The White Light Blob

If you read this, try to imagine me telling it from memory, standing on stage in front a mike, robed in stage lights, to a standing-room-only crowd, hoping my years of stage performance cover up my profound nervousness. Who wants to stand up and get a slice of their life exposed to a lot of people, most of whom have known you for years and think they know you better than that? Well, me, apparently, and six others of us.

Part of the reason it was SRO was because Jason Bannister has done a tremendous job of revitalizing our Belfast-area tradition of thespianial excellence. This was a Midcoast Actors’ Studio fundraiser and word’s gone out: they do good stuff.

The other reason there were no places to sit is that it was billed at a night of “local luminaries” (1 of which was me, ha!) and so everyone was keen on hearing what John Ford, Andy O’Brien, GW Martin, Jenny Tibbetts, Aynne Ames and Charlie Dufour had to say.

This is, more or less, the story I told this past Saturday night down in The Fallout Shelter stage area of Waterfall Arts in Belfast, Maine.

Hope you enjoy it.

***

Sometimes you have something happen to you once. Once.
And it changes the way you live your life everafter.

It’s the late 1990s. I’m living and working in the Boston area, desperately attempting a career change — in my mid-20s — after a hopelessly misguided foray into technical writing. It was possible, then, to have a little technical know-how, and be unafraid of learning HTML, and get an obscenely high-paying job. I had one of those obscenely high-paying jobs, and I was miserable. I was bored, sitting in a cubicle all day in front of a computer screen.

And not only was I bored, I was incredibly inept, and rapidly becoming more so, as everyone around me was keeping pace with all the new computer languages that were to be learned, practically daily, and I wasn’t. I had a choice: go to back to school and learn computer languages or Do Something Else. So, much to the surprise of myself and everyone who knew me at the time, I decided to go to massage therapy school.

So I was working full-time and going to school on weekends and weeknights, and I was in my final semester at the Muscular Therapy Institute in Cambridge, Mass. And they were offering internships – go work in a professional’s office, you know? And so I was like: yeah. Good. I’ll do this too. Because, you know, I was already tired? And wanted to find out what being more tired would feel like.

I had my internship with Marilyn <not her real name, I just couldn’t remember what her real name was!> at an OB/GYN clinic in Haverhill, Mass. She was everything I wanted to be. She was it. She came to work every day? With a coif. I mean a hairstyle.

Her outfits were totally professional, maybe just a touch over-the-top. I recall gold buttons, some brocade. And she was the only massage therapist I had ever known up to that point, or ever since, to wear heels to do massage.

She had the respect of her peers, which were mostly doctors and nurses, and her practice was full. No empty moments, really. I wanted to be as much like her as I could be.

My internship? Remember I was a student, not licensed, so I really couldn’t touch anyone at this point, least of all her clients, and so…I observed. I stood, and observed. If you think it’s relaxing to get a massage? Try standing in a corner of a room — it was a small office, there was no place for me to sit, really — watching someone receive work, and it’s warm and darkened and there’s a fountain going and music and happy sleepy sounds from the client. I did a lot of this <nodding off>. But I did manage to learn stuff.

She was also a Reiki practitioner.

Now. I had a very sniffy relationship with energy work, Reiki in particular. In my final semester, we had a Modalities class, study of various other techniques (besides massage therapy) that could be incorporated into and referred to from a successful massage therapy practice. Professionals would come in from their respective fields, talk about their work and have all of us do a little hands-on.

By and large, most of these techniques were more energetic in nature: Polarity Therapy, Craniosacral therapy, Zero Balancing, Therapeutic Touch… Reiki. And my classmates would be putting their hands on each other, and feeling pulses and seeing colors and sensing auras and whatnot, and I wasn’t seeing anything, I wasn’t feeling anything. I was not accustomed to being a failure at anything — except my job! — so this class made me feel like I was “failing” energy. And it just made me mad.

So I was hoping that in my internship with Marilyn? We could just neatly circumvent Reiki: focus on business practice, how to communicate with clients, that kind of thing.

