The Student was Ready

When my husband Rick talks about the beginning of his career, he often presents a wonderful quote. It's a Buddhist proverb that says, "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear."
When I started massage school in Connecticut several years ago, I knew I was in the right place. I had visited the very same school many years prior to that and fell in love with it, but the circumstances of that part of my life didn't allow for me to enroll. I know now that I wasn't ready at that earlier point. And when I was finally able to begin my courses in massage therapy, I just knew that it was the perfect new path for me to take.
Since I was working full time and going to school part time, 3 evenings a week, my time at school was broken up into 5 'semesters'. With each passing week my passion for my future career grew. I loved my classmates, my classes and the work. In the third semester, we had a class called Energetic Foundations. I was very excited for this class, and more than a little curious. When I told my 'science and math' son about it, he scoffed, saying, "There's no scientific basis for that." I had no idea if there was but I couldn't wait to start it.
The time came for the first class. At our school, we sat on pillows on the floor in a circle. As we entered the room, there was a serene centerpiece in the middle of the circle. We settled in and met our instructor, Richard Harris. There were the opening greetings, remarks, sharing, and rules and regs. Then we got into the subject.
You know how in movies when a person achieves a goal or makes a profound discovery and the soundtrack may play a Hallelujah chorus? That's exactly what happened. As soon as Richard began showing us about energetic work, I knew that 'the teacher had appeared'. From that very first class, I knew the major focus of my massage work would be with energy work of some kind. It comes out of me naturally and now here was this guy telling me how to direct it for the good of my clients! It was then and remains to this day my favorite class.
Fast forward awhile. I have been working as a massage therapist for 2 years now and my love for and interest in energy work has only grown. And this past weekend, I had the privilege of teaching my very first energy workshop! I wondered if I'd be able to teach this class in a way that would help them understand. Could I get across to them and help them learn what is built into me already? Turns out I could. And I did. It was a gratifying and energizing day.
Looking back at past experiences, it's easy to see how this ripple grew. I used to love playing teacher and I loved school.  (Well, grammar school anyway.) I raised my children, which is teaching every day. Having a spirited and involved group of classmates to go through school with was vital. Being married to a brilliant teacher lays terrific groundwork for the type of exchange necessary between students and instructors.  Even the experience I gained while teaching 2-year-olds for a year came in handy! And landing in a classroom with an instructor who knew his stuff, was passionate about his subject, and gifted in getting his message across to students, was an especially valuable gift.

Thanks to the special teachers throughout my public school years, the many unofficial mentors I've learned from, my bright and curious kids, my beloved CCMT classmates, my remarkable husband, a pack of toddlers, and Richard Harris. Being blessed with all these experiences and guides assures me that this energetic ripple of students and teachers will never end.

News of Life and Death

Life and death...perhaps the original ripple. A life begins, miraculous in itself. The ripples begin, circling out and out and out. Eventually, the ripples begin to return, in and in, smaller, tighter closer. The miracle of life, in this incarnation anyway, ceases.

