October 18th, 2016
Have you ever been for a massage? I am a very affectionate person but I don't really like strangers touching my body. I think it was ok prior to having children but, somehow, after having my daughters, I no longer wanted to go out for a massage. It wasn't a treat. I preferred time to myself, to think, to write, to walk around. I craved personal space I guess.
After my first daughter was born, I went to a spa in Stittsville, a gift from my hubby, and a young lady massaged me. I didn't feel a connection to her. It felt awkward like she didn't want to do the work and I couldn't wait for it to be over.
On another occasion, this time after the birth of my second daughter, my husband surprised me with a massage during the girls' nap time. I had my period and I told my husband that I was bleeding profusely and would need to postpone. He had already paid and they were waiting for me. Two women stood over me, one of them massaging me, in a communal, open air room. She was good, some of it was relaxing but every time she lifted and pulled a leg, I could feel the blood oozing, dripping and I worried about what kind of mess awaited me when she was done.
For Father's Day, I booked a Thai Massage for my husband. He has travelled through Thailand and told me about the rigorous massages he received during that trip. One day, we watched Anthony Bourdain, the celebrity chef, receiving a Thai Massage during his travels. It looked like torture to me but my husband was looking on, longingly. I found the best masseuse I could find. He came home with a blissful look on his face. He told me he had booked a home massage for both of us.
I was worried. I don't like pain. I don't want to be twisted and have my limbs bent in unnatural directions. My husband had his 90 minute session first. Then, it was my turn. I must add here that, following our car accident in 2012, I went to visit a massage therapist and she worked me hard. I ended up with a massive headache for two weeks. This experience did nothing to restore my confidence in these health professionals.
She had set up some mats on the floor. I explained that I didn't want a headache and pointed out my vulnerable areas (neck, lower back, right ovary and base of skull). I informed her that, unlike my husband, I didn't like it rough. I actually prefer more of a gentle, soothing approach. She listened to my spiel and assured me that she would start slow and build a sense of safety for me.
She started holding my feet and rocking. She stayed at my feet for a while, working on each foot individually then moving my feet together. She moved up my legs, explaining what she was doing along the way. She used her body with mine to compress and stretch the various parts of my body. Everything was done in a gentle, nurturing way. We communicated throughout. She checked with me to ensure I was not in any pain. Having my body pulled and rocked was very soothing. My favourite parts were when she was supporting areas that are normally quite tense like my lower back and the base of my skull. When she removed the tension from my body, I was able to breathe and just enjoy.
Breathing was an instrumental part of this process. She would ask me to inhale before she compressed my body then exhale as she released it. Being on the floor together means we work as a team. She used her body to help support mine. I thoroughly enjoyed this process. There was no pain and I didn't get a headache. As a matter of fact, she ended with my head, relieving stress, relaxing muscles, supporting its weight.
If you are feeling frail, wanting some TLC and looking for a professional who will tailor her approach to your needs, I would strongly recommend a 90 minute massage with Sarah at Bliss Yoga, http://blissyogaottawa.com. You will feel nurtured and healed.
Anne Walsh
www.artnsoul.org
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Tuesday, 18 October 2016
Tuesday, 8 March 2016
Racism
March 3rd, 2016
My husband and I love going to Florida each year. We have plans to visit Arizona, Texas, California and Hawaii. As we watch the rise of Donald Trump and contemplate what the US would become under his presidency, our plans to travel to these destinations seem doubtful. We stopped traveling to Mexico a few years ago because it didn't feel safe anymore. The US will not be any better if Trump gets his way. I am puzzled, not that people like Trump exist but that so many people think he's right. It scares me.
When I was young, I was not aware that I was darker than my white relatives. My mother was white, my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins-all white. No one ever mentioned that I was darker or different. It didn't seem important. In school, I had someone call me the "n" word. I felt the impact of that word, the mean intention and the strong response of those around me. I didn't know what it meant. Eventually, through my own frustration at having no answers for my friends' questions, I reached out to my mother. I asked her: who's my father, why am I darker, am I adopted, where is my father now, did you love each other, why aren't you together anymore?