Until one day. We had a little time: she looked around, was between clients, looked at me, I wasn’t doing anything, so she said, “Hmmm…let’s see…we’ve got a little time…would you like some work? What shall we do…how about Reiki?”

And I thought to myself, “How about not?” But then! I thought again, “Wait…wait! This is your chance…to LIE DOWN. Maybe take a nap. Say yes, dummy! Say yes!”

So I did, I said “yeah sure” and finally got to lie down on the table I’d been watching her clients enjoy so much.

In Reiki you usually receive on a massage table — about the size of a twin bed, smaller than that — you are fully clothed, there is no disrobing for Reiki, and the practitioner places his/her hands on you in various positions – here <top of head>, here <upper chest>, here <lower abdomen> and so on.

So I was lying there and she began the session, as you do…putting her hands on my head, my upper chest…a few more other places…and then she went around to my feet, cupped my heels in her palms, and held them.

The first thing I noticed? That completely wrested me from my somnolence? Was that time suddenly. Slowed. Down. It was just like in the movies, when things go to slow-mo? It was like this <makes gesture and a noise> but without the noise. Um – that in and of itself put me on sudden high alert. What was going on?? I looked up at Marilyn from where I was on the table.

The second thing was: in that moment, in the warm darkened quiet, I saw a 2-ft wall of white light come out from behind her shoulders, pour down over her arms, through her hands, and go shooting up into my body.

Now. The 2-ft wall. It was — I say it was a wall. It moved through me like a wall – wait a minute. That doesn’t make any sense. How does something move through you like a wall? Never mind. It was more like a blob, a wave, it was – a white light blob.

It had edges. It had mass. And was capable of producing its own speed, since when it got to me it suddenly moved very fast.

The white light? Was like – you know those days when you’re looking at the sun – not directly at the sun, bad for you – right around its edges? The way the sunlight looks? It had that quality and intensity.

And its effect on me? When it hit me? You know what it’s like to touch an electric fence? It was like that! Only a lot more enjoyable. It was like being electrified, or set on fire. I felt it in every cell, all through me.

It passed through me but it was also passing over me, in fact for the brief nanosecond it went up through my head I saw nothing but It, the white light, in my eyes, so my vision was filled with it briefly.

I was visited upon. It was checking me out!

And then suddenly time snapped back into place. Marilyn was standing there working as she had been. Everything was back to normal. Except for me. I was lying there, doing this for a while <flops about>.

And I when I’d recovered, I whispered to her, “What was that?”

“What?” she said.

“What just happened,” I gasped.

“What just happened?” she asked.

I tried to explain it and couldn’t really and she just shrugged a little and said kindly, “Oh it’s probably just a little Reiki,” and kept going with the session.

I had class that night. And in that class were The Girls…you know, the girls in class…the ones you never get along with, they really have annoyed you for all of school and you also have annoyed them. Yeah, massage therapy school can be like that, people, it’s not all hearts and stars, trust me.

Anyway, this one girl did something that bothered me. But, instead of just sitting there and kind of making faces to myself, I spoke up. I said something to her. Which surprised me, totally. And, what I expected to have happen happened, she lit into me. And while this was going on, I was surprised again: I did not care.

On the way driving home that night, I remember thinking to myself and trying to put 2 and 2 together: “I had this experience today. Me, who never feels or sees anything. And, then I spoke up in class, and I felt confident. Wow… there’s gotta be something to this Reiki thing. I gotta learn more about this.”

So I did. As soon as I graduated from massage school, I moved to Maine, and started my Reiki training as soon as I could. I went all the way up to the master level. And I have had amazing experiences from learning Reiki! And people have reported amazing things from my work with them.

I’ve become part of the incredible Reiki, healing community that is in this area. You have no idea, how blessed we are. Really you don’t. Ask me about it, later.

And I also do Reiki when I give massage therapy…? You know I don’t have a valve in the back of my head, that says “yeeeeess this person gets Reiki noooooo this person doesn’t,” it just flows. It’s my way of working. And clients have commented over the years, “So. Your massage is like none that I’ve had. What is that thing? You’re doing?”