Life. Especially new life!  Oh so amazing! All those cells dividing to head to a stunning sum; a breathing, wriggling, snuggly irresistible creature arrives. New life has such a pull for me...as time goes on and as my own children have passed into adulthood, babies are just such a confirmation of hope and faith. Plus they just smell so yummy!
Death though, now that's another animal entirely. In our culture, we fear death and all it entails...loss, sadness, uncertainty, pain of all kinds. No less miraculous, just much tougher to grasp.
Yesterday, I had the privilege to receive news of both new life and death. Yes, you heard me, privilege. In this world of news-at-your-fingertips, we forget that news is shared. Someone thinks 'this is valuable information...I'll share it with you.' Well I certainly got my share yesterday.
Yesterday morning before I started work, I took a few minutes to check out Facebook. I came across News Gift Number One. Friends of ours recently welcomed their new daughter into the world, and they'd put a slide show of her home birth into an album which appeared on Facebook yesterday morning. Let me tell you, there are few words to describe it. Mom labored and gave birth at home, as naturally as could be. And though Mom had shared her experience with me already, while I held their 2-week-old sweet pea in my arms, the black and white photos of their family in these tender hours really told the story. 'Beautiful', like 'awesome' and 'amazing', have become such trite and overused words, but it was truly a thing of simple and emotional beauty. I was privileged to be able to witness it and celebrate the joy of a new life.
Later on that day, I received News Gift Number Two. This time though, I received news of the end of life. A young life. Ouch. Much more difficult to see this as a privilege.
Early this summer, in the midst of a very hectic day of massage, I looked over the client information form of my next client. The things I immediately noticed...Her unusual name. Her age. 14. And a glaring statement at the bottom of the page. Bone Marrow Transplant. As someone once said, "Hold up, wait a minute!" Took myself a few seconds and approached the only 14-year-old in the lobby. Reached my hand out and took hers. Introductions were exchanged and so began one of the most impactful hours of my life.
We headed back to my massage room. I explained what this type of massage is all about, since it was to be her first professional massage. Then I asked about the bone marrow stuff. She was matter-of-fact and clear. Diagnosed with cancer at 4. Bone marrow transplant coming up in a few weeks. Yow.
We had our session. Her body relaxed very well for a person unused to that kind of touch. Through my hands, I sent every positive message of gratitude that I had within me. She loved her massage, and as with any client, I loved helping her to feel better in some way.  At the end of our session, I gave her a gift certificate that I'd received...I told her to feel free to come back before her procedure and that I'd be happy to help her relax before the big event. She and her Mom were very grateful. I was blown away by the entire thing.
The date of her transplant approached and she and her Mom appeared on our schedule. Shortly before the transplant, their names vanished. The front desk staff told me that they'd had to cancel, Dr's orders. I felt a little shiver of something...fear, premonition, who knows. All I know is that girl had stuck with me. I thought of her very often and wished for her. The summer passed by.
2 days ago, as I checked my schedule, I saw her Mom's name. A little hope and more than a little dread surged through me. I mentioned to Rick that she was coming in and that I hoped to hear some news. I brought along one of my crazy zombie dolls as a gift...they are right up this girl's alley! The appointment time drew near.
Right on time, Mom came through the door. And I knew. I've only met her once and I just knew what she'd tell me. We headed back to my room.
I asked her "What's happening with you?" She said, "Well, you remember my daughter that you worked on?" I said, "Of course! She made a very big impact on me." And she said "Well, she passed, on the 11th." And you all know what I did. Gave her a big hug and started to cry. No time for professional boundaries in this case. She shared with me some details of the end of her daughter's life. What a painful, gorgeous, poignant gift  to receive. We went on to agree that if the session was too tough for either of us, we'd let the other know. Instead, it was a beautiful give and take, between client and therapist, between Moms of children of any age, between women, between human beings. Astounding to me, every day, every session, the power of touch and human connection.
At the end of our session, she told me that it was perfect...just what she needed. And somehow, just like meeting her daughter that day this summer, it was just what I needed too.
I asked her if she'd like the doll that I made, and she took it with gratitude. She said what I had thought might be true, "Oh, she would have loved this!" We hugged and we parted ways. I have a feeling we'll meet again.
The gifts of this day were enormous for me. Reminders to live, really live life. Feel it all, suck it up and share it with anyone you meet. Be thankful for the intersections of your life with others. Some of these moments are just too stunning to let them fly by unnoticed.

Welcome, Ainsley.
Farewell, Sixx.
Thank you both so very much for the ripples you've begun.

