Is it best to specialize in one technique like Shiatsu or learn as many as
possible, (Shiatsu, Swedish, Sports, Medical etc.) and apply them to each patient
as needed?. Why was massage respected for years in Europe as a therapy and disdained
in this country until recently as foreplay for sex or a kind of mindless rubdown
that anyone could do? Why is massage still not used enough in hospitals and
nursing homes? How does a particular massage technique reflect the culture from
which it originated: Shiatsu from Japan, Swedish from Northern Europe, new age
techniques from New York and California? Examine the philosophy of the technique
by its leading practitioners and compare this to what you can read about the
culture. What are the sociological roots for new age therapies such as auric
cleansing? If given a choice, would you prefer auric cleansing or a strong,
deep massage? Next time you get a massage, record your immediate sensations
and feelings into a tape recorder.
Student Paulette Johnson-Haqq did a project on boundaries in massage therapy and this is her jpeg:
What happened at certain points during this session was that the sensation of my flesh was barely recognizable to me. It reminded me of when I got "Indian burns" as a kid. A kid would place his hands on my arms and roll them in opposing directions, twisting my flesh until it burned. Feeling my flesh move in unaccustomed directions was disorienting. It's like: "What's my flesh doing now and where are its boundaries? How large is my flesh?" It seems to expand where I though it stopped. At imes it seems vast. I feel like the rigging on a boat, my ropes let out swiftly.
He comes to my knees, working around them in concentric circles as if they were small volcanoes. He works around them until they feel slightly more independent. I feel a pop in the roof of my mouth. Later there is a deliciousness in feeling the full extension of my legs. My feet rest more fully on the ground along the axis through the big toe. I feel more supported, in comfortable contact with the ground. The least expected and most fantastic outcome of this session occurs when I stand. I feel the floor of my pelvis swing into a more horizontal position. It feels like a bas that allows my whole torso to stand straigher.
I remember the only time that I really got angry, really enraged with my father, I felt the anger like a blazing tunnel straight down the whole length of my body to the base of my pelvis. It was like someone had opened the door of a black cast iron stove and inside was a sheet of furious flame.
It sounds silly,
but it's a wonderful feeling to feel your pelvis beneath you, your legs swinging out, almost tentatively at
first, like a child's step, because there is newness in the movement, newness in the feeling, your knees relaxed,
open and somehow at ease. Your legs are different. What lightness and job there can be in just walking!
I had my third rolfing session last night. I think the rolfer may view the rolfee's body in sculptural terms because he said something like, "I want to create a line through your body," and when he worked on me, I had a sensation of somehow being "carved" into. There is pulling, like my flesh is being drawn away from the bone, like my flesh is gliding away from me. Flesh turned to water, flesh turned to wires. Throughout this stretching and burning was the sensation of being tickled. The sensations danced back and forth but I did try to refrain from laughing. One of the things that has come out of Rolfing is the limitation of language. These sensations are not easily translatable to words. Words can have that "box" quality while the experience is a very fluid, viscous thing. I try to be aware of what I'm feeling in my body as he works on me and I try to put the feelings into words. I've grappled with trying to figure out whether "pain" is more precise than "extreme discomfort," but sometimes there is such a gulf between the words and the experience that all I think is "wow." It reminded me of that sculpture where the goddess Diana is turned into a tree.
He works those pressure points along my shoulders. It's a strange sensation: electric, almost metallic. I can taste it. He works up my neck to my scalp. His hands are like various tools--a pick, a lathe, a razor. I felt so grateful to have my scalp "stretched." It felt luxurious, melting into my own flesh. He finishes working the center of my upper back and neck. It's as if he gathers up my flesh in folds or in pleats and then releases it. Flesh is like cloth. He then hooks his fingers under the base of my skull. My head is like a goddamned bowling ball. I can feel how really heavy it is, how solid it is. He just kind of "hangs" there with it. He repeats this several times. It's very delicious. My body loves the sensuality of it.
I walk back and forth while he watches me and I feel buoyed. He thinks my body seems lengthened. I don't know about that but my body feels light. There's an energy in it that seems to rise away form the floor. I feel kind of effervescent, like a bubble.