And I usually shrug a little and say, “Oh, it’s just a little Reiki.”

But you know, I don’t think that’s a fair assessment really. As I’ve considered it: that white light blob. It was – impersonal. Inhuman. It has. No. Name.

It belongs to no one.

It comes from nowhere.

And, therefore, I believe, it belongs to everyone. And is right here.

Thank you.

Getting Behind Your Work

As practitioners it serves us to remember there are two people in the room when we’re working who deserve loving-kindness and careful consideration: the client, and ourselves. When we push, we are hurting someone: it might be the client, but I would wager it’s our own dear person that suffers too.
The most helpful idea that I’ve come across to work creatively with this notion of relentless prevailing upon a client – and dialing it down, if not completely off – is “Get behind your work.” I learned it from David Lauterstein during a Deep Massage workshop this past autumn, and I think David might have learned it from Fritz Smith, founder of Zero Balancing.
My Deep Massage Workshop with David Lauterstein came at a pivotal moment this past year, when I had one of the busiest summers of my life. Seeing four to five clients four days a week, I was depleted, and less apt to know where I ended and where my client began. I rely heavily on my Reiki practice to get me through multiple sessions relatively unscathed, energetically, but I knew my body was losing its poise as I labored.
DeepMassageBookimageThis was my first experience with “Get behind your work”: during David’s workshop, we were all engrossed in hands-on learning, seated, perhaps practicing “Making Rainbows” along the ITB. I was hoping for help, and could sense David and Susan Tesar, his teaching assistant (and fellow Mainer/oncology massage/MT) moving around the room behind me.David stepped over to me. I waited, anxiously, to hear or see how he would improve my work.

Rather, I felt it: he gently put his hands on my shoulders, and moved my torso back over my hips. He then placed his hands on the top of my head (not unlike the way one receives a blessing from a pastor or the pope!) and moved my head into alignment with my shoulders.

My body dropped into itself; my scapulas plopped neatly back into their pockets inside my back; my arms went from locked and constricted across my chest and pushing, to rounded and open, allowing my chest to expand and for me to take a deep breath, naturally. All this, and I hadn’t broken hand contact with my client.

“Relax!” David said. I still laugh out loud, remembering the way he said this one word to me: part encouragement, part command, with a touch of: exasperated humor? Is that what I detected? Whatever it was, it was a sea change for me.

As I’ve been reading David’s “The Deep Massage Book,” studying my notes from class and bringing myself back to that moment, again and again, while practicing with clients, my somatic “ah-ha!” from David’s simple correction has formed into some words for me. Here’s what I’ve learned so far from this profound teaching, and would love to know others’ experience with it as well.

Through posture – in lunge, or seated – your arms are kept in front of your body and your hands are at some distance from the rest of your person, as you engage your client. You’re not arched away from your hands, but you’re not crammed in over top of them either: there is fluidity and strength flowing between you and your hands, through the soft angles of your arms, and the openness of your literal and energetic heart.

The temptation, as I see it, is effort. We often associate real effort with shoving ourselves over our client in an attempt to give them the pressure we think they want, or help both of us feel like Something Is Happening. (If they can hear you breathing heavily, it’s deep tissue!)
Rather, we ask our clients to meet us where our hands are: no more, no less. Deep Massage is not an altar call: it’s a polite knock on the door. “Attraction, not promotion,” is one of the Traditions of the Alcoholics Anonymous program: it’s true for us, too.
“I like that imagery,” said Susan, as she and I exchanged emails on the topic.”A gathering of y’self deeply through your heart, then meeting with your whole self through your hand-heart! The client then has an invitation to meet there with as much as they can.”

There’s another way of looking at this, where one considers the many meanings of “get behind.” There’s the physicality of it, but there’s also the emotional/relational aspect that can’t be ignored. What do we mean when we say we “get behind’ an individual, or an organization? Why, it means we support them. We believe in them. We are behind them, all the way.

