I really appreciated Dan Pink‘s depiction of his writing routine (the reminder that even best selling authors sometimes slog is helpful) and his demonstration of internalized and externalized perspectives (if you draw an ‘E’ on your forehead, is it legible to someone viewing you or to your own mind’s eye?) and its implication in one’s effectiveness at relating compassionately to others.

Lisa Cherney‘s exposure of the Niche Market Conspiracy and her concept of MICPD (Multiple Ideal Client Personality Disorder) helped reframe and clarify something I was already contemplating.  She’s quirky, which I love.  I think applying her ideas will help me help clients more effectively, and that’s always my objective.

Rachna Jain, though, was the speaker I was compelled to take copious notes while listening to.  From setting at least two parameters around any decision, to SEO tips, to giving each month only one personal goal and one professional goal, everything she said was useful and actionable, which is what’s currently speaking to me.  I pre-ordered her book and am looking forward to devouring it!

Many thanks to Jennifer Lee for assembling these and many other brilliant speakers, for hosting the summit, and for her own very helpful tools!

I’m currently putting polishing touches on exciting announcements of my own, and you can look forward to those in the next week or two!

Who inspires your growth, and how did you find them?  Feel free to share below!

I’ve been exploring that reaction in myself.  Some of you may be aware that one of my hobbies is modeling.  You may have seen underwater photographs of me shot by Rhea Pappas, for example, or pieces exhibited by other local photographers.  Those photos, though, were clothed.  My participation in the Nu Project, however, isn’t.

I started nude modeling when I was in school for bodywork, for several reasons.  Honestly, my first motivation was that I was a little bit jealous of a boyfriend’s modeling partners and wanted firsthand experience to tell me if that jealousy was rational or not.  (Totally not.  As an artist’s model, your primary focus is on not twitching or showing exhaustion, and very limited focus is on anything else happening in the room.)

I also wanted to challenge my own insecurities and find greater comfort in my own skin, and I did.  I had the epiphany, at the time, that if others saw me as a work of art, it was nothing short of arrogant to disagree with them.  Seeing myself through their eyes reshaped the image reflected back to me by my own.

Also, I quickly discovered that holding poses gave me an unexpected opportunity for studying musculature from the inside.  As my muscles fatigued, I could feel their shape, their insertions, and their bulk.  I began choosing poses not only with consideration to their duration (for example, any pose with unsupported arms gets hard to hold without shifting or sagging within about five minutes), but to the specific muscles being engaged.  I began choosing poses precisely to engage muscles I wanted to study, and as I did so,  my poses became more dynamic and more interesting to the artists.  I started getting messages on my phone from people hosting their own drawing cooperatives, and my range of groups grew.

The first class I ever modeled for was at an arts high school.  The instructor invited me to attend as a guest the week before I was scheduled, so that I could draw with the students and get a sense of the experience from the other side.  The atmosphere was professional and respectful — I later came to realize that their behavior was exemplary.  When I assumed the stage myself, I felt completely supported.  It happened to be Valentine’s Day, seven years ago.  In an uncertain relationship, myself, it was all the more impressive that, on such a day, these young people with all their hormones and youthful beauty were choosing to sit for several hours in an optional evening class and invest themselves so thoroughly in the work at hand.  During the short breaks, they graciously offered me fruit and tea and asked if I’d like to see their sketches so far.  The chalky pastel images on their paper pads were beautiful, and I was deeply grateful.

That class taught me so much about the hang-ups we tend to hold about ourselves, and how oblivious the rest of the world may be to them, or how trivial our perceived flaws may be, even if they are observed by others.  I sat in a forty-minute pose during another session there.  For the first ten to fifteen minutes, I contemplated how visible my cellulite patterns might be.  Time for such idle nonsense was a luxury.  No position is comfortable after about twenty minutes, without shifting.  After thirty, it became a struggle of transcending physical discomfort.  At thirty-five, it was all I could do to keep my leg from going into violent spasm from exhaustion.  At forty, we were allowed a break.  I peeked at a sketchbook.  The artist had spent all forty minutes studying only a few curls of hair around my face.  Curls.  Not cellulite.  It was profoundly humbling to realize how meanly I’d been thinking about my own body.

