Did you know that sometimes, when a muscle relaxes it lets out a little sigh like a kitty purring or your grandma starting to snore a little? The first time it happened I jumped back from my client, startled. “Did you fall asleep,” I asked her? I knew she hadn’t because she was talking to me, but what else could it have been?! It was that muscle relaxing snore. I know that now.
People often ask me, “How do you manage to go to exactly where the knots are?” The muscle snore is one reason. They snore to let you know you’re doing the right thing. I also see pictures in my brain of where to put my hands next. I feel a little sick to my stomach when I touch an area of pain. Someone once called me a “muscle whisperer.” Ha ha that’s nice. Yes, it’s something like that.
This is no special talent, however. It’s just where I put my time and intention. Our bodies are like separate people, working along side us, lifting shit up and sitting in a chair for hours, lurching and buckling with the pain and stress. And never even saying a word.
Until like six years go by and they’ve had enough. Then they might say, “Excuse me, could we go for a walk.?” They say this by inventing a pain in the butt called sciatica. This is a somewhat polite request, given the situation. A little too polite. So we ignore them.
A few days later the cry for help is louder. So we sigh to our muscles, slightly annoyed, “Fine, we’ll take my hard earned money and get you a massage.”
By the time they get to my room, they’ve got quite a lot to say and I, being the one who speaks muscle, get an earful. They are funny little guys, these muscles, purring and raising their hands for attention. I tell them to be gentle with you, you have a lot on your mind. They tell me the mind is an overrated blow hard. We laugh and I agree, but what can we do? You can tell our secrets they tell me. So I d0.