Creativity

Earlier this summer, a new creative ripple began for me. It has turned out to be wide-spread and far-reaching. Although some of you have seen the fruits of my new creative bursts,  I'd like to share with you exactly how this particular ripple began.
Friends of ours were expecting a baby, due in early September. For many years now, I have made baby quilts for the new little ones of friends and relatives. I love the entire process, from choosing the fabric to determining the pattern, to cutting up the fabric only to sew it back together again. In mid-summer, I went to the fabric store to wander around and get some inspiration. After a few hours of perusing, I decided on fabric and had a very loose idea of a pattern. I headed to the checkout line. In this particular store, waiting in line can take for-ev-er. They have strategically placed tons of small add-on items in the line, along with their magazine rack. As the line crawled by the rack, a crafter magazine caught my eye. It was called Stuffed and it had 3 crazy looking pink dolls on the cover. I picked it up and the rest, as they say, is history. Or ripple, if you prefer.
I did not buy the magazine that night. I'm not a huge consumer of stuff. Rick is the magazine person of our household. But I just could not get this magazine out of my head! The few dolls and creatures I saw had lit my imagination on fire! The next day, I went to another store that carried it and I bought it. And I bet I have looked at it a hundred times or more by now.
I did make the baby quilt, along with a very sweet dolly to match. That week, I not only completed those two projects, but three other 'zombie' type dolls. They are like nothing I have ever made!
Creativity is such a random thing! I have been creating since I was young; everything from drawing and writing to sewing and painting. Sometimes the ideas are so fast- and free-flowing that my hands can't seem to keep up with my imagination. And sometimes the well is dry, or so it appears, and the creative side of me settles on the back burner for awhile. Through periods in my life of great stress, sadness or challenge, the creative side of me almost dies, and though it sometimes seems like it will never return, it always does, just when I least expect it! And no matter how long it's been dormant, I welcome that side of me back with open arms, because it just feels so darn good to make something from start to finish.
The dolls I've made are piling up now on a shelf in our room. I have gifted some and bartered some. One was made from two fabric scraps I found on my walk one morning! I never know what will inspire the next creature...I just pull out the scrap bag, choose a fabric and get started. There are no such things as mistakes...when something doesn't go as I had planned, I roll with it and see what happens. The idea I finish with is almost never the idea I begin with, and that is the best thing about the whole process! The more dolls I make, the more that pop into my imagination!
If you are thinking of doing something creative, but don't know what you'll do or how to start, take my advice; just start! If you like the idea of painting, get some brushes and paint and see what comes out. If it's not at all what you like, try again. If it's a little what you like, keep going. If it's a lot what you like, share it, gift it or frame it! Remember, it's not what other artists in the world have done that you are basing your creativity on, it's what's in your heart and your hands. Creativity just plain feels good! So what are you waiting for?
The dolls I make now have their own Facebook page called Fiddleheads and Chaos. And I'm in the process of stocking the shelves of my new Etsy shop by the same name. I will offer my dolls as one-of-a-kind creations, but I'm also open to custom orders. I look forward to the ripples this new venture will bring my way. And I also look forward to seeing what you create! Let the creativity ripple begin!

Give and Take

When I was little, we had a swing set in our back yard.  On one end of it was a thing we called the Push-me-Pull-me.  I have no idea what its real name was but that's what we called the glider type ride that needed two kids, working in rhythm, to make it go. You would push out your feet on the peg and the other kid would pull on their handle, then switch on the back swing. You had to push to get the pull, each of you, so you'd both enjoy the ride. The name could have been Give-me-Take-me.  That ride was one of the first concrete demonstrations of give and take that I can remember.

When we humans are born, we take.  Take take take! We are helpless and completely dependent on our parents for every need we have. At this point, the parents do alllllll the giving and we do allllll the taking. As we grow, our parents begin to teach us how to be Givers.  Especially if you are raised with siblings, sharing is one of the first giving lessons you're taught. We learn to share our toys or our snacks. The balance between taking and giving slowly begins to shift.