The Nu Project has provided me with an opportunity for similar exploration of my own embodiment.  Matt Blum, the photographer, contacted me over Model Mayhem, providing a link to the project and going over the basic structure of participation.  It felt right to participate, because both the objective of the project and the quality of the work resonated.  In March of 2011, we arranged a morning for him to come to my apartment to shoot.  I agreed not to put on any makeup or mess with my hair, to just occupy my space as I would unobserved.  A couple days before the shoot, I caught a strange virus that shows up as a small, bright rash on the chest — there’s one shot in the collection where it hasn’t been retouched at all.  I was more nervous and self-conscious than I normally would have been, but I didn’t cancel.  Matt put me at ease.  He’s tremendously kind, completely unthreatening, and unerringly professional.  I felt as I had with the high school artists, and the results are the same for me, if more public.

At the time, it felt wonderful to be seen without trying to project an image or having one stamped on top of me.  It felt freeing to embrace my unclothed body in a way that wasn’t sexualized or camouflaged.  I was going through weight fluctuation, having only a few months before returned to the US from living overseas, where I’d shed weight, and regaining it in places I wasn’t used to carrying it.  It’s really liberating to look back at these photos, to catch myself wincing at the lumps and bumps I hadn’t carefully stretched out of visibility in some unnatural pose, and to step back and appreciate the abandon I’d allowed myself, belly-laughing with delight, sharing a moment of joy and acceptance with another person.

I was contemplating this this morning, as there’s no hiding from it — I’ve been contacted by a cousin in Germany and friends in California and here in Minnesota, and it’s up on HuffPo now — and it occurred to me that this is precisely how I am allowed to see my clients all the time.  I am in an exceptionally privileged position, because I am trusted, as I trusted Matt, in supporting and observing individuals’ unclothed bodies in all their powerful, vulnerable, perfectly imperfect, confident, unadorned, unsexualized beauty.  What I want to say, why I want to share this, is that bodies are not shameful.

Bodies are not shameful.  Each of us has one.  That we will inhabit one body is the only constant in our lives.  Our relationship to it is always evolving and in flux, but it is always there.  We get to choose some things about that relationship.  We can choose how to nurture it, how to build it, how to support it, and how to rest it.  We choose how to cover it, and when.  We can choose how to learn about it, through internal self-study and through exploring external paradigms.  We choose our boundaries around it, and our responses when those boundaries are observed or breached.  Sometimes we internalize other people’s commentaries and fears, and end up obsessing over all the potential judgments that might be made.  There are seven billion people on the planet, all moving through their lives in bodies.  Embodied.  We are all in the potential position of judging and being judged, constantly.  I have chosen, and am reminded to keep choosing, to embrace my own embodiment, and to keep learning all I can about what that means.  What I find, though, so far, is that wrinkles and folds and scabs and scars are irrelevant to one’s naked beauty.  Soulful, unconditional beauty is naked, but that has nothing to do with the presence or absence of layers of cloth.  Confidence and vulnerability are partners that hold the seeds of the other within themselves and feed cyclically into one another, and it is they that reveal real beauty.

You are beautiful.  Powerfully, undeniably, radiantly beautiful.  It has nothing to do with your body, and everything.  I promise that this is true, and always has been, and always will.

My WIP knitting project #2. Coffee shop love.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything here, mostly because I’ve gotten comfortable in my self-care routine and haven’t done much exploring to find new practitioners.  Between chiropractic care and massage with amazing practitioners, I’ve been very well-supported.

I have, however, been exploring the surprisingly exciting world of fiber arts.  I taught myself to crochet this summer, learned to loom knit at one of my creativity gatherings at the Apiary, and taught myself to knit on circular needles four weeks ago.  I now salivate over posts from the Yarnery and Fuzzbee Yarns, deeply appreciating these moments of color saturation in the middle of a white and gray Minnesota winter.

How is this relevant to bodywork, though?  I’ve rediscovered the joy of learner’s mind.  I caught myself, a few weeks back, feeling frustrated and embarrassed that I didn’t know how to help someone.  I was at a loss of fresh approaches with which to address a familiar structural pattern that wasn’t responding quickly or predictably, and was surprised to notice how uncomfortable I was with that.  It got me thinking about the rigidity and risk-aversion that comes with the perception of expertise.  It’s an interesting thing, acknowledging the observation of skill and effectiveness while trying to avoid getting caught up in one’s own hype.  Negotiating the relationship between these two legitimate selves — the practitioner in whose hands clients can place their confidence, comfort, and vulnerability and the perpetual student/explorer whose greatest pleasure is discovering and observing things previously unknown — can be tricky.

