On Witnessing Genius - A Love Letter

Growing up in the creative family who loved the arts, I was exposed at a young age to the concept of "genius" as being something that could be visited upon us. I grew up in a state of awe that has never left me. I can feel it anywhere, when looking at a snow covered pine through frozen eyelashes, or watching a glass blower at work, or being moved by a symphony. There can be, also, strings attached to witnessing genius at certain points along the way. Strings that pull our heads over to a mirror to see if we resemble the genius that we see. If we do not, ah, suffering! These strings arrive perniciously, and they need to be absolutely snipped.  I've figured out how, but it's going to take a lot more practice...

I went to Interlochen Arts Academy for my last year of high school, and it was really very challenging. There, I learned that I didn't know much about anything, but I was challenged and I learned a lot about poetry. I was also exposed to kids who had practiced their arts for their whole lives. I'll never forget being invited to a practice room to sit with a friend while she practiced her violin for hours, stopping only for pizza. If we look up the roots of the word "genius" in a dictionary , we will find the wonderful Latin word to mean "attendant spirit." Genius, therefore, is the brilliance that seems to accompany people along golden paths of accomplishment and glory.  Maybe it's the gleam of light that we perceive after burnishing an idea with passion and determination mixed that lead us to a point further along a path we embarked upon by choice.

What are the natures of our own paths? When we see someone doing something incredible - on youtube, facebook, in person within our fields of interest - that we cannot do, and may never be able to do, for any reason - how does it make us feel? I have a couple of great friends who are going through break ups right now, one of whom is so over social media generally. And I can see why.

Human accomplishments can be so inspiring, and/or discouraging, based on how we see them. They are slivers of light, flashes of brilliance that can belie more and also less than what they are, especially when we get tangled up in strings of attachment to being other than what we are. When I first went into massage, my friend Jian advised me to understand that if I were successful, others would go into massage, too, believing that they, too could do it. I felt indignant. "Wait a minute," I thought but did not say. "You're saying that if Lara can do it, anyone can do it?" I didn't like the sound of that. Gentle eyes, folks. That's where I was at in my practice at the time. I still struggle with self critical moments like this sometimes, but I do try much harder to be loving. Now that it has actually come to pass that someone has gotten into my field because, once I was nearly three years in, they saw that it had become sustainable for me, I now see what my friend Jian meant. We find our areas of expertise, and we can inspire from there. And there's always enough abundance in the universe to go around (the consciousness of scarcity is what creates greed, fear and the need to control, after all).  And I believe that we ought to move towards that which fascinates us and turns us on. Even if we never experience "genius," we'll still likely experience something special and unique, and it will change us for the better.

What of those fields of interest that we just wish to do, without knowing if we will ever taste a sense of excellence in them? What is the fascination with excellence, beyond being a motivator? Yoga headstands are very fun looking, yes. Being upside down is playful and brave. So is sharing a vulnerability and living through it. For those of us who battle severe physical and/or mental illness, just getting out of bed in the morning is laudable. Paying the bills on time is heroic, but so is being able to be still for just five minutes, or one, or training to run a 5K, or one, or growing the ability to not only exhibit but deeply feel constant love and compassion for people who seem to be endlessly employed in hurting us (while taking any and all necessary measures to prevent them from it).  Or some. (2018, lovelies. We've got this, in theory, but in reality we have to get it on purpose - call your congress people and tell them what you need).

We can seek out additional challenges for the benefits they bring, too. Playing an instrument or writing a book and being able to cultivate both the time and the drive to practice/write - not to mention a passel of other potential blessings, both structural and financial, these are very profound kinds of blessings too.

In my Universe, most people seem to be able to find their gratitude, even in the midst of tragedy. We genuinely seem to know that we have lots of blessings. I know I do. Blessings didn't always seem to outnumber tragedies, but they were enough in the end (insert due and sincere acknowledgement of incredibly and undeniably white privilege here). Still, you couldn't pay me with money or youth to go back and learn that (expletive) all over again. I think I must have opted to endure near unendurable obstacles for a time just to burn off my karma, ASAP. And now, I have enough mileage in me so I can help those who are going through or have been through things I've experienced, those who allow me to support them (a highest honor).

I also get to take guitar lessons, and I have time to practice. Life is good. However, some people have been playing since they were eight, fifteen, and five. Not thirty-eight, as I was when I started a year ago.

Today, I witnessed a video by the lovely Gohar Vardanyan. In it, she plays a ten minute piece by one of my favorite composers for the classical guitar. Her genius is clear, and shows in her focus. She has this very long piece memorized, and she plays it with beautiful expression. She's better than perfect. She's sincere and fueled by an obvious passion. It's absolutely delicious and it's totally out of my reach (unless someone finds me a practice room and leaves me there for ten years, feeds me catered vegan meals every day, never lets me do anything else, and also can keep me from exacting my revenge, despite the catered vegan meals (fat chance)).  

Ms. Vardanyan is amazing. If you would like to see her in this very long piece by Fernando Sor, click here.

Sometimes it's hard for me not to dearly wish to be able to do that which I see is possible - at least by someone - to be experienced. What keeps me going is my desire for desires. I want, ultimately, only to feel, to understand through feeling. And that I can do at any stage of a journey.

There is no goal but the practice, and the present practice is all that we ever have. And that's how I cut the strings of attachment to being better than I am. It's a good practice. For me, it's not a simple one.

I hope everyone has/had a lovely winter hibernating and growing and learning too. In Michigan there isn't really much else to do. It was zero degrees out there this morning! My husband and I will be going cross country skiing again this weekend. It's going to be good, healthy fun, and my eyelashes will probably freeze together again. "There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, there is society where none intrude..." - Lord Byron

Lots of love. Lara

P.S. Full disclosure: even though my cat died over the holiday and it was a hospice situation at home and I truly had too much to do (over a month long break in lessons) to practice my guitar until this week, I'm still going to go to my guitar lesson tonight. Grateful that I practiced ahead a long time ago, and hopeful that it was enough so that I don't get fired as a student.

