Learning Thai Massage in Thailand

When I think of Bangkok Thailand, where I was about this time last year, I remember beautiful Buddhist temples with ancient statues, like the immense gold-leafed image of the reclining Buddha, or the statues of sages doing yoga postures. I recall monks in light orange robes buying coffee and taking boat rides on the Chao Phraya River that runs through the city.

I also think of the sixty or so mostly Thai people in my Traditional Thai Massage class and the chanting before class in the Thai language to honor and invoke a healing state of mind. All of my minor health ailments disappeared during that week in which I was learning Thai Massage eight hours a day. I was sore from being palpated over and over in the same places by students. We learned to massage acupressure points along Sen Lines all over the body. Sen Lines are similar to acupuncture meridians and are said to be pathways along which the "lom" or life-force travels. When there is pain, the Sen line is said to be obstructed or even "broken." There were two lines on the inner leg and three on the outer. The back had two major lines with additional lines around the scapula. Similarly the arms, the neck, the head, the feet, and the abdomen were all mapped with points and lines to be worked with palm and finger acupressure. The bottoms of the feet were also used to administer the massage, in places such as along the hamstrings on the back of the thighs. My entire body was being used as an instrument to relax and open people up to the life-force of "lom" as I learned to use my elbows, my forearms, and even my knees at one point to relax and release tense muscles and obstructed energy flow. We learned also to stretch people into various postures, providing a kind of assisted yoga, a hallmark feature of Thai Massage.
At the end of a week of being pressed and prodded, stretched and stretched some more, both my body and mind were freed up. As I walked the streets of Bangkok surrounded by a population which almost entirely Buddhist, I had a satori moment. In the midst of all the street vendors, honking rickshaws and taxis, I asked myself about the root causes of my life issues and flashed on the cause of my sufferings: the sense of "I," "Me," and "self." The knots and tensions that I have within myself all hinge on some worry, some memory, or some anxiety all related to my individual story line. "I" haven't achieved this or that, or "I" don't have enough work, or "I" was laughed at by those people.
At a Buddhist monastery named Wat Arun, I visited one of the head monks and described my "aha" moment. He thought I had glimpsed or seen through the dilemma of the self which is the source of our problems in life. He said if I would keep "enquiring" and "questioning" in my meditation that the satori moment could be extended, becoming more and more a stable way of life. He stated that merely breathing, watching the breath, and relaxing in meditation would not be enough. To make progress spiritually, he instructed, I would need to ask "why?" Why am I suffering in this way? What is the real cause?
The force of my health conditions had evaporated while engaged in an intense format of Thai Massage practice and training. This and that ache and pain, this and that symptom evaporated. The force of my personality, with its habitual mental habits, emotions and worries, also lightened up a bit, revealing a bit of that blue sky, or glimpse of the true Self, that is said to exist when the clouds of the ego dissipate. In an ancient Buddhist Kingdom was called Siam, I had learned an ancient form of bodywork, Traditional Thai Massage, and had experienced its effects on the body, mind and spirit.

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Musical Midwifery in Hospice Care

This is an account of one the strongest experiences of my life while serving as a Therapeutic Musician in Hospice Care. Music has probably been used to ease the dyingprocess since time immemorial. I have had the privilege of being present when people die while playing prescriptive music to ease the transition process.
In one instance I entered a room full of people to visit the dying individual. Nurses andfamily members were hovering about the room. I sat the closest to the patient of everyone present so that I could begin my musical ministry. The breath of the client was raspy, fast and labored. Taking out my flute I played a few tones in perfect rhythm with the rhythm of the person's breathing. Then I began to relax and slow my rhythm, hoping the principle of entrainment would come into play. My hopes were realized as the person's breath slowed down with me in tandem. In other words, she appeared to entrain or to follow my rhythm. I intentionally introduced a gradually slower and slower rhythm to calm her. After a time, this person, whom I will name Betsy (not her real name) for the purposes of this writing, became calm. This was evidenced by a complete change in her facial expression and her breathing pattern.
Several more minutes passed as I played what's known in the therapeutic music trade as "non-metered" music. This type of music is thought to be a specific for eleventh hour hospice patients. It is characterized by the lack of a steady beat. As I was playing the familiar tune "Greensleeves" in a non-metered fashion, Betsy took her last breath and departed this world. I have always wanted to paint my impression of those final moments with Betsy, and perhaps someday I will take up a paintbrush and convey what I felt. It seemed to be in an almost palpable way that Betsy's soul or life-force left her body and was greeted by an angelic light or presence. Also it seemed the music was a doorway for Betsy, a way for her to relax and let go and be carried on her way to her next form of life, as energy is never lost but it only changes form in my view, and we are "birthed" into a new life at death in my belief. I marveled at my sense of my role as a kind of musical midwife for the dying, helping them to be reborn in their new form. I was stunned when the process with Betsy repeated itself with another person within a short period of time.
Some of the most extensive use of music in hospice occured in medieval France among the Benedictine monks, who used the non-metered Gregorian Chant to assist the dying in letting go and finding peace in the transition process. This musical form of Energy Medicine is tops on my own list of palliative care when my own time comes. I don't imagine that any of my life experiences will ever surpass this musical midwifery role of mine in terms of the awe, mystery, and meaning.

deep tissue: zen or biomechanics?

Just attended a facinating course in Deep Tissue Massage, taught by Art Riggs, in San Francisco. It was five days of immersion into complex anatomy and kinesthetic sensitivity to body tissues and it featured two very different teachers. The First teacher was completely Newtonian or biomechanical in his approach. He emphasized physical sensory feedback and information. He would say something like--"sink into the tissue and if you feel pushback stop." He talked about specific muscles and functions of those muscles. The Second teacher was also a local Zen teacher. Both teachers were Rolfers. The Zen Rolfer would sink into tissue and just sort of hang out. He talked about a need for "space" to be present while you were working. The idea of maintaining pressure in a sensitive area and waiting for the myofascial tissue to melt were common to both teachers, but there language and explanations were vastly different. The more Newtonian guy revealed he was envious of the Zen guy's "profound" level of working. For those of us in the class, it gave us permission to do the same work, deep tissue massage, in the manner that would work for us and be authentic for us. Although to work for example the quadratus lumborum muscles in the low back and release them seems like to me it should be the same mechanical process regardless of the practitioner, perhaps this is not so after all. I talked to the Zen guy and said that I was surprised to find out that a Rolfer would be working so much with energy or consciousness and asked him if a lot of Rolfers worked that way. His answer was yes that a lot did and his Rolfing teacher did in fact. I had assumed Rolfing would be a very logical field of endeavor. This was also a rather un-painful class in that the techniques didn't hurt. As there is a popular notion that deep tissue hurts, and in fact many people say they have received "hard" or painful massages, the way this class was taught by these stellar teachers allowed the practitioner to sink into tissue somewhat effortlessly without causing significant pain. Amazing. I myself have received "deep tissue" touch that I really haven't liked. I was also surprised to find both teachers using the word intention quite a bit, saying things like, "it's just your intention" that you are able to reach down and work that muscle which is deep below the the superficial muscles. This too seemed more like something out of the years of classes I had taken in Healing Touch energy work. I had expected that when I ventured into deep tissue it would all be rather mechanical and Newtonian. And I did find that, but that was only half of the picture. It seems as if the public and many practitioners of deep tissue only have half the picture of what deep tissue is and can be. Deep Tissue can be nurturing deep type of work, where the practitioner can sink effortlessly to a deeper level in the muscles and release them, at least in the hands of these great masters of touch that I observed and felt first hand.