Luckily for me, I decided impulsively to get crafty.  I started, as many do, with a how-to book and an awkward first visit to a yarn shop, feeling as out-of-place as I’m sure I looked.  (At the time, I described it as feeling like I was entering a temple with dirty shoes.)  As I started talking with people and drinking in the visual and tactile stimuli, I started acclimatizing.  I started, as I tend to do, on projects that were a little more ambitious than may have been advisable.  I started and restarted the same project many times, destroying some beautiful yarn in the process, but getting a feel for tension and grip and a visual recognition of successful stitches and errors.  I spent countless hours pouring over Ravelry.  I made hats and hoods and cowls, but I quickly tired of sorting through hundreds of crochet patterns trying to find ones I found aesthetically pleasing, and decided to start knitting.  I’d attempted this once before, about six years ago, and gave up after getting comfortable with garter and stockinette work, having followed my little pamphlet straight from the most basic stitches to cabling, missing everything in between (and pretty much everything, I think, lies in between).  I was nervous.  I was uncomfortable.  I was determined, because pretty knit patterns are significantly easier to find than similar crochet patterns, which are often reinterpretations of successful knit patterns.

For my birthday, my little sister gave me some beautiful yarn, knowing that it was one of my new obsessions.  My first knitting project was a basic garter stitch scarf, using birthday yarn.  My second project, requested by a friend, is a brown and blue striped scarf, which I decided needed to be a bit more complicated, so that I could get some practice in with purling, as well.  I began by casting on, and, unhappy with a few inconsistencies in tension, pulling the stitches out and starting again.  After the first dozen or so times, I had perfected my European thumb cast-on.  However, I kept losing my place with seed stitch, not yet recognizing the visual difference between knit and purl.  I pulled out the first six inches several more times.  I was tempted to give up and return to my hooks, settling for natural affinity over aesthetic appreciation.  Had it been a project for myself, I may have.

However, having a self-imposed deadline (before it’s too warm to need a scarf) and too much pride to choose the easy solution with something I was creating for someone else, I pressed on.  I got better.  I made conscious choices about which small errors to overlook and consider marks of character and handmade charm, and which to rip back to and obliterate from the record.  Those troublesome first six inches rapidly multiplied… twelve, eighteen…forty-eight…  I shed my apprehension of color breaks, beginning to see them instead as mini-rewards and landmarks of progress.

Yesterday, I realized that, in only four short weeks, I’ve reached the point where I can knit while watching a movie with subtitles, without losing my place in either!  I’m proud of this mile stone.  I’m also humbled by it, because it reminds me of when I was first learning bodywork.  I was just as eager and as hungry to learn.  I was just as determined to get the right rhythm and tactile sensitivity into my hands.  I was just as nervous and excited to share small discoveries and triumphs with teachers, but also open to making mistakes and not knowing.  ”Not knowing” simply equated with “opportunity to learn.”

I still feel that excitement about learning, now, regarding bodywork, but it’s accompanied by a fear that has never been its companion before.  The fear says that there’s a “right amount” for me to know, and that I’m not there yet (and, I suspect, will never quite make it to wherever “there” is, since it will keep moving down the path at the same pace as I’m moving toward it).  It says that what I do know would be more legitimate if there were more letters cozied up to my name than are there already.  The fear entirely misses the point.  One of the greatest things about working with the human body is that NO ONE on the planet knows or has ever known everything there is to know, and this is, above all, an unparalleled invitation to explore joyfully, to share discoveries with peers and clients, to find new perspectives, and to thrive by growing into this potential new knowledge while spreading roots through the contributions of others, gathering everything one can to feed one’s own synthesis of materials.

Tropenmuseum – Shiva Nataraja (6274-1) (Photo credit: MicheleLovesArt)

It’s November!  Already!  Super exciting things coming up this month, carrying through a lot of wonderful things that happened in October.

Last week was the Apiary’s Femfessionals Shiva Nata event.  I was so impressed with all of the ladies who came to play, bravely embracing the challenge of a new-to-them movement system and alternately finding the fun and the calm that come with it, as well.  We alternated between theory and practice, and let our brains settle into seated meditation and deeper savasana.  Here are a few of the things students said:

“One thing I noticed is that my breath is calmer and more even.”