P.P.S. My guitar teacher is a really great teacher. I see him every two weeks, generally, and I can vouch that he's not creepy (oh so important factor, that), and he is an amazing guitarist, and most importantly to me, he's a truly fine teacher who can meet me where I'm at. Highly, highly recommend him as as guitar teacher. And highly recommend, also, this album. Peace.

On Gratitude, and Filling One's Cup

Here is a simple exercise that I practice, just to check in with myself: Make a mental picture of a peaceful place. For me, in my practice, I often visualize an ocean. All that space, filled with water and sky. What colors are in the water? What colors are in the sky? It can be anything! Take a deep breath in and out and feel the gratitude that it is there, singing up the spine and down the arms, igniting the heart center, the throat. Peace from the core to the fingertips and toes. That's it, that's the exercise. Instant joy.

But the kicker is that this exercise comes less naturally to me when I need to fill my cup - my ocean seems less full of vitality, sun sparkles, and abundance. It's harder to see, and harder to feel my gratitude. What I see may look more like a desert than an ocean. No giant, iridescent sea lilies would grow in it easily. This is when I know that I need to do those things which make my soul sing, so that my smile is ready and bright, so that I can continue to hold space for others.

And so this weekend has been less goal oriented, and more about following whatever I've wanted to do, without questioning it. Just wandering through my weekend, welcoming adventures. I found myself honoring various agreements, but slowly, and gently. I whimsically made a bouquet of freshly trimmed and fragrant juniper boughs. I went to Pho On The Block (newish restaurant in the Edison neighborhood) for a late lunch. Later, as the light grew longer and more concentrated, I went down to the garden on a mission, and was instead invited to visit a dear young woman and her three week old baby, fresh from heaven. Back at home, I had found myself going through my cookbooks. I found my old blue book that was my Busia's ("Busia" is Polish for grandmother). I found a simple recipe for dill pickles, in her hand. I smiled and tucked it back. Later, I watched "Boy" and "One Mississippi" with my husband, with a big pot of herbal tea, and a quietly purring cat on my lap. Before bed, I read a book, just for fun.

I was rewarded last night with a dream about my grandmother, now long gone. I only saw her hands, peeling and dividing an orange. She gave me a big glowing piece of it, and it was so sweet. It made me miss her as I haven't missed her in years. I woke up with tears, and joy. I have my gratitude, pouring through my being like clear springs roiling down a green mountain. Peace.

I hope everyone has a happy and fulfilling Sunday today. Lots of love.

New Rhythm

The Rhythm of Nature 

           It’s been a rainy, wild, warm and wet summer so far, and I have acquired some new tools along the way since I last wrote here.  And I want to share - as daunting as that is, when the planet turns so many times and bring as many changes - so much.  So much has blossomed and unfolded in the past three years, in both my practice and personal life.  Wintertime has ruled with its icy fingers, and cozy dark evenings spent with tea and cats began just as dark in the wee hours, shuffling off - this past Winter - into frozen January mornings, only to be brightened by candles and swept clean with the scent of sage at Kara’s 6 a.m. Yoga Warriors classes, where the benefits were so clear to me that I signed up to follow her to a week long yoga retreat called “Reclaim Your Rhythm” on the beautiful island of Vieques, off of Puerto Rico, practicing and offering my heart to the experience and the rhythms of nature… With no hesitation, I highly recommend retreats with Kara Aubin.  She thinks of all the things and what doesn't go as planned turns into magical unplanned experiences, because that's living in the rhythm of nature.  Sharing that with my husband made coming home to Michigan that much sweeter, and upon our return the early March moon shone full and cold, but we had watched it wax from a warm place… and so I wasn’t at all surprised when, eventually, the ice began to melt into the earth and make its way into the roots of spring trees and flowers; the days grew warmer, and now the neighborhood poppies have come and gone in a scatter of fire engine red petals over crumbling sidewalks wet with rain.  Remember when all those flowering trees dropped their petals into the swirling breezes?  Now, as we are several weeks into the jungly lushness of summer, I find it taken us in stride, and although we never could catch up with it on our own, it will take us along with it nonetheless.  All I need to do is to submit to the offerings of each day, and be present for the ride. 

          One of the things that slows down the days and brings me the most joy right now, and helps me maintain a connection to the rhythms of nature (while living so close to the heart of downtown), is a 55' x 60' empty lot down the street, upon which was once a house, but where still remains a grand old Walnut tree, and a shed that half belongs to the house next to the lot.  There, my husband and I started a garden.  It's on the corner of Rose and Wall Street, a lot left empty by the removal of a house that had been condemned for lead).  After the Land Bank approved our application to make a green space out of it, we began to lease it, annually, for just 20.00 a year, and in Spring 2016 we invited and worked with other residents of our street and the Vine Neighborhood to plant 500.00 worth of native plants (that had been granted to us via a passionate group of Monarch butterfly enthusiasts called “Wild Ones).”  Everything in that garden that is large (the bluestone path, the benches, the solar post lights, and the fieldstone retaining wall) was given to us to install or arrange to have installed, in a city where it seems all dreams of improvement can be fulfilled.  

          I recently applied to register the lot as a nationally certified (I found out, “extra-large!”) Monarch butterfly way station.  The certifying authority, Monarch Watch, approved it and sent us a lovely sign to put up there.  It is an ongoing goal to keep it all looking civilized, intentional, and nurtured.  Although butterflies need dense plantings for shelter from the elements and predators, that doesn't mean we need to let weeds grow there.  It's tricky enough to grow field flowers in a garden without letting invasive grasses, horse nettle, and other demons in.  Some of the things we planted last year flowered for the first time this past spring, and three species of milkweed have filled in quite a bit in such a short time.  The compass flowers - several of about twenty - zoomed up from the ground early, and they are eight feet tall!  And their roots go twenty feet deep!  Next summer I hope they line the entire split rail fence on the west side of the lot.  Sometimes neighbors come and help us weed, for whom we are so grateful, and there are moments when there is laughter, and shared moments of peace, and bright jangly moments when souls collide there, and it all shakes out to grins and laughter, or shares and space holding.  It's meaningful to live in this community.  When I get to see someone’s grandchild who was just a newborn six years ago, or when I get to see a sixteen year old (who used to be shorter than me) come by to show off his little three year old nephew, smiling serenely in the balmy green glow of summer, or just when someone walking by hollers out a joyful "good morning/evening!" or “looking good!” and smiles, someone to wave at as they go by.  And I love it when people come to talk to me as I weed, even if they can't get in the dirt with me at the moment.  

