One day I was given a metaphorical bag of lemons. Actually it was a grove’s full and they had been given to me intermittently over quite some period of time, I just simply wasn’t paying attention. So it was the one day when I could no longer ignore this massive pile of metaphorical lemons that I screamed in agonizing pain. I had herniated a lumbar disc, gotten sciatica, and initiated the genetic expression of my autoimmune gene for Ankylosing Spondylitis. Great: an abundance of lemons and I’m not even particularly fond of them.
I was desperate for answers and remedies. One doctor told me I probably just had cancer, another told me to exercise more, which was odd because I was a yoga instructor and spent each and every day exercising. Another was making light of my suffering with a nurse not realizing I could hear them. None of them looked me in the eye with compassion and listened with heart. Instead I was given heavy pain prescriptions and told that routine injections for the rest of my life were the best solutions.
I wanted so desperately to adhere to a naturalist lifestyle and avoid synthetic drugs with side effects, but there were times that the pain was so unbearable. Waking up in the mornings were miserable as that is when the spine seems to be most stiff and fused with Ankylosing Spondylitis. I would have to squat in the grocery line because standing was too painful. I continued to work, but when I would get home, I would roll on the floor and stretch and meditate hoping for some relief only to find that I could barely get back up again. I did what any person with a grove full of unwanted lemons would do: I searched externally for answers focusing only on the immediate problem. Perhaps I needed a new orthopedic bed, a Teeter inversion table, detox sauna sessions, daily deep tissue massages, to sleep with a pillow between my knees, massive doses of supplements, and so on. Of course all the external factors have an effect, but no one in particular is a full remedy (though massage was one of the best!!!).
Instead I needed to reverse old patterned ways of being and reeducate myself on health and nutrition. And so I did. I researched, went to workshops, met with naturopathic doctors and Nutrionalists, and completely changed my diet and sleeping patterns. It took quite a while, but I finally began to thrive, and in a way that I never had before. My yoga classes increasingly became more attended by others in physical pain or emotional turmoil seeking guidance and relief. I found that the pain I had experienced with my spine actually gifted me with a heightened awareness that allowed me to feel each little part of my body and exactly how to move to strengthen or stretch each individual muscle, vertebra, and perhaps fiber. My awareness of my pain and focus on healing guided me in my support of others and their experiences with pain. One yoga student might complain of right lumbar pain, and I could put her in a posture with a therapeutic massage touch to alleviate the pain. Another would have an issue with his cervical neck and I could likewise provide the needed modifications, props and massage to help. I found myself sharing my story, not from a place of victimization, but rather from a place of empowerment, though to be honest I did initially go through the victim phase. Nevertheless, everything is an opportunity; it’s simply just how we choose to deal with it. Every lemon is a chance to make lemonade!
I shared that pain is actually a gift; a programmed survival mechanism of the infinite wisdom of the body in its strive for homeostasis. If a deer breaks its leg from a jump, it will feel pain so that it can rest and recover and not jump on a wounded leg that could incur more injuries. We speak to ourselves through our bodies, but we aren’t the best listeners because it’s not in a readily understandable language. So we tend to ignore these little symptoms, these body-mind dialogues, these ways of communicating with our own selves that some kind of change is needed, these gifted lemons, until finally we no longer can. We all too often then reach for things that block pain, both physical and emotional, such as pain medications that block pain receptors or substances that allow us to tune out.
My main goal, however, was not to be a healer as some called me. I believe that people are innately fully equipped with every remedy to heal themselves. My role is simply to support them in doing so and help them ask the right questions. My focus with yoga and massage shifted from my guiding patrons to the optimal alignment to asking questions that guided them to feel for themselves. When lying supine I would ask, for example, “Which foot seems to have more contact with the Earth? Does that correspond to a weight difference in the buttocks”, in order for them to assess their own pelvic alignment, or when in a seated “Butterfly” pose, “If one inguinal side is tight, what happens if you squeeze (to engage) the opposite gluteal muscles”. And with such questions we begin to listen. And when we listen, we are guided towards the answers and healing we seek.
It was an arduous and difficult journey, but in the end I was rewarded with a skill of listening. My degree and professional experience is with teaching, and what better thing to teach than the things that we have learned; to listen to ourselves and others with compassion. And my belief with teaching is that I am not imparting knowledge to my students, but rather the opportunity for them to learn and experience for themselves so that it is an experiential, authentic, and meaningful process. My role is to guide them to ask the right questions. And as I merge my previous work experiences into my long-awaited massage therapy career, I am reminded to inspire others to listen, to love, and to realize that all these lemons are actually beautiful gifts that teach us to make lemonade and to sit back and drink each glass with gratitude.
