The importance of bodywork/ massage

‘Job’s Body’ by Deane Juhan

A book on the importance of bodywork

I am currently reading ‘Job’s Body’. Just reading the introduction makes me think that it should be a required text during any bodywork education. Let me reframe this – it should be common knowledge, especially in the medical field.

This book seems to put into words the deeper reasons why I am drawn to bodywork- both to give and receive.

Here are the highlights the book will explore, outlined in the introduction:

• Tactile input is essential for the development of the central nervous system.
• We have the potential to move fare beyond our genetic blueprint.
• Our body tissue goes through constant change; we are not fixed.
• Every sensation and emotion translates into muscle response. Those are the bases for our habitual patterns, posture and behavior.
• Tactile input can reeducate the organism, so it is then more able to resist depression and is able to repair itself when stressed or injured.
• Bodywork goes fare beyond pleasure; it has the potential to alter conditioned responses, chemical balance and structural relationships.
• Essential to lasting positive change is Self Awareness. Bodywork is an effective way to increase Self Awareness.

Reading on, I didn’t know how vital tactile sensation is for the development of the central nervous system. Yet it makes sense when Deane Juhan sites the observations in orphanages where the children were fed and kept clean, but didn’t receive nurturing touch. The results were similar to malnutrition. The children lost their thrive to life, didn’t develop physically and mentally and often died.

I have a very basic understanding on that we are not bound by our genetic blueprint. And I whole-heartedly agree and have experienced all the other points covered. So I can’t wait to read his explanations and learn how to put into words what I intuitively feel and know, so I am able to share it better.

Enjoy your explorations

Antje Roitzsch

KUNDALINI YOGA AND QUANTUM PHYSICS

Kundalini Yoga

SLANT, June, 2015

Reflections of the questing spirit

by Amy Carpenter

KUNDALINI YOGA AND QUANTUM PHYSICS

“The cosmos is within us. We are made of star-stuff. We are a way for the universe to know itself.”

-Carl Sagan

This month our Friday morning Kundalini yoga class drew to its yearly summer close, with, as always, plans to begin again in September. The pause in rhythm has me thinking about this unique practice, its fundamental nature and what it does for people. After all, what other yogic science combines rapid breath with rapid movement? And in what other yoga practice does one find oneself maintaining the most challenging (and often absurd) physical postures while breathing rapidly, or chanting, or both? If someone completely unfamiliar with kundalini yoga were to walk into a random class mid-stream, they would likely stand speechless for a second, wearing a look of befuddled consternation as unspoken thoughts scream the question: “Now why would anyone want to do that!?”

Everyone in the yoga tribe would say the answer is simple: because it works. These days most of earth’s humans would acknowledge that yoga has benefits, but there is an ever-growing planetary tribe that has come to depend on the practice for stress relief, strength, flexibility and, well, sanity. If life were like a river, as the mystics often say, then yoga is the flotation device that allows us to flow with the current a bit more calmly.

So what then do we say about kundalini yoga? Perhaps that it is a bit like passing over a stretch of rapids, the kind that make you feel really good when you’ve gotten through. After a succession of challenging postures, the pause for stillness can feel like landing in some sun-bedazzled pool. Kundalini yoga is designed to turn things up. Often conceptualized as fire, the practice stimulates and energizes the dormant life force energy located within every human body, allowing it to rise in frequency, providing more attunement, awareness and personal resolve for the challenges and goals of life. The term “raising kundalini” describes the process of igniting the inner fire and purity of energy, not unlike the fundamental laws of nature explained in quantum physics.

We float in a universe made up of waves and particles, according to quantum physics. These particles and waves move through a universe that is ever expanding in a pulsating rhythm liken to breath. Matthew Fox, the great radical catholic priest, philosopher and social activist, said that “we too, are both waves and particles- not just individuals but also the expression of the Cosmic Christ (or Buddha Nature) in all things.”

The atomic body also contains photons of light. When the particle containing these photons increases in temperature, it emits more energy. Planck’s law explains that not only do they increase in energy but overall, a larger proportion of the energy tends towards the violet end of the spectrum. Now to the modern physicist, the “violet end of the spectrum” means an entirely different thing than it does to the modern yogi. When we think violet, we think chakra, and we think auric field. Still, the parallel is remarkable. Would it not stand to reason that when we practice a yoga that combines breath of fire with rapid, temperature raising postures, we’re not only increasing our energy force, but also aligning ourselves more fully with the violet light of high chakra consciousness- cultivating the divine within.