         There are evenings when I’ve been in the dirt since I got home, and it’s almost the gloaming hour, when the sun has gone down but left everything still shimmering with a bit of light shining through and over it all, so we’re all glowing, too, people and homes and the very earth we stand in, and a breeze moves through the old Walnut tree on the corner, and the wind chimes play low and soft, and the tall stalks of flowers and grasses sway, and the dozens of fireflies, who have been waiting there, take some unseen cue from their own sense of rhythm, and all rise up at once to begin their quiet visual symphony of lights.  It is enough to break my heart, in the best of ways.  

          If you are interested in flowers and or butterfly gardens and what kinds of native flowers grow well in Michigan, and would like to see images from this garden, we have a Facebook page here, in the hopes that it might show a little of what it is to be there.  Feel free to like it, and you'll receive an image, now and again, of a flower or a butterfly in your feed.  And I would be happy to give anyone a tour of the garden or share what I can over the phone.  We only update that page every couple or few weeks, typically - we’d love it to generate interest in monarchs and nature and community and beauty.  

New Therapies Nurture 

          The style of a lifelong learner can’t ever remain the same.  And we are all students on this earth, and so we continue to blossom and unfold in this wild world full of love and loss, of holding on and letting go, of pain, and of healing.  I know how blessed I am to be able to journey together with other beings in support those things that they most want to do and to become.  I often have the honor of seeing them glow too, and it’s every bit as sweet to see as any other garden in the this whole big world filled with effort and realization.  And sometimes, that time on the table can help us to let go of things that we no longer need to carry, and I get to support truly heroic efforts to begin to release these things, overtime, opening like a baby fern (we called them fiddleheads growing up) unfurls and lengthens, where it once was curled up tight in the bud.  

         It’s absolutely no wonder that massage therapists are in the top ten most satisfied professions!  We are reminded, daily, that we are all capable of change and growth, and we get to help people feel better, and be the best versions of themselves that they can be!  And, also like the butterfly garden, that needs not only sun and rain and balance, but also the support of many - it takes a village or a team of people to make something beautiful grow; as humans, we simply weren’t meant to do all of the work alone.  

         It is five years ago on August 1, that I registered my DBA (doing business as) with the county clerk, and began to devote myself full time to the practice of massage and integrative bodywork.  Although I hadn't had to work during my thirteen month program, and had practiced and volunteered as much as I possibly could, relatively few people knew what I wished to offer.  Even then, I felt a deep willingness to commit to and to attract people to my practice who were interested in utilizing massage as a part of their ongoing self care routines, and I held space for that commitment, and that is exactly the blessing that I am grateful for today.  Because we all grow and change over time, I am always listening for new or new-to-me therapies that may be of benefit to the ever growing, ever changing souls that I continue to have the honor to support over time.  Some of these therapies I pick up as opportunities arise, either for fun (such as Indian Head Massage!) or because someone I am about to see is about to benefit from it, such as Active Isolated Stretching (Mattes’ method).  I truly believe that in any class there is always something that can be adopted or adapted, and some branches of modalities of bodywork have a nearly limitless branching out of coursework to study.  

Two Paths Diverge

          One particularly lovely branch of bodywork that provides coursework that is much more involved than others that I have seen, requires a deeper commitment to master and to become interwoven into my personal style of integrative bodywork.  And so I remain  deeply connected to Craniosacral Therapy, and find that it resonates with me spiritually, as well - breathing and meditation techniques that place our attention in the spine, sensing the cranial rhythm in stillness... more on that later.  My latest CST course was with Maggie Gill in Chicago, in Somato Emotional Release - she came all the way from Brighton, England to teach us, and she was amazing.  Funny, bright, and profoundly compassionate.  I have a feeling that I will do well to follow her in the future.  And, frankly, I'd love any excuse to see Brighton again.  I love cities with piers and Indian restaurants and amazing teachers in them.    

          Because Myofascial Release has also been a major influence in my (integrative bodywork) practice - it is in my hands and bodywork every day - and because I have completed some continuing education units/coursework with its founder, John Barnes, I feel I should mention it here, however I may only visit future MFR seminars and coursework from time to time.  I am a quick study, and have no wish to take their first three classes over again, as they have recently begun to demand of all of their students, as a way of assessing their grasp of the material.  It seems to me that there has got to be a better way of evaluating understanding and until there is, I’m not interested in spending more valuable resources (and oh so precious time) on retaking completely identical courses again, as I do not believe it will be of any significant benefit my clients.  On the contrary, when I leave to take a class, my clients have to do without me, and I have to be very particular about when and how I take time for CEU's.  This development in the MFR world has served to more deeply devote my energies to the continued study and practice of Craniosacral Therapy, and Dr. Upledger’s Institute, upon which (my research has revealed) Myofascial Release was founded.  

The Importance of Support

          With a variety of other modalities that may show up in a session, even those who see me every month or every two weeks may have opportunities, each time, to experience some new unwinding, unfolding, or blossoming/opening of energy and life-force in their own bodies as I allow my hands to be intuitively guided by their inner wisdom, and a focus on their highest good.  As difficult as it sometimes is to accept, we can let go of what no longer serves us - of we have been holding onto for a day, a week, a month, or even years.  In my experience, with support, we can do more work and with more efficacy than on our own.  Support is one of the things to which my practice is most dedicated, and I’m always happy to try new ways to support any letting go that a client is ready to do - releasing of tension, and/or of thoughts or practices that no longer serve, stepping outside of a life in order to re-enter it with a renewed and restored sense of wholeness.  I've been finding some great sources of support and I'm excited to share more as our journeys may help others, too.   