In the same way, we get behind our work: we trust ourselves. This is sorely needed, especially if we feel betrayed or disappointed in any way by our practice: by the lack of income it has generated for us, or the panic we feel at not being sure we’re making a difference for our clients, or feeling inadequate when others seem to be doing better work or have a busier schedule…any time, basically, we’re consumed by doubt and push, to counteract our fears.
   Stepping back from your work – getting behind your work, with your body – is a chance for you to breathe, remember who you are, and develop faith in what’s happening. The only place it’s happening is under your hands. That’s a good, safe place to put your attention: where the work actually is. (“Working at interface” is the term I believe Zero Balance practitioners use.) You can respond to clients spontaneously, because you’re already right there.
   One of the most beautiful things about Deep Massage is how much respect it has for you as a practitioner. Truly, you are as valued as your client, as you learn the techniques and philosophy behind it. It practically feels self-indulgent, except you realize that by bearing in mind your own self while working, you truly have your client’s best interests at heart.
How relaxing is THAT?!
This blog was part two, of sorts, from the previous: “Love as technique

Love as technique

I had an alarming phenomenon visit me while I was in massage therapy school, during student clinic. In even those rigorously managed and strict environs – and I in my white monogrammed polo, khaki pants, hair pinned back and clipboard in hand – it arrived with enough frequency that I started to wonder if there was something wrong with me.

Gradually, with complete strangers from the Cambridge area, when I actually relaxed for a few brief moments, I felt love. Not a tame, generalized sensation of general bonhomie and good will towards this person who willingly let my novice, nervous hands knead their frame, but startlingly strong, unmistakeable love: breath-taking and untoward.

I remember one moment in particular when I needed to take my hands off my client and shake my head a few times, just to snap out of it, if I could. Didn’t work. I got back into my routine, bearing up under the strain, cross from being harassed, and hoping eventually it would go away.

Nearly 15 years and countless massages later, I got my wish. The stress of setting up my practice a few times, until it took; worrying about how I was going to get enough clients in this small town on the north coast of Maine, and then, once getting them, worrying how I was going to have the strength to see them all; taking the ardent work of my hands and turning it into a reliable commodity, have all worked that blazing affection right out of me. I’ll admit it. I’ve been afraid, in recent years, of burning out.

Enter continuing education: through conversation, books, workshops, social networking and good old-fashioned questioning. Where did that messy, divine, fiery tenderness go? Could I retrieve it from some shunted layer, deep within?

My last year of school, one of the faculty at the Muscular Therapy Institute – Erika Baern – had a few massages from me. I revered her, but she seemed very professional, almost to the point of being grim, so I reined in my adoration as best I could, trying to be quiet in her presence and learn from her by osmosis.

I wasn’t sure I had made any impression on her, even though I deeply wished I had. But in the final week of school I received a bound packet of articles from her in my student mailbox. “Kristen: I think you should read these. Erika.” This was the encouragement I had been looking for, and my first introduction to David Lauterstein.

David Lauterstein at a Deep Massage workshop in Oct. 2013

David Lauterstein at a Deep Massage workshop in Oct. 2013

David is a educator, practitioner, author, writer and musician. He was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 2011, is co-founder of The Lauterstein-Conway School of Massage in Austin, Texas, and published “The Deep Massage Book” in 2012.

He has an international teaching schedule, offering Deep Massage workshops, and came out with (one of my favorite) music CDs, “Roots and Branches,” of his acoustic guitar music played live in the studio alongside massage being performed – “so we would have a music that actually arose from massage itself.” he says on the TLC site.  He also has a killer FaceBook page: Deep Massage Book.

Each one of us deserves to have teachers in our lives who by their mere presence  are instructive and nurturing; who meet us where we are, whether total newbie or tired pro; who inspire devotion through a terrific combination of deep insight, concise correction and weird humor. David has been one such for me.

