You settle onto the table, the soft music begins, and the room fills with the scent of lavender. For you, this is a sanctuary of stillness. For me, it is the beginning of a profound, silent conversation.
A common question I get is, “What do you think about while you’re working?” The answer is: I’m listening. Not with my ears, but with my hands and my focused attention. I’m not just “rubbing” muscles; I’m engaging in a continuous process of assessment and response. I wanted to pull back the curtain a bit on that internal dialogue, to show you that you are being seen as a whole, dynamic being—not just a set of sore spots.
My hands are asking questions. They’re translating the language of your body’s tissues into a narrative I can understand and help reshape. While you drift into relaxation, here’s a glimpse of the curious, analytical, and deeply respectful conversation happening in my mind:
The Story of Strain: My first goal is to understand your body’s unique story. What is its inherent, natural pattern, and what strain patterns have been written on top of it by life—your desk job, your old injury, that sport you love, the way you carry stress? I’m tracing not just where you’re tight, but the lines of pull that connect seemingly separate areas of tension.
The Cast of Characters: Once I sense a pattern, I investigate the players. What muscles are overworking, and which have gone quiet? Is your right shoulder hiking because those muscles are chronically tight and “facilitated,” or because the opposing muscles on your back are weak and “inhibited,” allowing the imbalance? This tells me whether to invite release or encourage activation.
The Tissue Itself: Not all “tightness” is the same. My pressure and technique shift based on what I’m meeting. Am I gently melting protective muscle guarding, unraveling sticky fascial adhesions, or cautiously coaxing a irritated nerve pathway? Each requires a different dialect in our hands-on conversation.
A Key Distinction: Are these tight muscles shortened and clenched (concentrically contracted), or are they long, taut, and struggling to support you (eccentrically contracted)? The “why” behind this dictates my entire approach. And it challenges a common assumption: tight muscles are not always “strong.” Often, they are exhausted, overburdened guardians, while their weaker counterparts need to be gently recruited back to the team.
The Bigger Picture: Every move is considered. If I release this guarded muscle here, what is the effect on the joint it was protecting? My work is to create safety, not instability. The ultimate question always is: Where is this body’s innate wisdom, its desire for balance, and how can I help remove the obstacles to that homeostasis? I’m not imposing a fix; I’m collaborating with your body’s own intelligence.
This continuous learning is why I’m evolving my own practice. While I’ve always valued intuitive, responsive work, I’ll be incorporating more structured plans moving forward. Think of it as a roadmap for our sessions together, built from these silent questions and your stated goals, ensuring we’re progressing thoughtfully.
Most importantly, this isn’t a monologue. True healing is a partnership. So, look forward to “homework.” Nothing daunting—perhaps a mindful breathing technique, a simple mobility drill, or a reminder to set your timer and stand up. Your active participation between sessions is the most powerful multiplier of the work we do on the table.
So next time you’re on the table in that blissful, quiet state, know that my focus is complete. I’m listening to the story your body is telling, asking questions with my hands, and working with you—not just on you—to help you turn the page toward a new chapter of ease and alignment.
I look forward to continuing the conversation.
If you're ready to experience this collaborative, thoughtful approach, I invite you to schedule your next session. Together, we can listen to your body's story and guide it back toward balance.
I can't wait to see you on the table again.