Sound Therapy: An Emergent Field 

          One of the newer therapies that my clients have been enjoying (as they are open to trying it) is a taste of Sound Therapy integrated into the beginning, middle, and/or end of their sessions.  Sound Therapy is an emerging field of stress reduction therapy that promotes profound relaxation and deep healing. As I acquire new skills and instruments under the guidance of Julie Chase (of Wind Willow Sound Health, LLC), I am witnessing not only deep healing in my own body, but in my clients.  Many of the instruments are Tibetan in origin, such as singing bowls, gantas and dorjes, and they are sacred and have viewed as such for as long as 2,000 years or more.  Other kinds of instruments, such as tuning forks and chimes, have been created with the purpose of producing different effects and benefits for our physical, mental and spiritual states of being, and I am beginning to unearth information regarding the paths of the instruments’ creations and uses, both new and old.  It is my intention to elucidate here how these instruments work, and why and how sound therapy can be used for deep healing and restoration.  

          Please feel free to stay tuned for more information about the therapies into which I am continuing to more deeply explore.  Profound physical healing through sound therapy was a major catalyst for my undertaking to learn more about it.  I will certainly share that experience soon.  And if I am inspired to bring singing bowls down to the butterfly garden, and to play them there, perhaps I will be able to report back right here what that was like.  

 Peace to you, on your journey.  Peace to me, on mine.  And may I only contribute to the highest good of the world, out of the overflow of abundant light within me.  And may you continually receive all the support and space you need to keep your cup full as well.  Namaste.  

Is April the Cruelest Month?

It's April 15th and all of my daffodils are filled with snow, bowing their golden heads down and waiting to rise again into the warmth and sweetness of sunlight, with the rest of us.

Ever since I began to plan my transition into Down Dog Yoga Center, I have had lots of lists of things needed; picking out frangipane and sage as my paint colors was the first thing, and I brought my biggest and heaviest massage table, of course, and even invested in a new bookshelf, and a nice chair for my clients to settle into and have a cup of tea, if they want, before receiving a massage.  However, the one thing that I have quietly and eagerly waited to do happened yesterday.  I've been open for two weeks and gave 13 sessions last week alone, but I knew that my vision would only be complete when I could bring a flower from my yard and place it in a little vase in the therapy room for my clients to enjoy.  And so it was that as I was leaving for 9:00 a.m. session yesterday, I noticed that the daffodils had arrived.

So, even though the snow arrived under a pink moon last night, there was one bright daffodil that I managed to save, and to bring to my new therapy room yesterday.  As I walked from my car with it in the grey light of morning it shone as if lit from within, and it is currently standing proud and strong in a little antique blown glass bud vase that I found while garage sailing with my Busia (Polish for grandmother) twenty years ago (and yes, I know "sailing" is a funny way to put it but it kind of felt like sailing, riding around with my Busia in her big old burgundy Buick, searching for treasures in the springtime).

T.S. Eliot said: April is the cruelest month.*  Besides the Springtime tidings of renewal that April brings, we may also be vividly reminded of past loved ones who have passed away, of beautiful moments that will never again shine on the altars of our present lives.  Lilacs will ever remind me of just two days of one Springtime many years ago, after I and a number of other students had overwintered in a barely insulated cottage while at college in Southampton, Long Island.  We lived on the edge of a nature preserve and could see deep blue waters on the horizon from the second story, and lilacs seemed to be growing under every window, and the ocean breeze (and honestly, my own hands) bore the lilacs into our rooms and hearts and turned everything softly purple like a new dawn.  At the time I was planning on going to India and my friends were gathered together in a house filled with memories for the last time ever, and I'm so glad to have that memory nestled in my heart, which has grown big with memories and love intermingled.   T.S. Eliot was not the only one to make this connection between Spring time and mourning - also Walt Whitman's poem comes to mind, "When lilacs last in the door yard bloom'd."**

Today, I remember very much the Easter lilies that my uncle, Joe, always bought for my Busia.  He was her only surviving son of four (sons).  Every year she would set out her Ukrainian painted Easter eggs and the lilies would weigh down the lace covered corner of her dining room table in her tiny house, in front of lace curtains.  The sun would dance through the opened windows and lightly moving curtains, causing beautiful patterns to dance on and around the powerful Easter lilies, who would only sigh their sweet aromatherapy into the living room and kitchen on either side of them.  It has been several years since Busia's passing, that great lady who built the strongest connections with everyone who loved her. The bitter sting of loss has abated over the past couple of years, while I remember her with respect and love. I think it is fitting that I brought my little bud vase - which she once encouraged me to purchase with my hard earned dusting money - to work.

One of my clients yesterday was feeling sad, because someone she loved very much had passed away a year ago that day.  Although my support was virtually wordless, I was listening, and I did my best to hold the space for her with love and deep understanding in my soul.  She loved the daffodil so much, and even found a way to laugh in the midst of her sadness.  She inspired me so very much that day.

We Michiganders are a resilient bunch, and we know that we can't have light without darkness, and we can't have love without loss.  But true loss, the loss of a loved one, is possibly the worst thing that can happen to anyone.  Awful cold weather and scraping our cars off mid-April doesn't make anything easier, and for moments April really is the cruelest month, bringing with it a deluge of snow and sadness.  But in the end, this little snowscape will do nothing to stop us from collectively smiling even brighter, and opening our souls to new memories even as we honor the old.
                                                                             
                                                                                   ***

I heard the most beautiful piece of music on the radio the other day, called Musica Celeste.  It is played on strings without pausing, with the effect of giving us just a taste of the Infinite.  The program brought tears to my eyes, it was so beautiful!  Here is a link to it, I heard just moments of it while driving, en route from watching the demolition of a condemned house and while going back to work.  If you have even one or two minutes only, you can taste it here:

http://performancetoday.publicradio.org/display/programs/2014/04/14/

In my search for that piece of music this morning, I ended up on the phone with the director of WMUK, and I explained (a little awkwardly) that I am a massage therapist looking for beautiful and meaningful classical music for my sessions, and I asked him for his personal ideas of classical music that might be calming and relaxing in the therapy room (I have so much modern massage music but sometimes people ask me for more classical, and it's hard to find calm classical music as classical music is often so passionate and loud!  Cannonballs and cymbals and tubas, oh, my!).  ...And so through this kindly and calm voiced gentleman I found Massanet, Arvo Part, and John Tavener (two John Taveners a few hundred years apart actually).  I got off of the phone and added it all to my collection, because life does continue to expand and I want to be open to that.  I didn't catch his name and I didn't give him mine, but I'm so grateful to him for sharing his thoughts. One never knows what another person might want to hear on the massage table.