The reason I locked in on his writing from the get-go is his inclusion and defense of the energetic components of massage therapy. He teaches Zero Balancing and this informs Deep Massage; I am a Reiki Master/practitioner, so our frequencies hum on the same pitch when it comes to looking at our clients through more than one lens (a prism is more like it).

It’s been a long time since student clinic, but because of reading Lauterstein’s work (I also highly – highly! – recommend his “Putting the Soul Back in the Body“) I’ve been reassured there was a place for that strong ardor, and my line of work was the perfect place to feel it.

What I’ve learned from continued study with Lauterstein (and also Tracy Walton‘s oncology massage writing and training):  that what we sense in session may be just important to what we do: that who we are as a practitioner has everything to do with how the client experiences the success (or failure) of being “met”: that while we must master techniques, understand physiology, identify pathologies and know anatomy, the openness of our heart – the tenderness and love we feel for our client – is where our true power lies.

In my next blog post I will describe my understanding of the phrase “Get behind your work,” which I got from my most recent workshop with David, and one that I see as both command and consolation.

What do we pray for?…Finally, alchemy. It is NOT up to you. I wish it was, but it’s not…the body contains all of the healing substances it needs already. The person contains all the healing substances it needs, they just don’t notice it. We are there to just help them become aware. I want people to realize they’re miraculous.
– paraphrased from David Lauterstein’s Deep Massage training at Down East School of Massage in Waldoboro, Maine.

Why The Kids are Alright

There’s this thing called a “Wellness Room” that some high schools offer. (We do, here in Belfast, Maine.) It’s for students and staff, run by volunteer professionals in a variety of modalities, to help reduce anxiety, stress, pain, illness, and provide a little education about somatics and self-care.

Do teens really need something like this? How stressed out are they, really?

Yes. And: quite. And: should you think otherwise, I invite you to take a trip down memory lane…way back…for some of you, way WAY back…to when you were a juvenile, and just: recall. I am gonna do that, too, right now, so we feel our old hearts soften like roasting potatoes.

1988: I was a pretty good student, with fine intentions, well-behaved mostly. At a certain point, though, my guileless interest in life got overrun by irritation with my parents, angst over the condition of the world, constant crushes and heartbreaks, and nothing but hot distaste for authority. Jaded, at the ripe old age of 17. OUT, I just wanted out.

My best friend told me the school nurse would let you rest on her cot, if you needed it. I tried my luck during study hall. Sure enough: when the nurse asked me, “Why are you here?” and I said, “Oh, I, um, well. You know.” – putting on my best distressed yet glum look – she sighed and said, “Well, do you want to just lie down for a while and see if you feel better?”

Wherever this school nurse is now – she worked at Christopher Dock Mennonite High School in Lansdale PA in the 1980s – I wish I could find her, kiss her hands (if she’d let me), and thank her as profusely as I could without making her feel weird. Because she saved me. Nine times out of ten, if I was going to see her, I really felt like I was coming apart at the seams.

I turned out okay, but it was her and other key adults in my life who made the difference for me: who had the courage to look beyond my posturing or sassiness and encouraged the struggling spirit within.

Guidance Counselor RoAnn Blood and I standing outside the BAHS Wellness Room, shortly after it opened in April 2012

Guidance Counselor RoAnn Blood and I outside the BAHS Wellness Room, shortly after it opened, April ’12

Our Belfast Area High School Wellness Room is a haven, a safety zone for the distressed, be they student or staff. In the British sci-fi classic, “Dr. Who,” the Doctor only endures his 5th regeneration in the TARDIS’s Zero Room: a place cut off from the rest of the universe, meant for recuperation. That’s what our wellness room is like.

We have professional practitioners – massage therapy, Reiki, chiropractic, etc – who volunteer their time and expertise to the aid of headache, pain, sports injury, total exhaustion, anxiety. With signed parental permission, kids can drop in for 15-20 minute sessions during free time.

(Staff can come in any time they want, if they can get away. “Ten minutes is better than no minutes!” I call after them, after they arise from the table, smiling and blissful, grab a quick drink of water and scurry down the hall. “See you in a few weeks!”)