“I love Shiva!  Loved learning more about it AND feeling really calm and CLEAR (huge for me) during Savasana.  Loved it!”

“Inner peace…I learned to shut off my brain!”

We wrapped up with Glow Nata (my nickname for Shiva Nata with glow stick bracelets), something I had the impulse to try a while ago, but which I was saving for a big group to try.  So much fun!

Tonight is the next Shiva Nata class, from 6-7.  If anyone is accepting the NaNoWriMo challenge, I encourage you to drop in!  Shiva Nata can help both with boosting your creativity AND busting your resistance habits.  It’s a great way to get your words flowing.  Even if you have no interest in writing a novel in a month, come anyway!  Ease in writing is only one example of an intention you could set.  Others might include retaining study materials more easily, resisting your kids’ candy hauls from last night, finding your center and an easy way to return to it when you feel off-kilter… or, really, simplifying anything that feels stuck.  We’re erasing old patterns and writing new ones.

If you can’t make it tonight but are still feeling curious about this, classes are held Thursday nights from 6-7.  More information can be found at http://www.erinbusby.com.

Come play!  Looking forward to seeing you!

I also received my Shiva Nata teaching certification for Level 1 directly from Andrey, who systematized an ancient movement practice, isolating key points and developing the system for teaching the movement patterns.  This makes me the only Shiva Nata teacher in Minnesota directly certified by him, which is pretty exciting.  I look forward to studying under him again in the future.  I feel as though I’ve just barely scraped the surface of all I could learn about this practice and about Universal Yoga, and that is a really exciting feeling for me, particularly in light of how much I’ve already learned.

My dear friend Kalyani Glass will be coming from Gettysburg, Pennsylvania in October for a special two-hour Shiva Nata workshop.  Kay has been a driving force in advancing the Shiva Nata community in the United States.  She encouraged several of us to attend last week’s training, and she has been passionately introducing Shiva Nata to diverse populations.  She teaches it to children in a bilingual school, using Shiva Nata to help increase fluency in Spanish and English, and has also worked with male and female inmates in the prison system, and with the elderly.  I recommend signing up for this workshop.  Contact me for more information.  The Apiary will be a-buzz with brain-stimulating, coordination-building, meditation-for-those-who-can’t-sit-still activity.

More details will be posted at the Honeybee Healing Arts website.  Also, for those of you who are on Foursquare, Honeybee Healing Arts is now a Foursquare hotspot, so check in when you drop by and earn some points!  There is also now a Google Places listing, and I welcome anyone who has received services or attended classes with me to write a line or two.  (Thank you in advance!)  You’re welcome, too, to follow the Facebook page for more up-to-the-moment posts about what’s happening at the Apiary.  (And on Twitter, I’m @ErinCNBusby.)

Online booking is available, and for those who prefer to text or call, the number is 612-408-6552.

I’m looking forward to autumn at the Apiary.  The hot towel warmer and the table heater are all ready to help take the edge off the chill that’s just starting to settle in, and I’m full of new skills and new perspectives I’m having fun integrating into my practice.  Looking forward to sharing them with you!

In celebration of expanding my Shivanautical horizons, I’m offering free attendance to a Shiva Nata class to everyone who receives bodywork during the month of September.  The classes that this offer applies to are on September 20, September 27, and October 4.  Pre-registration is encouraged, as physical space is limited.

Online booking is up and working beautifully at the main website for Honeybee Healing Arts, and there is also a new events calendar, powered by Google, which allows you to copy events directly to your own calendar.

Plans are in the works for a special Shiva Nata event in October, as well.  There will be guest teachers from out of town.  It’s going to be pretty awesome.  Details to come.

Looking forward to seeing you at the Apiary!

She was someone I instantly trusted.  She is grounded and graceful, absolutely present.  Her office is a bright pink cinderblock room in the back of a church… or, as she told me someone refers to it, “deep in the womb of St Mary’s.”  Everything is contained in one space — desk, chairs, table, shelves — and the impression is of simple functionality, but also deep self-accepting comfort.  Refreshingly un-spa-like.  The kind of calm confidence a lake has, trusting and allowing its depth to be there.