I learned about my father, his color, the entire story of my conception (more than I wanted to know) and, I was left with more questions but I suddenly feared the answers. How much more information did I want? Was I ready for the answers? I eventually undertsood that my color made me different in the eyes of others. I noticed that most people didn't care what color I was but there were some who treated me different. I couldn't tell who was safe and who wasn't until it was too late. I'd say hello to someone and recognize that hateful, condescending look in their eyes-not safe.
I was in a few situations where I encountered the anger and hatred of others simply due to the color of my skin. It is very frightening to realize that this stranger wants to harm or even kill you and that he feels justified in doing so. I have learned to steer clear of people with that much anger in their heart and, up until now, I have perceived them as a minority.
There is a strong correlation with what happens in the US and what happens here in Canada. When I see people standing by Trump, it shakes me up. I wonder if this is how people truly feel out hère as well. It's not just my safety I worry about. My daughters are not dark but I am. When my daughter came home from her first day at school, I hugged her and asked her about her day. She asked me why I was dark-skinned and she was light-skinned. First day of school. It broke my heart. Like me, the color of our skin had never had any meaning to it until someone pointed it out.
When my eldest daughter was bullied a few years ago, I brought it up to one of the teachers and she asked me if I thought it was because of her tanned skin, because she looked different. I was shocked. It hadn't occured to me.
Regardless of our skin color, we all have feelings, we need to be safe and belong, we want to contribute and be free. I will continue to believe that most people are kind, loving, reasonable people. I will watch closely as the Americans vote for their next President. I hope with all my heart that the US continues to be the land of the free where the rights of all Americans are protected and the value of each individual life is recognized.
Anne Walsh
www.artnsoul.org
My husband and I love going to Florida each year. We have plans to visit Arizona, Texas, California and Hawaii. As we watch the rise of Donald Trump and contemplate what the US would become under his presidency, our plans to travel to these destinations seem doubtful. We stopped traveling to Mexico a few years ago because it didn't feel safe anymore. The US will not be any better if Trump gets his way. I am puzzled, not that people like Trump exist but that so many people think he's right. It scares me.
When I was young, I was not aware that I was darker than my white relatives. My mother was white, my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins-all white. No one ever mentioned that I was darker or different. It didn't seem important. In school, I had someone call me the "n" word. I felt the impact of that word, the mean intention and the strong response of those around me. I didn't know what it meant. Eventually, through my own frustration at having no answers for my friends' questions, I reached out to my mother. I asked her: who's my father, why am I darker, am I adopted, where is my father now, did you love each other, why aren't you together anymore?
I learned about my father, his color, the entire story of my conception (more than I wanted to know) and, I was left with more questions but I suddenly feared the answers. How much more information did I want? Was I ready for the answers? I eventually undertsood that my color made me different in the eyes of others. I noticed that most people didn't care what color I was but there were some who treated me different. I couldn't tell who was safe and who wasn't until it was too late. I'd say hello to someone and recognize that hateful, condescending look in their eyes-not safe.
I was in a few situations where I encountered the anger and hatred of others simply due to the color of my skin. It is very frightening to realize that this stranger wants to harm or even kill you and that he feels justified in doing so. I have learned to steer clear of people with that much anger in their heart and, up until now, I have perceived them as a minority.
There is a strong correlation with what happens in the US and what happens here in Canada. When I see people standing by Trump, it shakes me up. I wonder if this is how people truly feel out hère as well. It's not just my safety I worry about. My daughters are not dark but I am. When my daughter came home from her first day at school, I hugged her and asked her about her day. She asked me why I was dark-skinned and she was light-skinned. First day of school. It broke my heart. Like me, the color of our skin had never had any meaning to it until someone pointed it out.
When my eldest daughter was bullied a few years ago, I brought it up to one of the teachers and she asked me if I thought it was because of her tanned skin, because she looked different. I was shocked. It hadn't occured to me.
Regardless of our skin color, we all have feelings, we need to be safe and belong, we want to contribute and be free. I will continue to believe that most people are kind, loving, reasonable people. I will watch closely as the Americans vote for their next President. I hope with all my heart that the US continues to be the land of the free where the rights of all Americans are protected and the value of each individual life is recognized.
Anne Walsh
www.artnsoul.org
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