I want every teenager to have a chance to catch their breath, starting with the ones where I live. I needed it when I was their age, and Lord knows they need and deserve it now. I don’t have kids of my own (out of choice: not into babies) so maybe that’s one reason it’s easier for me to see them as people, not problems.

The kids are alright because they are going to be fine soon enough. “Just make it through the next four years,” I encourage them, if they drop in all hung-about in the face or in a frenzied lather. “It gets better. I promise you.”

They give me the hairy eyeball. “No really,” I insist. “Hang in there. If you can get through this, you can get through anything.”

The kids are alright because we have cultural amnesia. Go ahead and lament today’s teens all you like: that’s a loathsome, boring, favorite American past-time, and has been ever since girls first bobbed their hair and boys put on plus-fours; probably before that. Kids have been rotten for centuries, and have produced moderately successful generations regardless.

You remember? That horrible half-world between being an old child and a young adult? Everyone wants you to act responsibly and behave yourself, but no one feels ready to give you any power over your life. It would bring out the worst in anyone, especially one with turbulent hormones and a curfew. (If you don’t remember this, I don’t know that you really got to be a teenager, but congratulations anyway.)

The kids are alright because they are you: they are me. They are small versions of whoever will be running the world in fifteen, twenty years. I don’t have much faith in institutions, creeds, manifestos or trends, but I do have faith in people, and I have faith that these kids are going to do the best they can. They certainly are trying their best, right now.

I can’t help it: I am a massage therapist. I’m trained to love, and treasure the glowing heart, bright spirit, and incredible wonder of every human I touch. Regular massage therapy makes a difference for?…just about everybody. And even in 15-minute increments, for kids in between Science and Spanish class, it can mean the difference between recidivism and resilience, acting out or growing up.

To find out more about the Belfast Area H.S. Wellness Room, and the one that started it all – Camden Hills Regional H.S. Wellness Room – please check out the article that was written about both schools in the Bangor Metro magazine, March 2013 “School Serenity: Wellness Rooms at two area high schools are empowering students to speak up for their wellbeing.”

All The Warm Things

“Oh my God that’s amazing.” I was just beginning the session and my client spoke aloud. Was her effusive praise directed at my hands? My technique? The massage oil? Essential oils? The linens she was on, or the music I’d selected?

No, no, no, no, and no annnnnnd….no.

It was the warm towel I put on her feet.

“I know you think I come here for your massage,” said another client, with a bit of tongue-in-cheek. “But I don’t. I come for all the warm things.”

It’s important that we care about our career: our reputation, amongst our colleagues and the community; our sense of trajectory, in terms of improving our work, introducing new modalities as it seems appropriate; and re-marketing/re-branding ourselves so that we get a regular influx of new clients. (People still need to discover you for the first time, even if you’re doing what you’ve been doing forever.)

I have to say, however, that based on my nearly 15 years of experience as a massage therapist – and nearly 20 of receiving it on a semi-regular basis – the client doesn’t care about any of that. Take heed! The client wants to be warm! Cozy! Swaddled, if I may. “Burrito-ed” is how one of my friends puts it.

Not stuffy or sweltering, but…nestled. Tended.

Warm.

It’s November here in Maine. We know we’re going to be cold for a long stretch, at least until May. That’s where the warm towels come in.

If your landlord permits it, having lit candles in the room not only creates a feeling of warmth but in the winter adds (albeit microbits) of warmth. Plus it's just pretty.

If your landlord permits it, having lit candles in the room not only creates a feeling of warmth but also adds  (albeit microbits of) warmth. Plus it’s just pretty.

As a professional licensed massage therapist, I am many things to my clients. But the most basic service I give them all is feeling taken care of. Here, modern MTs might balk at the idea, with their arsenal of training, experience and perhaps the need to justify themselves (the phrase “bow and scrape” comes to mind) before the almighty healthcare industry.

“I have charts! Books! Formulas! Techniques! Proof! Certificates of Mastery!”

