Life Path 11 #8
Touch and smell.
Where do you live? Is it lilac season there? Wherever you are, step outside and gulp down a big breath of fresh floral air. I hope that it’s nighttime. It seems the spring night air is more fecund than the daytime, when the heat absorbs the sweet nose. Go ahead, take a deep breath.
Where I live, the rhododendron petals have dropped after a stunning early spring display of their neon pink flowers, and I’m starting to notice the bleeding hearts hanging like pearls in shady spots in my neighbors’ yards. We planted a bleeding heart this year—a transplant from my in-laws—and she bloomed a week later, signs of strong roots.
My partner’s parents also gifted us a poppy from their yard, which we transplanted last year. She gathered all her strength over last season and over winter, and she was the first green to appear this year, after the snow had melted. She hasn’t bloomed yet, but she’s working on it. Her buds look menacing—draped with her prickly spines—and I expect them to open in June, maybe even late May.
Spring is a dream, everything emerging all at once: color, birdsong, texture, nectar, sunlight, skin. I admit to myself that winter weighed me down. It’s ok, it’s good to rest. Now it’s time for play.
And work. I’m in a sumo squat, plunging my spade into the soil. I’m wrestling a hose. I’m on my knees. I’m shoveling earth. I’m more awake, more attentive to small details. I’m more aware of my body: sweat, dirt, drink water.
One reason I love to garden is because it’s a simultaneously stimulating and centering tactile experience. This is because the natural world is ecosystems on ecosystems, thrumming and buzzing among us. There’s so much to touch, to smell, to hear. I think it’s also because gardening requires a trust and admiration for my body, a connection to my movement and strength in some meaningful way.
Just under two years ago, I decided to shake up my life, leave a steady (albeit unhealthy) job, and go to massage therapy school. A couple weeks ago, I started my first professional massage therapy job (at Watershed—if you are in Minneapolis, go to the baths!!!), and I’m still in school, pursuing a more advanced certificate. I’m massaging and, in school, being massaged multiple times a week.
Observation is one of our most powerful tools as massage therapists. When my client is on the table, I’m not only feeling—or as we call it, listening to—their tissue, but I’m also watching their breath rise and fall, and scanning their face for micro expressions. I don’t just charge through the body, like I wouldn’t haphazardly march through the garden. Each movement is slow, intentional, attentive.
Being present is another one of our most powerful tools—maybe the most. Being present means letting go. I can’t go into a massage therapy session with my head spinning with my own stuff. I need to be fully there, two feet on the ground, so I can be open to what my client needs and what I can provide. In the garden, it’s easy to be present. There’s so much to admire. There’s also so much to do, and everything requires finesse and care. Even pulling a weed requires presence: you can’t just yank, thoughtlessly, on something you don’t want near your plants. You grab purposefully, and pull gently, slowly, to ensure you get the root.
Massaging a client is collaborative. Again—you get what I’m doing here—just like gardening. Gardening is not a solo endeavor. It’s you and the seeds and the earth and the insects and the birds and the wind and the rain. You are a contributor. You are not a controller. In massage, we are experts in soft tissue, yes, but we cannot fix or heal*, and we cannot work on a body unless we are in conversation with the body. (*We can facilitate healing, but we do not simply heal. So many of our bodies are sore, achy, tired, stuck, in pain; massage therapists are educated and trained to reduce these symptoms through soft tissue manipulation and other techniques, like energy work, but ultimately, healing happens when the client makes changes to their habits or lifestyle, and commits to taking the steps they need to heal themselves.)
I’ve been in some very stuck places over the past ten years, and I recently made some major lifestyle changes. I knew I needed to make changes because my body had started to unfurl from itself. I had been doing the same things over and over and over, prioritizing logic (this is the right thing to do) and appearances (from the outside, my life looks good). I wasn’t happy. I was ignoring the connection between my body’s needs and my emotional needs—drinking too much, not getting enough sleep, working a desk job. Massage helped me realize this. So did gardening. I need to move my body. I just do. Maybe you have different needs. Whatever they are, I hope you find them, and I hope you embody them.
Things I love:
I’m on a Tana French kick. I haven’t loved every book that I’ve read, but they’ve each kept me reading on a clip. I’m an extremely slow reader, so this is special. Broken Harbour, The Likeness, and In The Woods are my favorites so far. Plus—babe alert!!
Eating breakfast with my best friends. I have been blessed with the absolute best friends in the universe, and we all have ravenous appetites. Recently, my friend Lucy and I visited our friend Alex in Portland, and Alex made us a simple breakfast that I can’t quit (and have adapted slightly): granola, nuts, yogurt, honey, cinnamon and sliced apple. The tangy crunch of the apple with the sweet crunch of the granola is *chef’s kiss* such a delightful way to wake up in the morning.
Speaking of Portland, the flora is bursting! Have you ever seen a monkey puzzle tree?! This tree is like one ginormous succulent, but it’s actually a conifer: towering, cartoonish, whimsical, unreal.
My partner and I watch a lot of YouTube—how-tos, gardening tips, Linda Ronstadt concert videos. One of our favorite channels is Kirsten Dirksen, a videographer who, along with her husband Nicolás Boullosa, travels the globe and interviews people in their unique homes. We’ve watched a lot of homestead tours, as well as tours of tiny homes, yurts and Earthships, from California to Tokyo. Their editing is incredibly light, and the resulting videos are very raw and organic. Kirsten’s interviewing style—often simply repeating what was just said—can get a little redundant, but the stunning views and the intimacy of being invited into these strangers’ daily lives is energizing and inspiring. And bonus: it looks like they are publishing a book about eco-friend home design later this month!
xxo
So beautiful! <3