See you soon - in the sunlight!

*Reference to The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot, found here:  http://www.bartleby.com/201/1.html
**Reference to a poem by Walt Whitman, found here: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174748

April 6th, 2014

Relocation with Gratitude

Happy Spring!  

I spent a good part of yesterday hanging pictures with my husband at my new therapy room, at Down Dog Yoga Center!  I've relocated my massage practice - although I am still giving my Wednesdays to a local spa and salon to help them with the transition, I will soon be available six days - rather than just five - at Down Dog Yoga Center.  Please see my home page of my website for more information!  

After practicing in my home office - first as a student, and then as a certified practitioner, and as of March 2013 as a licensed practitioner - for a total of three years, and at a local salon for over a year, I have spent the past week moving my practice into a therapy room of my very own at the new Down Dog Yoga Center! 

Down Dog Yoga Center is ten walkable/cyclable blocks from my home in the Vine Neighborhood, which makes me feel more rooted than ever. I have completed this business transition only with the blessing of my sacred community, and so I must give thanks to my wonderful experiences at Sangha Yoga, teachers Karina Ann Mirsky, Jerry Givens, Anne Beattie, Marne (her Candlelight Yoga is amazing!), Kama Mitchell, Jessica Grosel, and so many others at Sangha, and also to Gina Green (my first certified hatha yoga teacher!), and many, many others whose work helped to guide me to the present moment, and to my childhood spiritual guides for helping me find my way into the last several years, which have been powerful and wonderful.

Teachers at Down Dog Yoga Center whose work I can already speak to are Kristin Fiore, Suzie Batdorff, and Kyle Thompson.  I look forward to continuing to take many more classes from our beautiful yoga community and to be able to share my favorite aspects of them.  It means a lot to me to be able to share some of my favorite aspects of my life right here.  Thank you!  

Great Fruit! Hell Hath No Fury (Speaking of Pomegranates), and More

Great Fruit!  

It's been a long time since my last post, and that is because everything that I wanted and more came to fruition.  All of the dreams posted last January merged or metamorphosed into bigger dreams, and generally became more fruit-like and less dried seed.  Especially the dream to WORK HARDER.  Boy howdy, did that dream turn into a gigantic pomegranate.  A delicious and intimidating thing to approach, but there I was, eating up ideas, like ruby red juice filled pomegranate seeds, and getting more deeply committed to nearly everything in which I became involved.

Business is...

Booming!  Well, kind of, that's kind of true.  And it's kind of not true, too.  It's all perspective, all ebb and flow.  I was very busy in the months leading up to the Christmas season, but now things have calmed a bit and I'm trying to figure out what it is that I should be doing during this lull.  How can I work up to my goal, of serving 15-20 clients per week?  Because for this massage therapist, that would be full-time.  The time I put into each session before and after (SOAP charting and planning potential next steps), the studying and research that I do, the marketing (my weakest point), classes, etc. amounts to that number of clients being very important to my role as a support.  

A local business owner - who is a sweetheart with a highly successful and time-honored massage therapy practice - kindly advised me to always remember to take careful stock of my overhead, or the funds that I need to pay out in order to keep my business going, and to use that knowledge to help me breathe.  She said that in her experience, looking at that number and knowing she was floating was enough for her to trust that it would unfold, things continued to fall into place.  Another very established practitioner told me that I was going to be O.K., and to trust in the Universe.  So, I admit it, even though I have so much for which to be grateful, I'm still needing to remind myself to just be in the present and trust.  I'm still learning trust as an intentional practice.  But Trust is earned, right?  But it would be silly not to trust at this point.  I bet I could write down a thousand reasons to be grateful, right now, without lifting pen from paper to pause for more than a few breaths.  But that doesn't mean that I don't occasionally look upon the deeps that I've fabricated so well and tense up just a little bit, like a little ship bracing for a hurricane that doesn't exist.  Right at this moment, I'm floating, and reaching up into the clouds, and for a minute there, I felt a little like flying, but all it takes is the sight of sparkling waves to make me feel that way.  

A great teacher named Mansi once told me, when you raise a sail, you have to deepen a keen.  I'm still mulling over that.   

In October, I was so happy when I was in South Bend for a three day weekend learning practical applications of Myofascial Release (John Barnes).  I remember walking through a skyway from my hotel on the way to class and thinking that this learning, this deepening of knowledge and practice of support is what it's all about.  And the Thai dinner with three other massage therapists from other states, sharing ideas and supporting each other, that was just a treat.  I miss it and hope to attend the next workshop of that ilk in August, if I can afford it.  However, there are some great massage therapists in this fair city, and I am delighted to be growing alongside them.  

Also, there are small business taxes... this tax season I completed my first full year of business and so taxes are truly daunting right now, and I'm learning how to perhaps keep better books than before.  

Expansion

I need to give a shout out to the Notawasseppi Huron Band of the Potawatomi - by stating that after volunteering for them for a little bit there, they hired me, and they were very generous, and as my last post so long ago spoke of how fulfilling it was for me to volunteer with them, I feel I should also share that I was in the end most generously paid for my efforts.  

I have been working at local spa - last spring, I began renting a space at Sheri's Fine Salon and Spa on Gull Rd.  I met Sheri through Frankie Holzbach, who with Sue Jones taught a fascinating five week course in the medicinal properties and potential contraindications of essential oils.  The expansion has been great for business, as I ended up nearly doubling the amount of sessions that I gave at my home therapy room last year.  I gave just over 140 sesssions last year, though my client base has remained small and close to my heart.  

I'm still working out of both places.  I have remained the only (licensed) massage therapist at Sheri's, and the room has been occupied by none but me, so it's lovely to have that space and keep the energy the way that feels right to me.  If there were more clients than I could handle, I could only share a room with someone who shared my energy and respect for the space.  The only challenging thing about practicing in two places is that I have to carrry everything with me, not only my SOAP charting and books and resources for my clients, but also my essential oils and product list of organic and healthy creams, lotions, and carrier oils, and of course my music, and square reader, because I also still practice at home, and I prefer to have all of that with me when I give a session.  I have developed the simplest of systems to aid me in this constant endeavor, and it involves many small bags going into a larger bag.  Once in awhile, I forget something.  