Keep up on that stuff, but remember: clients don’t care. They want to feel like you care about them, not your agenda for them. (Reminder: you do care about them. That’s why you’re a massage therapist.)

Okay, so: right now, an easy way to convey your kind regard for their every need is to make sure they are WARM. (And please don’t assume this post is only for those of us in the 44.4 latitude: if you work in air conditioning, warmth is still an important part of your practice.)

Ways you can help:

Ask. During the intake. “How does the temperature in the room feel?”
“When you’re relaxing on the table, do you find you’re on the warm side or the chilly side?” Most people who suffer from being chilly will let you know.

At the beginning of the session: “Are you warm enough?”
I hear, often, “Yes, I am cozy, but my feet are still cold.” On goes the hot towel!

Feel. I like to do compressions down legs and feet, even if I’m starting the massage with neck and back, not only for the client to feel a full sense of themselves from the get-go, but also to notice what’s cold and remedy it right away. Most people can’t relax if they’re cold, and your work is in vain if they’re not relaxing.

Also, if you’re massaging and you suddenly feel or see goosebumps, the client may be getting chilled. Find out.

Plan. What do you have in your office to help a client warm up? Here’s what I got: a landlord who (thankfully) lets me set the thermostat at 70, a table warmer, flannel linens and fleecy blanket, essential oils that are warming in nature, and a crockpot stuffed with towels that I heat up and place strategically: on cold feet, cold hands, on the back after I’ve massaged it, rolled up under the neck after I’ve worked there. What you got?

(Also in deep winter I do heated socks.)

(And quite honestly I do not like those hot towel cabinets. Moist heat becomes moist cold and nobody likes cold wet on their skin. Stick to DRY heat, I say. Unless you use hot stones! I bet you do! Those are GREAT. I wish I had a sink in my office bathroom that I could clean them in, otherwise I would have some.)

I’ve also heard heating pads, stand-alone ceramic room heaters, and Thermaphore products work well.

Consider. Of course I have been talking physical warmth here, but there is a deeper warmth that clients really respond to. For some practitioners this takes time to develop, and for others it just needs kindling.

The energy of compassion and the intention for healing is warming. When I practice Reiki, or consider the affection I feel for my client, or drop into that blessed meditative quiet of a session, my hands get hot, almost directly in the palms. “Did you heat up your hands in the crockpot? They’re so warm!” some clients have said to me.

When a client comes in and I listen carefully, my heart energy expands and what I say, how I behave, is infused with genuine care (or at the very least that is my goal)…which the client experiences as…warmth.

Enveloping a client in warmth is always a good idea, whether physical, emotional or spiritual.

(Unless they’re having a hot flash! In which case, life in wintry Maine is ideal: I just open a window.)

“Mise en place” – photo essay

It’s a French phrase, something I learned from Lucky Peach in their “The Cooks & Chefs Issue,” meaning “putting in place.” From professional kitchen jargon, it refers to how one sets up their space to do the prepping, baking and cooking needed during one’s shift.

In the Lucky Peach Spring 2012 edition, a chef was interviewed and asked, when are you having a good day? “When the mise en place is good,” he replied, along with a few other things.

When are you having a bad day? He replied, when the mise en place is bad, and then details.

I recently posted on my experience as a server in a local, popular restaurant. In reflecting on how being a waitress helped me become a better massage therapist, I realized I have little “mise en place” all over my office: stations of aid, that help me do my job. When these are clean, organized, well-stocked and pleasing to the eye, my work goes well.

So here are some pictures of my office “mise en place.”

The Desk

The Oils, White Sage and Crockpot…for heating towels

The Desk

The Desk

The Reiki Altar

The Reiki Altar

Hanging in the Window, in direct line of sight when I'm seated at client's head

Hanging in the Window, in direct line of sight when I’m seated at client’s head

The Client Folder

The Client Folder

The table, with summer spread. (not a work station, so much, as the place of work itself....like a gas range in a kitchen)

The table, with summer spread. (more the place of work itself, like a gas range in a kitchen)

What you just read is not my fault. It’s because my friend, colleague, co-conspirator and pants kicker Rowan Blaisdell talked me into it, and also, because I cannot resist a write-off: 31 Posts in 31 Days August Blog Challenge, Business Blogging School. Caution snuffed, perfectionism cast off like a smelly cloak: this is blog #19.