Because we are human, and human nature is what it is, the shift doesn't smoothly change from taking to giving in one gentle curve.  It looks more like an EKG read-out. As we go through school, we quickly learn who to share with by seeing how generous they are in return. Somewhere in grammar school, a Taker named Janice Hollar met a Giver named Pam, who gave over her allowance money and never saw it again. Ouch! Hard lesson! And certainly the teen years are defined by taking. It's the time when we are trying on all kinds of hats to see what we're actually made of. Because of that self-absorbed process, we are rarely thinking much about giving.

As we begin to have long term relationships outside of family, we become very giving. What feels better than giving a gift to a new love? Perhaps receiving one! And before you know it, one of these relationships becomes permanent. When we become parents, we see exactly how completely giving our parents were when we were babies. It's just plain true that you never fully understand this until you actually have a child of your own. We continue the ripple by teaching our children how to give.

While I think that there do exist Givers and Takers of all ages in this world, there is an ebb and flow involved. For instance, when you're sick, your partner or maybe your coworkers must give some more. And you must take. Or when life has shifted in a large and unexpected way and you just can't do it on your own...you need help! If you've given in the past, there are Givers around you who are more than willing to give to you. Of course, the converse is true. You sometimes must give much more than your share when someone else must take for awhile. 

As we grown older and the cycle winds around on itself again, we must naturally become Takers again. If we are lucky enough to have a giving partner to share our life with, we can play the give and take game for as long as we both are able. Give as much as you can, while you can! Your efforts will bring many rewards down the road.

I consider myself, at this stage of my life, a Giver. There have been times when I needed to be a Taker. It was very hard but necessary and I did it. I am doing my best to be a Giver now, since there are so many people who need to take, even just a little. With every massage session, I give as much of myself as I can, always remembering somewhere in my mind the enormous generosity I received when I needed to be a Taker. It's my pleasure to give. And when the ripple comes back and I might need to take again, I just need to remember that the Giver really wants to help me, if I have to be a Taker for just a little while.

Perspective

It happens to all of us, from the crankiest pessimist to the sunniest optimist. There comes a time when all of us get down in the dumps.  Feel sorry for ourselves. Want to stay under the covers and cry even. There's nothing wrong with that in my opinion. It's healthy to feel those waves of emotion. Difficult but normal. Ick.
Sometimes though, just when it feels like you are the only one on this good Earth that has a problem or even just the blues, you get a reminder that you are soooo not. If you notice and grab onto that reminder, you can ride a rejuvenating ripple back up to the sunny side of the street.
I had been feeling just a little blah, which for me, feels like a lot blah.  Not my norm. I can't drag that around though. At the very least, the world doesn't need another speck of negativity. Not to mention my clients, and especially my husband! I was working on it and to some degree feeling a little better. Took a nap, rested my body, mind and soul. Then tonight I had a massage outcall.
An outcall is very rare for me. Throughout my work days I give my all to my co-workers and clients. I like to spend my off time at home, ideally with Rick. But a friend asked me if I'd work with her friend at a re-hab hospital. He'd had a poor result from surgery and needed massage.  Would I call him? Of course, I did, and met with him tonight. The re-hab hospital turned out to be a nursing home. Here's this vital non-senior citizen in with a mainly elderly population. He is in a great deal of discomfort and has a high level of frustration. He needs a walker to move around. However, he and his wife greet me with enthusiasm and gratitude. Leading me to, what else but...
What the heck do I have to complain about?
I mean, for real...I have the use of my two good legs. I work in a spa; if I need massage, I just say so, any time. I have all the things I could ever want, and most importantly, the love of my life by my side. When I entered this man's room, it was like that smack in the face we all sometimes need to remind us of exactly how lucky we are.
But that's not all.
While I am working with my client and his wife, there comes a knock at the door.  A staff member pushes a wheelchair into the room, in which an elderly man is sitting. Although he was very old, he was sharply dressed. Although he spoke quietly and with some effort, he was still 'with it'. The man I came to work with introduced the elderly man and asked him to share his story. Turns out that the elderly man has been diagnosed with terminal pancreatic cancer.
WOW.
Not only that, his wife, experiencing dementia symptoms for a few years, had recently been told that she could no longer be on her own, and was going to be placed in a facility for her growing needs. When my client asked the elderly gentleman how long he and his bride had been married, he told us 59 years. His eyes lit up and he told us how they had met, courted and married. Before he left to return to his own room, my client asked his wife, a preacher, to pray for the man. We all joined hands as she spoke. When she had finished her prayer, the elderly man, tears streaming down his face, shook each of our hands, sincerely thanked us, and slowly wheeled himself out.
That smack in the face I mentioned earlier now was a full-on kick in the pants. When I set out to do my friend a favor and help out a person in pain, I had no idea what the session would bring. I knew that I'd be able to help with some pain and stiffness, but I was surprised, not for the first time either, at how I was helped too.
I know it's easier said than done to get out of a funk. I am most always a positive and cheerful person, but sometimes you just have to lay low and heal. It's not always that you have a series of reminders like I had tonight. While sad and touching, these events serve to help you re-frame your stuff and move forward in a better way. I choose to use these experiences to help me relate to others I meet, in the world, in the spa, on-line. My lessons learned are rippled forward, in the hopes that I can remember just how much I have to be grateful for and how much sunshine and love I have to give.