She greeted me in the hall, after I buzzed the button by her name and heard the latch click open.  We chatted a long time — a bit about my personal history, a bit about her training with Pat Ogden and about Peter Levine’s books, a bit more about my history… and she responded so beautifully.  She observed, “my goodness, your body’s been through a lot,” and smiled this deeply accepting smile when I acknowledged that it has, but that I’m grateful to the experiences for opening so many doors I didn’t know existed, which have all shaped the path I’m on so directly.

After a while, she guided me to the table.  Her hands were hot — I don’t know if she does energy work or not, but, as my t’ai chi instructor would have said, her qi was strong.

She worked with my sternum, following the tension I described as “cellophane pulled taut in both directions,” guiding it/guided by it to my right shoulder (the one I injured last summer), which got intensely painful until it wasn’t.  She observed that it felt like there were little wrinkles of tissue folded on top of itself that wanted to be smoothed out but had hardened — she thought that it predated the severe respiratory infection I’d acquired in Bangkok, but that maybe that had led to the hardening.  She was unsurprised that the humidity had bothered it again, and suggested avoiding tomatoes and red meat and starchy grains and eat things with anti-inflammatory properties, giving special care to incorporating lighter grains like quinoa and amaranth.  Basic rule: nothing that would be deeply comforting in February.

She also worked with my descending colon — I’ve had a sharp, intermittent pain in the lower left quadrant of my abdomen, which at first I thought might be my ovary, but which has spread up along the path of the intestine, leading me to suspect that it was either the intestine itself or a trigger point referral from the iliacus.  She addressed the iliacus, and I mentioned that I knew my gait was uneven and that my right SI joint is often unstable, and that several months ago I went through a phase of having to turn in tight circles, rein myself in, in order to force my body back into a straight line.  This was my first thought of horses — turning in a tight circle is a technique for controlling an out-of-control mount who won’t stop — you allow them to follow the desire to keep moving but eliminate the choice of direction, and usually they stop fighting.  There was also referral from the left iliacus to the right quadratus.  And then it passed and I felt shifting and unwinding in my intestines, and then they settled.

I had the impulse to ask about tipped uteri — if they tend to relate more to familial tendency (there are instances of this in my family), or to personal body experience (I don’t know how mine sits, but it seemed important to ask, anyway).  She said that she doesn’t know, generally, but offered a thought about strengthening the pelvic floor.  I mentioned Tami Lynn Kent, and the pelvic floor work I’d done, and was surprised to suddenly remember that the left side of my pelvic floor doesn’t engage and the right side is overdeveloped, and I wondered out loud if there was even innervation there, anymore, because it just feels thin and atrophied.  She asked why I’d question if there was innervation, and a memory came back, stronger than I expected, of landing on the horn/pommel of a Western saddle when my horse tripped while being lunged.  The memory was hot and painful — I hadn’t acknowledged the injury out of embarrassment.  I’d focused my concern on the horse — it was the beginning of her randomly tripping while being ridden.  I’d compensated then, and was surprised to realize that I’d been compensating since.

The tears came up.  It was a much stronger reaction than I expected.  I didn’t realize there was still so much emotional power in that particular memory.  It pulled with it so many memories about fear about my horses’ safety while I was growing up — fear of tornadoes and severe storms (which hold nothing but ecstatic aliveness for me when I’m not preoccupied by fear for the safety of others), nightmares about predatory animals — bears, cougars, wolves — and having to fight them alone, cornered in a stall, with nothing but a pitchfork (and inexplicably, an overturned picnic table).

Gayle noted that the pattern of restriction in my chest was a pulling in — not a rounding forward, so much as a pinning inward.  When she demonstrated, I saw excellent riding posture.

She asked about stretching.  I told her that I like the idea, but that my body tends to tear instead of stretch.  We talked about the first point of mild tension, a concept I know but don’t really apply to myself often enough… and bringing body-consciousness to the area.  Making the fastest changes by making the smallest, gentlest movements with the greatest awareness.

Standing up after the session felt like freedom.  She observed that I’d gained length through my torso.  I could feel it.  Later that day, I could feel the tension patterns creeping back in, but I was aware of their presence in a way that seemed more curious than resentful, which was an important shift, and I was able to interact with them with more patience and tolerance and humor than I had been.