Yoga tribe members know the descent into self that occurs at that nascent point during a mighty flow class or after a series of intense kundalini poses. It may come in that 8^th downward dog pose or seated cross-legged and pausing to integrate as we do in kundalini. Whatever the path to arrival, suddenly we discover what it’s like to find oneself and lose oneself all in an instant. Our auric fields pulsate at a higher frequency and those who can view their colors often report seeing a rose-violet light.

The river never stops running, and the universe will always take its next breath. If we are part of the dance of life, why not experience what it’s like to be that small particle hitchhiking on the wave of the divine? For the tribe members, there is no choice. When we are old and grey and can remember little more than our names, I like to think you will find us still…on the mat.

 

 

The Valley of the Child by Amy Carpenter

SLANT, May, 2015

Reflections of the questing spirit

by Amy Carpenter

THE VALLEY OF THE CHILD

“Every single one is, and is painfully every moment aware of it, still a child. …and in fact that child is the only real thing in them. What doesn’t come out of that creature isn’t worth having, or it’s worth having only as a tool – for that creature to use and turn to account and make meaningful.”

-Ted Hughes, in a letter to his son Nicholas, 1986

Now and then we all find ourselves tumbling down the ragged

mountain of personal history to suddenly land naked and ill

in the broad valley of the inner child.  According to Ted Hughes, that

is the time we are raw and vulnerable enough to actually connect

with our real essence. No longer fueling the energy required to

maintain our defenses, or the

functioning, worldly selves, we are instead picking through the

shards of a real or imagined defeat, our hearts broken and our

defenses as useless as a seal

I had such an encounter recently, as unexpected as any other. For a

week or two I walked around with a raw opening in my heart, a

small inner hollow of personal pain I hadn

known before.  Spontaneous tears erupted for days if I exposed

myself to any remotely moving experience, as if I suddenly had

emotional spina bifida. Not usually prone to tears, this was

altogether strange to me. Yet the opening, while it lasted, felt as

sweet as it did painful and I have to say, I sorta miss it

month later, the tears now dry and the fervor and pace of life

returned, I have a new perspective on that valley of the naked child.

No one holds a measuring stick to heartache.  It

condition, often avoided and out

of anticipatory feelers.  If we can imagine experiencing discomfort

or pain in any given aspect of human relationship, we are just as

likely to flee to the hills rather than expose our soft underbelly to

hurt, only to then stitch ourselves up afterwards.

And yet, each time we do, we are the better for it. Something in the

tenderness, the required self

teardrop, something about all of that produces a realness, an

authentic aliveness to the world that outlasts and outshines the pain.

Life is lived from soul versus utility, emotion versus aptitude.  And

while it may not be beneficial to take up residence in that valley, an

occasional visit keeps us humble, and part of the human circle at its

most connecting point.

There is a hundred things that could go wrong if we respond to life

from the perspective of the naked child. After all, everyone else has

their own inner valleys as well, why should ours afford the purest

view?  But there is an even greater danger in avoiding it. Life will

land us there eventually, whether we like it or not, so why not take

the opportunity to feel the bittersweet ache of that opening,

recognize our human aliveness, and transmute pain to joy.

Rose and Thorn?

Amy Carpenter shared another slant entry with us

February, 2015:

“like a steady ship doth strongly part

the raging waters and keeps her course aright;

ne aught for tempest doth from it depart,

ne aught for fairer weather’s false delight”

-Spenser

Rose and Thorn?

Each evening over dinner, our family asks each other the above question, usually prefaced with the habitual, “So…?”, as in, “So…rose and thorn?”. A query into the day’s adventure, it’s meant to elicit clarification. What was the brightest moment, and what most challenging? We inherited the tradition from old friends and have since shared it with our family at large, having many lengthy discussions over the years of what it means to each individual (young and old) to speak of the roses and thorns of life.

It is an equally appropo question to apply to the subject of love, which will certainly be much talked-about in the month ahead. While endless well-intended dollars are spent on the hallmarks of Valentine’s Day- cards, chocolate, jewelry and dinners out- very few moments will be spent celebrating the thorny business of human relationship. And yet, it is the thorny business that defines and shapes us much more than roses and chocolate and sweet poetic phrases delivered on a 4 X 6 piece of store-bought parchment. Why then, do we not celebrate these more shadowy sides of love?