Hell Hath No Fury (Speaking of Pomegranates)

A little off topic here, but I made mention of pomegranates earlier, and certainly I am not alone in that I can't eat a pomegranate without thinking of the Greek myth of Persephone, who ate pomegranate seeds and became somehow bound by this act to leave the earth and spend part of each year with Hades (who managed the mythical Greek underworld).  In one story, her mother Demeter was so upset by this abduction that she drew her soft white mantle over the Earth and fell asleep, awaiting her daughter's return.  Ah, pretty, sparkling snow... In another story, Demeter simply refused to let anything grow as long as her daughter was in the underworld (Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned).  And so the earth began to grow cold, and it went on for just too long, and eventually, Hades had to let Persephone the Pomegranate Eater go back up for the better part of each year, and that's when Spring arrived, and why, ancient Greeks reasoned, it continues to follow Winter.  Either way, I think Persephone's story is a representation of budding, growth, harvest, and rest (among other things) and it occurs to me that this Winter we've been given here in southwestern Michigan, so wild and full and furiously driven, has given me the gift of time, for the moment in fact, I'm snowed in without my snowshoes.  

Spring is Coming

I remember when Winter Was Coming, and I had to stop watching "Game of Thrones" because the White Walkers were just waaaaaaay too much for me.  I also had to stop blogging, even though people seemed to like it.  I just didn't hardly know what to say.

"Wordly power mean nothing.  Only the unsayable, jeweled inner life matters."  - Rumi

Hopefully I will be better about keeping this blog updated, struggling with the fact that vulnerability is a tough thing to share.  That, however, is probably not what Rumi meant by "unsayable." Hmmm...

What Dreams Made Come

Although it seems really unheard of now, dreams of last year - of merely planting the beautiful Virginian "Painted Lady" or "Sweet Pea" on a trellis - seemed, for a minute in March, to have manifested - if not in the flowering of that actual seed - as an opportunity to move to Virginia within a month of that post, of which we had no inkling before.  I brought a couple of rocks back from a hike we took off of the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia, and prayed for my husband Paul to get the job, at least just because clearly he would be an asset and I would hate to see him get turned down, and he was offered the job, but it wasn't right for him, and in the end, we chose to stay and to put our roots in deeper into Kalamazoo.  We are officially not stuck here.  We like living here, and are so invested here, and it is because leaving would not be the right thing to do that it would be difficult.  I believe that any major move has to have passion behind it.  Otherwise it's just awful.  And the moral of the story is, I'll be very careful when I order seeds next month!  Native flowers only!  I'm kidding, mostly.  Not one-hundred-percent-ly.  What is certain is that we are happy here, and we have come to realize that Kalamazoo has everything we want to support, and everything we need to be supported, and we like running into good souls everywhere here, just by taking a walk downtown.    

Volunteering 

Oh!  Grace Hospice!  I was working to get orientated into Grace Hospice last I wrote, mentioned that I had to take two TB tests and a drug test and never blogged since then.  Passed the tests of course, became a volunteer, and in July even took the TB test(s) again to satisfy some bureaucratic issue they were having, and generally I became fully orientated... and eventually, decided not to do that anymore.  That said, volunteering for Grace Hospice was fulfilling at points, and some very affirming moments, however I never could seem to be able to give as much time to it as was necessary for me to give to feel invested in their program, so last Fall while in between patients I finally admitted - to myself and to them - my express need to stop volunteering there.  The experience and the training were invaluable, and I met some wonderfully spiritual people, and got to be a part of the dying process and to give adaptive massage in the form of Comfort Touch and Geriatric Massage.  I got to share knowledge and write extensively about this type of massage as Grace had not offered massage in an organized way before, and this was a new branch for the national corporation.  I learned that I am comfortable and grounded with the process of grieving, death and dying, and I'm happy to really know solidly that I can work with the dying.  And, I think it will be something that I pick up again when I am not dancing into so many circles.  And I just don't know when that will be.  I've seen dancers in their 90's... In the end, I must admit that I had a feeling it wasn't the right space for me, for the long run, but listening to that inner voice is to take some more practice, perhaps. 

And, I found Open Doors.  

http://www.opendoorskalamazoo.org/

Open Doors is a ministry in our community that helps people find the ground, get back on their feet and begin to realize their potential, and it works.  Once per month for the past year and a half, my neighbor Katie and I have worked together to prepare a homecooked meal for our local women's shelter, accommodating from 3-10 women at Next Door, which is an affiliate of Open Doors.  I can think of no worthier cause and I'm thrilled that Katie found it so many moons ago.  Options for volunteering included tutoring, renovating and/or painting houses, cooking, etc.  Cooking for (and sometimes, with) the ladies at Next Door has become my favorite volunteer opportunity ever.  To make a home cooked meal with love, and then to get to sit with the ladies and enjoy this meal together, is a sacred honor, and quite a lot of fun.  They're wonderful souls, brilliant, and alive with the desire to grow.  They all work so very hard.  No one works harder than them, that's for sure.  One can not attempt a more Herculean feat than to change, to let go of what doesn't serve us, and to grow stronger and in time, happier.  These ladies have inspired me every month.  I believe that growing - and changing into what we are meant to be - takes great courage, and requires the ability to know and accept where we are calling from.  That's the kind of power that these women exemplify, time after time, and that's what Next Door supports.