In the end, I was grateful for the realization that I have time.  That all experiences are teachers.  That all roads have led me here.  That my body is unwinding backwards through time, even as I keep moving forward, consciously acknowledging the layers.  And trusting that, as she said, I’m right on track… maybe even a little early.

Biodynamic CranioSacral Therapy, Bruno Chikly’s Brain Therapy, Visceral Manipulation, Neuromuscular Massage Therapy, Somatic Processing (using the techniques of Sensorimotor Psychotherapy), Yoga

Why do clients typically seek your particular style of work?

Because I use a wide variety of modalities, there is a wide variety of reasons that clients seek the work:  PTSD, exploring emotional issues through the body, physical injuries, overuse, general structural maintenance, fine-tuning a yoga practice, chronic soft-tissue discomfort (MS, fibromyalgia, etc.)

How did you get interested in doing what you do?

I suffered a debilitating injury of unknown cause and was helped by massage therapy and other complementary care modalities.

How long have you been in practice?  Has your practice always looked like this, or have there been variations?

I graduated from massage school in 1988 and began by doing full-body Swedish massage.  Then I became certified in Neuromuscular Massage Therapy and began studying CranioSacral Therapy and Visceral Manipulation.  In 1995 I completed a two-year training in Sensorimotor Psychotherapy, which included how to work with developmental emotional issues as well as with the results of trauma.

Where and when did you do your training?  Was it formal or informal?

Most of my training was through formal bodywork organizations, and I’ve added in whatever seems useful along the way.

Is tipping appropriate for your business?  Why or why not?  How much?

I don’t consider tipping appropriate.  What I do is health care.  If you don’t tip your doctor, chiropractor, physical therapist, or counselor, then you shouldn’t tip me.

What are your rates?  Do you use a fixed or sliding fee scale?  Are taxes included?  What forms of payment do you accept?

My rate is currently $75 / hour.  Occasionally I  offer a lower fee if circumstances warrant.  I add taxes on to my fee.  I believe that clients need to know that the State of Minnesota makes us collect sales tax even though we are health care providers.  I accept cash and checks.

Are clients clothed or disrobed during your service?  What kind of draping can they expect?

Clients might be clothed or disrobed, depending on what kind of work we’re doing.  If they are disrobed, they can expect professional, appropriate draping that protects their modesty.

What ages can you treat, and in that range, what ages have you comfortably treated?

My youngest client was four years old, and my oldest client was in her 90s.

What are common fears you have encountered in new clients that you’d like to allay?

This is so individual to each client; I always ask a client if he or she has any questions they’d like to ask before we get started.

How frequently and for how long do you recommend receiving treatment within a typical treatment plan?

There is no typical treatment plan.

Are there other modalities you would consider complementary to your work?

Of course.  Many, many.

How long does a typical session last?  Are there reasons for doing longer or shorter sessions?

My sessions last one hour.  Very, very rarely longer or shorter.

If I don’t live in the same city as you, or if I want to experience your modality while I’m traveling, are there resources for me to easily and safely find a skilled practitioner in other places?

If people ask for this, I tell them about websites where they can find practitioners.

What kind of licensing do you have?  Are there legal standards that apply?

I am licensed by the City of Saint Paul as a Massage Therapist.  The State of Minnesota does not currently license massage therapy.  I practice Somatic Processing legally under Minnesota statutes that allow for unlicensed mental health care.

What kind of records are kept about clients?  Who has access to them?

Standard SOAP notes.  Only I have access to them, or the client if requested.

Is there paperwork to fill out, and if so, how much time does it typically take to complete?

My intake paperwork usually takes only 5-10 minutes.

What kind of products do you use during your sessions?

Almost none most of the time.  Occasionally a beeswax-based lubricant for gliding strokes.

What kind of sanitation practices do you adhere to?

Standard handwashing, table cleaning, and linen laundering.

If I have questions before/after my session, what’s the best way to get them answered?

Ask any time.

Do you have a website?

Yes:  bodywork through the Barral Institute (IAHP.org) and LaurelYogaStudio.com.

How do I book an appointment?

Telephone, email, or before leaving a session.

How do you take care of yourself?

I schedule a half-hour between clients, I do not add in more client appointments than I know I can physically/mentally/emotionally tolerate in a day or a week, I take vacations regularly, I eat well and exercise and get sufficient sleep, I receive bodywork regularly.