In truth, we know, those of us lucky enough to have fallen flat on our faces at least once in our romantic history, that the deepest parts of ourselves – and not always the pretty parts- are displayed naked on the surgical table of intimacy. One could argue that the most challenging act in relationship is not that of witnessing our partner’s flaws, but in having our own mirrored so openly, with no room for escape. But when the thorn is removed and the pathway of the heart layed open…well, there is a rose of the sweetest variety. And often we feel most deeply loved right in the middle of that tangled-up, bloody mass of thorns and skin. Whether our partners, our children, our siblings or friends, the roses of relationship sustain us, but it is the thorns that hone us, and cause old married couples to declare that only after years and years of both, do they define themselves as truly “married”. Of course, marriage or no, that is the stuff of intimacy; year upon year of roses intermingled with some very important thorns.

So then, why not celebrate it all in the month ahead?, and claim the successful navigation through troubled waters as equal in value to the calm, languid hours afloat on balmy seas. After all, we are called to experience both if we are human and in love.

Introducing “Slant”!

Amy Carpenter launched her own blog as part of the Maine Beehive webpage. “Slant”, a series of reflective writings, will post throughout the year.

Thank you for checking out “Slant”. Below is a brief introduction, along with the first entry. Subsequent posts can be found on the entries tab under Reflections …happy reading.

Tell all the truth but tell it slant-

Success in Circuit lies

Too bright for our infirm Delight

The Truth’s superb surprise

As Lightning to the children eased

With explanation kind

The Truth must dazzle gradually

Or every man be blind-

-Emily Dickinson

“Slant” is an offering of written thought, meant to inspire other thoughts, similar or dissonant, from its readers. As Dickinson’s poem indicates, the entries are aimed at getting to a slant on truth valuable to modern day humans, particularly humans with a philosophical or decidedly questing spirit. If there is time enough, give it a read, if there is more time, give us your own thoughts along the way. Though slant is not meant to be conversational in the way of social media, it is meant to elicit reflection, which some may wish to share.

May the year ahead provide you with many optic moments of the spirit, whether adventure-seeking or in stillness. May we all give ourselves the luxury of being fully present to those moments, without agenda, so that we might just catch a glimpse of Truth’s “superb surprise”.

Warmest wishes,

Amy

A New Year

January, 2015, and it is as cold as it could be. We rush inside with our shoulders hunched up to our ears and I’ve taken to putting on my wind pants when I get out of bed in the morning, knowing that the upstairs will be frigid until the heater gets going…truly pathetic. Still, there is a clean starkness to the landscape and simplicity to the season: stay warm, linger indoors, drink tea, play at quiet things, contemplate.

Everything lies open at the beginning of a new year. The blue and yellow ripples of snow outside our window are like a tabula rasa, blank slate. What fragments of disappointment lay in the wake of the previous year now seem repairable, alterable. Equally so, the pivotal advancements we may have achieved, however large or small, now stand as testament to greater things to come, springboards to the next year’s destiny. Oh, the things we can accomplish! Oh the time that lies ahead!

Even if we are not the types to set a “resolution” for ourselves, there is a spirit to the new year that meets our individual souls head on, as if to say, “what shall we make of this? What shall we do?!”

January, though it is the coldest month imaginable in this part of the world, offers a most unique gift in this regard: we are allowed to start afresh, as clean and brisk as the blue snow and the bracing air. Even with the need for temperance (undoubtedly, we will know as well our sorrows and disappointments in the year to come), the newness clears a path of expectancy, a subtle opening as if we might just see a glimpse of the future if we look hard enough, plan prudently enough.

And yet we remember, with our hearty New England stoicism, that all this newness is held in the basket of deepest winter, where the snow and trees care not a whit for our endeavors, large or small. They care not whether we will even notice the silence that exists at the top of the needled pines, or the silver curve of the ice-laden birch tree. These natural wonders remind us that life is in and around our desires and hopes. Life is in the first touch of warm porcelain as our fingers wrap round our morning tea, or the sound of snow crunching beneath our feet as we race to warm up the car, shoulders hunched, wind pants on. Life in the small moments offers the greatest temperance of all. If we listen, we might hear whispered the call to return to our inner life, our contemplation, our more wild essence that gets revealed in the stillness. There, perhaps for only one delicious moment, we are that windy pine, that blue snow, and ultimately perfect just as we are.

-AC