Volunteering in the Vine

Since my last post, my garden was planted in curved raised beds, but the Sweet Peas never came up.  I learned how to make strawberry jam thanks to a neighbor, and my street was - by the power of community - lit up by the raising (and electric wire burying) of beautiful post-lanterns with colorfully individualized, resident chosen stained glass (Kokomo glass) panels.  Thanks first and foremost to funding from the Vine Neighborhood Association and the LISC foundation, and the months of work grant writing (we got rejected at a banquet once, and that was disappointing but a good experience) and door knocking, and thanks also to resident and volunteer support.  Thanks to Frank and Mary at Peepers Stained Glass - bless their hearts - who cut all the glass for us and were really helpful, donating a lot of their time.  It made it more complicated, but people really liked being able to pick out their own colors to express their own individual tastes.  People joked it would look a "candy-cane lane," but at night, the lights are bright enough so that they don't look very different from one another - and by day they proudly display their art glass colors.  Ours is textured, and streaked with purple and cream!  The togetherness of the work days - as well as the unification that is represented by the lights - that is why it was a community project - we worked together, and got to know each other even better, and we showed that we can do strong things together, and we can defend our street when we need to.  Also thanks to Building Blocks for initially pulling Paul and I in and showing us that "here" is a place of tremendous potential for growth, "here" is a great place to be.  Also thanks to volunteer labor, licensed electrician Todd Urness, and contractor Rob Barnard, and Kim Cummings, who has taught me to always look for an Other way to do things, and pretty much, to never to accept impossibility as an option when people's lives can be improved. 

After resting on our laurels for a few months (we were tired!) during which time our donated meeting place turned into an rented apartment with a new great neighbor,  we took to hosting monthly neighborhood meetings at my home, which makes more sense anyway.  Once the snow melts, please venture out to see what new things we're doing to revitalize our street!  There are resources out there to help us grow our dreams, possibly due to the new medical school going up by the Alamo Drafthouse Theater, and the new Wellness and Sustainability campus going up on the Crosstown.  And the lovely Vine Neighborhood awaits its future breathlessly.  It's an old neighborhood with a history of beauty and art and truth, and I love it because it is one of the most real and striving places I have ever seen.    

MBLEX
I passed the MBLEX.  The Massage and Bodyworks Licensing Examination.  I passed it, and got my license.  Last March.  That's it for now.

Dreaming

I am dreaming of more pomegranate seeds, and less prose.

2/22/13

The beautiful Potawatomi, Lemon Water, Gardening, and Yoga

I very much enjoyed volunteering chair massage at Firekeeper's Casino, which was a special event in many ways.  It was a Red Dress Event with a signature power; fifty tribal members and various health care booths and a luncheon begun with an elder and a young man drumming and singing prayers of gratitude together, and the incredible warmth and purity of it all was profoundly moving.  That was, however, twenty days ago, and it's no longer present for me, though I was invited to help out with another Potawatomi Indian event in April.  What is most present for me as of this day is all the seeds I ordered for my garden.  

Gardening Through The Dragon's Gate

Thus is the the title of a book that I read that convinced me to make some soil beds that are curved and rounded.  Each year the shape of my garden changes, from an arial view.  This is my fourth year with our back yard, urban garden.  

Although most of the seeds that I plant are productive edibles, I always succumb to a little bit of whimsy when browsing a seed catalogue... Tangerine Gem marigolds took me in this year, with their light yellow ruffly delicate edibleness, for some reason, I was very drawn to the non-edible flower called "Painted Lady" (looks like a Sweet Pea) flower.  It reads: "Cultivated since the 1730's, Jefferson grew these deliciously fragrant, pink and what bicolor flowers at Monticello.  Plant on a trellis near your doorway to enjoy the scent as you pass by.  Prefers cool spring weather and mild coastal climates."  Oh, I know I live in Michigan and there's nothing mild or coastal about us... still, I couldn't resist the thought of Paul walking by them on his way to work, or coming home to them.  If the Painted Ladies, there will be some heavenly blues and bright pinks to back them up in the form of Morning Glory and Clematis.  

Lemon Water for Health

That said, for the past two mornings I've been drinking a cup of hot lemon water before my morning coffee, and finding the effects to be very interesting.  Here is an article about the effects of lemon water: 

http://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-4769/Why-You-Should-Drink-Warm-Water-Lemon.html

In my body, it seems to cleanse not only my teeth and tongue, like a mouthwash or gargle, but it's more like a great fresh warm river of cleansing lemony goodness flowing through me and nurturing my digestive system and my morning all at once.  This river slows and pools a little in the stomach as it continues through, and I imagine that it's pulling out stagnation from deep within my face.  That's kind of a nice way to wake up in the morning.  

Massage Therapy and Hospice Care

We finally finished the work that we set out to do on our kitchen, and I've begun the volunteering process to provide massage therapy services at a new Hospice care facility in Kalamazoo.  This is a nice organization and the people who I've met who work there are amazing.  I've been going through their orientation via hours of reading articles and watching Dvd's about dying and Alzheimer's and boundaries and hands-on work, and I'm very excited to soon be able to help provide comfort to people who are in their last phase of life.  Easing suffering is ultimately what I want to do with massage, and this is what I interpret Hospice care to be.  I just handed in a huge stack of things I needed to read and sign and on Monday I'll go to Borgess Hospital and get my tests taken (TB and drug test) and I'm considering getting a Hep B vaccination since it's offered, as I want to continue in the health care vein.  What I want to do, ultimately, is to provide massage to home-bound people, and also to do some light cleaning and cooking/errand running for them.  Also I'm hoping to find some part time massage therapy work in a chiropractor's office and in a physiatrist's office.  These are my dreams!  These and planting sweet peas.  

Yoga

Going to Power Yoga today at Sangha Yoga, and very much looking forward to that.  My home practice varies from 15-45 minutes a day, and I really love attending a class now and again to help me think about my yoga practice in new ways.  I can finally stand on my palms without bending my knees, but it's seldom that I can rise properly into high plank position from low plank position on the floor.  I would do yoga simply because I enjoy feeling amazing in the morning, and it means more to me than that.  Yoga helps me to enjoy being where I am and blessing where I am even if it's not as complete as I think it could be.  Therefore, if I can't rise to high plank (it's like a push-up with your hands beneath your shoulders, inner elbows rubbing ribs  and a straight body), I'll shine some love into my knees as they support me on  my way up.    www.LaraOberlin.com

Love to all.  

1/31/12 3:30 p.m.

Snowed in today, not quite enough snow to go snowshoeing but just enough so that the cats are curled up into little balls, my teacup cools quickly (over and over again), and Paul is working from home!