Bad Reiki.2

( Cont. from Bad Reiki.1) …Pardon me already, for sounding angry in this installment. Like I said, I have a history with people who think they can save me or that I need to be saved. What I’m tapping into is a lot of my own stuff, but maybe there’s something here that could/should be said, and perhaps it will resonate with you as well.

People who lay their hands on someone and feel capable of removing someone else’s toxicity are either on the mark – which I utterly and completely accept – or totally crackers, with an overweening sense of self and their healing powers, and shouldn’t be making people feel diseased, malformed or deficient without loving them into wholeness before they leave that practitioner’s room.

It is unconscionable, in my feeling, for a Reiki practitioner to tell someone they have blocked chakras, have evils spirits following them, or have dark matter in their aura (all thing I’ve had Reiki clients tell me that other practitioners told them they had) without then being accountable to that person for their healing, in a loving respectful way, so they don’t walk around feeling powerless and woeful in their own lives. Reiki should make people come to a full realization of their own wholeness, their goodness and strength, not corroborate the individual’s fears.

I’ve had some bad experiences from both Christian and Reiki healers who thought they could see or sense things in me they wanted to rid me of, either in the name of Jesus or through the awesome powers of their Reiki-ness. What infuriates me about this is the complete lack of human kindness and regard this connotes. There’s no respect for the person: how it might come across to them, how it might make them feel to be surprised with (or, in certain circumstances, have confirmed) how leprous they are. The practitioner cares more about Doing To the client, rather than Being With the client.

Are You SatisfiedAnd let me clear about what I mean by “Bad” – the energy behind both forms of healing are both 100% wonderful, pure. There is no such thing as “Bad Reiki” at all. But boy oh boy.  None of us are perfect, and dangle the carrot of power in front of any of us, we’ll make a lunge. Even if we try to make it all casual and stuff; a surreptitious lunge, perhaps, an off-the-cuff lunge. An “Oh I’m being a healer it’s all okay” lunge.

What makes Reiki “bad” is when it’s used to exploit weakness, betray good faith, create unhealthy dependency and in general makes it impossible for the person to think for themselves without that practitioner around, calling the shots for them and giving advice.

If someone is truly sick –  if someone is suffering, shrunken, beat down – they need deep reassurance and Love. In the presence of Love, what is misaligned? Aligns. What might not serve this person, WILL be cast aside.

Over and over and over again: the question is: what is the most loving thing I can do for this person? How simply, purely, kindly and respectfully can I give this person all the best healing energy they deserve in this moment?

When I was given my Reiki Master training from Lindsley Field in 2003, she started the class by telling us, in no uncertain terms, that becoming a Master was not a title of power, but one of servitude. “You are saying to the universe, ‘Here I am. Use me.’ It is the path of the Bodhisattva: one who, through compassion, does everything they can to save others.”

The greater, the farther we go, to help and serve others, the more humility we need and the more deference we should show to what pours through us. I am not the source of Reiki: I am a conduit. I seek to be the best damn conduit I can be, basically by getting myself and all my pride out of the damn way. Those who heal, in the name of whatever deity they choose, do it not on their own strength, but by making way for Something Greater to happen.

Let us truly heal by being our client’s companion, not their arbiter. We don’t know really know what someone needs. But we CAN make sure we are available, open, and ready to make it possible for them to have it in session. That’s Good Reiki. That’s good…anything.

What you just read is not my fault. It’s because my friend, colleague, co-conspirator and pants kicker Rowan Blaisdell talked me into it, and also, because I cannot resist a write-off: 31 Posts in 31 Days August Blog Challenge, Business Blogging School. Caution snuffed, perfectionism cast off like a smelly cloak: this is blog #4.