Minimal Footwear, Maximum Ripple

Here they are, those odd five-toed shoes that seem to be everywhere these days. This particular pair belongs to my rebel husband Rick, that Vibram-wearing biomechanical bank of knowledge. I wear them only when I do massage, but Rick wears them all the time. However, he didn't begin to wear them because 'everybody is doing it'.  To be fair, Rick doesn't do anything for that reason! So, let's trace the Vibram Five Fingers ripple.
Well before we left CT in 2009, Rick had seen an article for these shoes.  He looked them up on-line and liked what he saw, style-wise but especially foot-function-wise. There were very few places carrying Vibrams at that time, and there was only one style. In a continuing education class at CCMT, Rick had a student named Bob, who eventually became a colleague and friend. On a trip to Boston, Bob found and purchased a pair of Vibrams. When Bob showed them to Rick, Rick was even more sure that these shoes were perfect for him, and for proper foot function in almost anyone.
In our very early days in Texas, when EVERYTHING was up in the air, Rick was Googling and looked up Texas locations for Vibrams. Luke's Locker, a specialty running store, came up.
As we became settled and Rick was hired to teach at Parker University School of Massage Therapy, he needed something else to do while on semester breaks.  He had been thinking about Luke's Locker, not only for getting a pair of Five Fingers, but maybe as a place to work.  He applied on-line for a part-time retail shoe position. In a few days, Rick received a call from Patton Gleason, the store manager. Patton left a message, wanting to schedule an interview.
I remember Rick telling me about his first impression of Patton. He described Patton as genuine and down-to-earth. Their talk covered many subjects, one of them a book called Born to Run by Christopher McDougall. Patton suggested Rick read it. Rick and I both have read it, and it truly is a life-changing book, whether you run or not.
After a few more meetings, Rick began working at Luke's. His gifts with people were in evidence each day that he worked there. He helped his customers with everything from shoe fitting and gait analysis to actual massage work to improve their running success. He became known as the Vibram specialist, and would look to recommend a minimal-support shoe to his customers, knowing what he does about how the human foot is made. His special relationship with Patton grew. As Rick had said to me after his first meeting with Patton, they met for a reason. Patton would, in all seriousness and with complete respect, greet Rick with Namaste', his palms together over his heart and bowing low. I think it's no stretch to say that Rick and Patton have each been an important piece of the other's growth and success.
Late last year, Patton left Luke's Locker. Before he left, he told Rick that he felt like they'd known each other in another life, and that they were kindred spirits. Rick felt the same way and was moved by Patton's words. I predicted that they were not yet done working with one another. Quite recently, Rick left Luke's as well.
Rick is now teaching and working with clients. His blog at engagingmuscles.com is full of art and knowledge, spreading the truth about human function. As his editor and biggest fan, I admit a spousal bias, but I learn something every time I read his posts. As for Patton, he has opened an on-line running shoe store that has literally taken off running! You can check out his minimal shoes, educational information, and plain old entertainment at naturalrunningstore.com. Pretty good music too.
So from a goofy-looking shoe, we ripple forward through years and miles and experiences to a friendship based on thinking outside the box, exploring the entrepreneur within, customer service, honesty, integrity and passion. That's a remarkably rewarding ripple.
Grab your Five Fingers (or go barefoot!) and go feel the Earth beneath your feet.  While you do, reflect on those you love, and the ripples that brought them into your life. Your ten little piggies, and your grateful heart, will love you for it.