This is my first blog post ever... and so I'll keep it brief.  Ha!  I'll do my best.

I have been feeling a little bit restless when it comes to my work, and that's an understatement... it's more as though there is a great grey flag of mist spanning the length of an otherwise brilliant sky, and it is embossed with shadowy black lettering that is spelling out the words "WORK HARDER."  And, snow day or not, the snow has been falling in big, wet flakes since last night.  Nothing I do makes this feeling of wanting to WORK HARDER go away, whether I'm painting, working with contractors, scraping 100 year old glue and subfloor out of my pine wood kitchen floor with a heat gun and a borrowed electric scraper, trying to prepare healthy meals and juices without any counter space (due to renovations), dreaming about my business, cleaning the house for the massage therapy sessions that I am so grateful to be able to give, keeping the therapy room perpetually sacred and open, organizing my basement (I dream in color), volunteering, etc.

Isn't this the goal of being a strong independent woman?  To aspire, always to aspire to work harder, to pull myself up my bootstraps and to take this world by storm (whatever that means) and to give to as many causes as possible without becoming depleted?  I realized I was in over my head when I realized I couldn't give ten plus hours to get orientated into Grace Hospice last week.  And what about my business?  This business is so important to me, it is the most meaningful employment that I can possibly imagine and it is ultimately all that I ever wanted to be and do.  How can I keep it going if I'm barely scraping by?

"The most important things in life aren't things." Thus spake a friend's refrigerator magnet, the Beatles, and every major spiritual leader I've ever encountered since I could read.  It's as deep as my marrow, that concept, deeper... into the marrow of the soul, like all things that ring true.  A friend recently stated to me that she isn't motivated by money, and that really resonated with me... so, if money doesn't motivate, how can one keep one's practice afloat?  Trade can go a long ways... I need to keep giving massages in order to be in the world of massage, and as long as I'm able to practice, I will do so as much as possible.

The important thing in life is to be happy.  I'm blessed and in gratitude for many old and new occurences.  And, I have this tendency to look at my own life, in the spaces between the really luscious moments that life has to offer (when I'm cuddling my cats or meditating with my husband or taking a new class, or having a great conversation or just feeling inspired to play a song, to fix something, to go for a walk, to write a letter, etc.).  In between these moments I tend to check in with myself, to ask myself questions, such as "What do I have to be grateful for?" and "What's not working?"  in the same breath.

Today, the answer seems to be?  Lots.  Lots and lots of gratitude.  And, I'M not.  I'm not working.  I'm active, and... I'm relatively new to my profession, although, I've had the great honor of giving hundreds of hours of massages to nearly two hundred different body types, all with different needs and goals.  That's not to brag - what I mean to say is that I am very serious about what I do - and I love what I do.  So lately, I've been wondering how it is that I've let the needs of my house take precedence over my career.

Because massage has been so broadly supportive to me, I feel very called to offer it.  And I haven't been giving enough massages... Even before I graduated in July 2012, due in part to the guidance of my business teacher at the IME, I have done a fair amount of advertising and business set-up; I went out and purchased my DBA, became a professional member of ABMP, sent a hundred letters to friends and family, and, soon after graduation, I gave away a ton of gift certificates, started my website - www.laraoberlin.com, attended SCORE meetings, did a corporate chair massage gig, and began carrying business cards.  On occasion, during the odd week - I actually feel wonderful sharing that I receive up to at least a third of the number of clients I can support.  Still, business can hardly be described as "booming."  Booming expresses what I wish I could feel I was doing - something dramatic and meaningful and with great intention.  So, I renamed my website in the vague hopes that THAT would be the ticket to being more involved in a career that seemed so promising before Christmas.  What happened?  I mean, I know this is Michigan, but seriously, it's a beautiful state - what happened??

Hold onto all of the things that we truly feel are for our highest good, let go of the things that aren't serving us.  Last year, that was in the zeitgeist at school, an oft heard phrase and adopted mantra.  So, my solution is this: add to the micro-volunteering, little by little, as and when it feels right, and hold off on any new macro projects of any sort.  I hope to focus a little bit of time, each week, on getting the word out that I'm doing this work.  I have my dream massage therapy story in the making, and for now, this week, my husband has taken over for the next round of neighborhood organizing.  That was actually difficult for me to let go of that for a little bit.  Yesterday, I decided to just *stop* working on the kitchen floor.  I had support from others who were willing to let go with me when they saw that I needed to do so.  Thankful...

This weekend, I have the honor of giving free chair massages to members of the Potawatomi tribe.  It's a heart expo and there will be lectures and booths full of educational opportunities of how we can improve our self-care with regard to our hearts.  Because massage has such a positive effect on heart health, a few massage therapists will be there offering chair massages, and I have the honor of being one of them.  I am very much looking forward to this opportunity and I view it as a kind of "retreat" from my normal massage therapy routines of home and mobile massage.  I'm so excited to be doing this and I'm thrilled that I'm going to get to take my special massage chair, which is top of the line (a birthday present from Paul last year!).  I'm very excited to meet the other massage therapist(s) and it feels great to be working with the public.

Meanwhile, the sun is burning a blinding, silvery brightness and is dissolving a tuft of dark grey cloud that hangs just above it.  The snow has stopped falling in its big, wet flakes and this day has been a respite from working harder for me, for neighbors who teach at WMU, for KPS kids and teachers, and for a large percentage of this city's population.

Instead of WORKING HARDER, I am reminded that there is always time for respite.  It's what I hope I can create for others when they are on my table, and it's what I hope I can create for myself, whenever I need it.  This business about working harder is really unproductive when the mind is fixed on the present, and not on some nebulous place in a hazy future that frankly doesn't exist and isn't therefore important.  Oh, it's good to have goals, but for my part, I will make it one of mine to be thankful for the light, and open to the many graceful opportunities that present themselves when it's O.K. to just be, to just serve, to just do my best.  And while I'm being thankful, I'm also thankful for the support of great people, and the large wet snowflakes, and the sun that melts that them.

Potawatomi, incidentally, means "Keepers of the fire."  Wishing warm and restful moments to us all this weekend, and grace be with us.