Issue link: https://www.massageandbodyworkdigital.com/i/82405
HEALING THE WOUNDED In contrast to the horror that surrounded us, the deep outpouring of loving kindness from people throughout the country and around the globe was awe-inspiring. Collectively, they lifted the weight of hopelessness from our shoulders. Our second responders—community organizers, cultural workers, social justice workers, and therapists of all sorts—were working overtime to build a frame for moving forward. Six years later, it is important to and Ambien was passed around like table salt. Of course, none of that really helped with focusing, or grounding for that matter. Folks reached out for touch, but with hesitation, and often fearful of what might then arise. I could appreciate how tightly they held themselves, how hesitant they were to let anyone into that space, and how scared they were to allow expansion. Others were hungry for help, wanting to melt through the shells they'd grown and to feel, if briefly, their wings again. For everyone, it was a battle between awareness and living in a haze. Clear sight, opened senses, free access to feeling—all of these might mean more pain and more awareness of loss. Even a keener sense of smell might be intolerable for some. Offering the right amount, and right kind, of work was a balancing act. share that much is still untended—in the city, and in the bodies of her people. Each year brought changes though, and by year three and four, bodies were adjusting, not always most adaptively, but overall functioning appeared to be improving. The "P" in PTSD is still persistent rather than post. There is a deep and continuing kind of grief not giving up its grip, as more and more of our folks are dying. Medical care is still limited. Preexisting conditions are often not tended to; newly developed conditions often go largely untreated. The loss of so many in our community still leaves a bitter taste in our mouths. THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING HEARD New Orleanians, being a storytelling, people-oriented people, needed to tell our stories, our own personal storm stories, over and over again. If you come down to New Orleans today, and are even moderately interested, you will encounter storytellers everywhere, continuing to pour forth the stories of destruction and rebirth. Because of this basic need, massage sessions often expanded to create room to hear these stories. Luckily, this was exactly the situation for which Relational Somatics was built. A basic tenet of my work is that because most trauma, and its attendant wounding, happens in the relational field, it is best healed "in relationship." It asks of its practitioners a meticulous attention to the bodyworker-client relationship and proposes to use that relationship itself as a potent healing tool. Over the years, I have asked my students to take apart the word relationship: relation, meaning "to relate, to tell the story of"; ship, meaning "a large vessel capable of traveling through deep waters." I have asked my students to be the ship. In receiving and witnessing, they are to be large and sturdy. Their role is to focus, not on the pain and sadness, but on the blessing of the time, the space, the safety, and the courage that allows the story to be told, heard, and held in honor by another soul. That, in itself, is healing. WHAT TO CHARGE IN A DISASTER Like many bodyworkers I know, I have always had a sliding scale for payments. My "give back" was usually for musicians, social justice and cultural workers, and community activists. Anyone could If you look closely, you can see the author's tan massage table folded against the wall, with her bolsters on top. Boost your practice with ABMP's Website Builder—free for members on ABMP.com 57