An Adventure of Their Own, Part II

...continued...

The situation at our friend's house grew more and more difficult.  Their daughter Stacy and her boys virtually ran for their lives.  Restraining orders were put into place, divorce proceedings began, counseling sessions all around.  Very slowly, healing began.  Whenever Rick and I would contact Jane and Steve to update them on our news, we'd hold our breath as we heard the latest developments with their family. We were scared for them.  And there was nothing we could do but be supportive from afar.  The one thing we heard over and over from Jane was that Rick and I had helped her and Steve as much as they'd helped us.  We'd been the recipients of a ripple, starting with their generosity, that we bounced right back to them, when they most needed it and least expected it.
Seems like our presence in their home for a few weeks that winter had put them on the right track.  They told us that the friendship we shared with them encouraged them.  Jane said that we somehow gave them some calm and some peace when we were their guests. I don't know that we did that on purpose, but the relationship that Rick and I share often rubs off on people that way.  I do know that we had many long conversations over dinner and wine (or Steve's beer). We all shared parts of our histories, our hopes, plans and dreams. To use that trite phrase, we bonded.  And somehow, that invincible feeling of hope that Rick and I were feeling rubbed off onto Jane and Steve.  So when the going got tough, and then progressively tougher, they stayed strong, for themselves and for their family.
As things continued to see-saw up and down with Stacy and her boys, a healing rhythm was building in Jane and Steve's home.  Stacy reclaimed herself.  The boys struggled with confusion regarding their father but had deep love and support from their Mom and their grandparents. Rick and I got updates that became gradually more positive and encouraging, along with photos of the boys, now growing into young men. As one by one the hurdles in the way of the family's happiness were knocked down, a plan for a vacation was formulated.  There would be a trip to Arizona, to visit Jane and Steve's son and daughter-in-law.  There would also be a visit to the Grand Canyon.
By all accounts, the trip was a great success.  The boys loved it, the family was all together for the first time in a very long while. Coincidentally, on the return flight to Connecticut, there would be a layover at the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport.  Rick and I drove to meet them for a little while between their flights.
It was so great to see them all together!  They were tired but happy.  We could see and feel the happiness and peace on all their faces.  And the thing that made it so incredible...they had decided that by the same time the following year, the whole bunch of them would move to Arizona, for good.  It was time for their adventure; time for our friends to realize their dreams like Rick and I had.  It was their time to head west.
Over this last year, more roadblocks popped up in the way of their dreams, but each and every time, they met the challenges head-on and kept focused on the future. Finally, in mid-June, when the boys had finished the school year, they were off! Their POD was picked up, their cars too, and the 5 of them flew out of Connecticut, toward their new home, their new life. Just like Rick and I had, they had chosen a 'do-over'. The ripple that began when Jane and Steve welcomed us into their home, into their lives, had echoed back over them.  The sense of infinite possibility that Rick and I felt, still feel, now bathed our good friends. Their adventure has begun.