the rest of your life! Let's get the healing done! Let's lose the weight, the bad habits, the negativity, (along with the sweaters we received under the tree that we will never wear). We'll get to that just after we sober up and finish off the goodies we made last night. After all, it wouldn't do to waste them.
I have a suggestion. Rather than confronting yourself once a year with the War Hammer of Judgement, wielded in a two-fisted grip, try checking in more often with a cup of tea and a lot more compassion. Try making small changes by paying closer attention to the myriad of choices you make each day. There is value in the Large-Scale Revue. Sometimes it comes on a day like today, with lots of company. It's been stalking you since November. You knew it was coming for you. Other times it sneaks up on you. Maybe you find yourself alone in the wee hours of the morning surveying what just yesterday seemed to be a not-perfect-but-acceptable life, and now looks like a village in ruin. Homes burned out, the well poisoned, the horses let out of the barn.
Ugh.
OK, remember this is the Large-Scale Revue, this one can hurt sometimes, then again, maybe you see the good. Maybe you have worked hard and made some really great decisions this year, maybe you can be proud of who you are and where you're at. If so, good for you, carry on, you rock! If not, be gentle. Make the tea, have a seat, take a really deep breath. Let the lessons come without judgement, it's not easy, but it's possible, and it's a lot more constructive. Bring it back to the small stuff. We're told these are the things not to sweat. BUT, that doesn't mean they are not important. I would argue that the small decisions we make each day is what will make or break us by the end of the year. making huge changes can feel great, but they seldom stick. Small changes aren't sexy, they don't make for great conversation, and they can be harder in some ways to track. But they have the potential to change your life in a much more dramatic, positive and meaningful way than jumping out of a plane or deciding that you really aren't too old to try peyote. (you are, by the way) When you wake up the next day from making that huge decision, you're still the person you were yesterday, and keeping that giant ball of energy moving in front of you can take a lot out of you.
More often than not, change happens intentionally and in small pieces. Tea is optional, cookies help too. And you can do it every day.
Losing Track
Sometimes we hurt others. That's part of being human. Sometimes we do this intentionally, other times it's totally unforeseen. Then there are the times that we lose ourselves. It happens slowly, gradually, so we might not even notice if we aren't paying close attention. It's the paying attention part that really matters here. When we stop checking in about who we are and how we are conducting ourselves, we leave ourselves open, and not necessarily in a good way. We can start telling ourselves stories about what's not working for us. About who's fault that is, and about how it might be better if some of the other people in our lives were just a little different. When you stop hearing yourself in these stories. When how you might take responsibility for your own happiness is curiously absent, that's when you need to pay very close attention. The best and most dangerous thing about the human mind is our ability to believe what we keep saying to ourselves. This can be very beneficial. It can help us to shift into a healthier, happier place. To motivate, to move on after trauma, to inspire. It can also cause us to lose track of what is truly important. Be careful about the stories you tell yourself, check in with people in your lives that you trust, and more than one or two. If you consistently hear from them that these stories are true and helpful, then take them to heart, allow them to fill you up. If you hear caution, if you hear that these stories seem divergent from who they know you to be, or not in the best interest of you and the one's you love, then listen to that. See what's missing. Dig deep, then dig deeper. The life you save could be your own.
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.
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.
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.