How can I continue the work we’ve begun here in my daily life?

That would have to be discussed in the context of an appointment, it’s so different from client to client.

Will you provide me with specific self-care homework to help me take this work deeper?

If that’s what you wish to do.

If I want to explore this more on my own, what books or other resources would you recommend?

Again, that’s so individual, depending on the client and the modality.

I made a lot of changes to the Apiary.  With a little help from my friends, I got an important piece of furniture moved in that helps it bridge its functions of intimate bodywork space and spacious Shiva Nata studio much better.  There are more plants.  Everything is balanced.  The most common exclamation these days is how “me” the space is, which seems like a very good thing.  I have re-discovered the wonderful world of Etsy… and better still, realized that rearrangement often does as much as adding new elements!

I looked at several online booking programs, tried three of them, and chose the one that matches my needs almost exactly!  Both bodywork appointments and class participation can now be pre-booked online at your convenience!  Setting up recurring appointments is easy, too — just a click of a button.

I got the blog linked to the website and the website to the blog —  I’m not an expert in any of this yet, but my learning curve is improving!

Shiva Nata!  I taught my first class in the Apiary last week and am adding more to the calendar.

Shiva Nata!  I was offered an opportunity that I simply couldn’t turn down to study under the top practitioner/teacher in the world, Andrey Lappa… next month!  I’ll be hopping over to Virginia for a few days next month, revitalizing my personal practice, my teaching approach, and my approach to life, the universe, and everything… and possibly more?

I’ve met several brilliant practitioners of different healing modalities and will be writing about them here coming up!

Everything is blossoming, and many things are doing so in ways I couldn’t have predicted.  Feeling rather pronoiac lately!

Very deepest gratitude to everyone who has been following and supporting this transition.  I am so excited to be able to welcome you into the healing haven you’ve helped me create!

Dr. Emily performed the most thorough and thoughtful intake exam I have experienced in at least a decade, perhaps longer.  After listening to my health background, she took X-rays.  She walked me through what she was seeing, including noting that at some point I’d had muscle damage in the left side of my neck and the tendons hadn’t healed in exactly the right places (which made a lot of sense to me, having had several instances of neck trauma that came readily to mind).  I felt included in the process.  I felt that my subjective experience of my body was respected and allowed to complete the picture for her objective analysis.  With that level of communication established, we approached the table.  She adjusted me, addressing my right clavicle and adjusting the AC joint — after eight months, my shoulder felt like it was in the right place again!  I was absolutely elated!

I have been seeing her more consistently than I have ever seen a healthcare practitioner before.  In addition to helping me heal my shoulder, she has relieved me of so many other issues that have presented themselves.  I was in excruciating pain with what I suspected might be carpal tunnel syndrome, barely able to exert pressure with my left hand.  Dr. Emily applied kinesiotape to my elbow, explaining that it would help by lifting the skin, improving circulation, and providing supplemental support so the underlying structures could experience less strain.  After two days, my arm was pain-free and fully functional again, all strength restored.  Also, I have had issues with my left knee since elementary school and with my left ankle since I was hit by a car several years ago and tore ligaments.  She has adjusted both, which has helped restore and maximize function.  She has adjusted my SI joints (at the sacrum), which has improved the balance of my walk.  She has adjusted my ribs, which has done wonders for my ability to breathe without restriction (an issue for me since having had a severe respiratory infection two years ago, which was treated successfully last May with Visceral Manipulation, but which has been bothering me since the humidity has increased again this summer).

I cannot express how much working with her has benefited me.  She’s remarkably knowledgeable about anatomy and physiology, which is incredibly important!  (My range of experiences with nearly a dozen chiropractors has included an individual who misidentified ‘pecs’ as ‘lats,’ which are among the more commonly recognized muscles, and this mistake, along with her cookie-cutter, spine-only, no-palpation approach, destroyed my confidence in her expertise.  My other experiences have been on a spectrum between that experience and my experiences with Dr. Emily.)  Dr. Emily is exceptionally efficient, effective, and professional, and beyond that, has a warm and welcoming demeanor.  She genuinely cares, and that in itself is transformative.  It’s a joy to find someone who relates to the body with as much humor and geekery as I do.  I feel so fortunate to have found her!