a love note

Posted by | May 10, 2011 | Leave a Comment

The trees! They’ve gone and burst out in leafy song! Did you notice?

Leaf-clad trees don’t let me see as far from my second storey window, but they do get me to notice things closer to home, like the high wire act the squirrels are putting on, just yards away, on the telephone wires.

Squirrels aren’t the only ones putting on shows these days. In the marsh at Danehy Park the red-winged blackbirds are darting about. Spotting one of those red swaths of joy invariably makes my heart skip a beat and my mind pause.

And you, dear? How are you? Is it springtime by you, too, or are you in the southerly parts of our world watching the leaves start to fall, pulling cozy sweaters out of the closet–?

It’s been awhile since I’ve written, but you’ve been on my mind. My massage therapy practice, Heidi’s Table, has been bustling, which, after a couple of years of attention and love (mixed in with some nail-biting, sweat and a good few tears, truth be told) is a jump-up-’n'-down-for-joy thing for sure!

Thank you! Thank you my dear clients. Thank you, dear subscribers. Thank you, dear friends. I love doing what I do, and I could not do it without you.

Speaking of love, I want to tell you about the loveliest little e-book you could possibly read today. It’s called “23 Things You Might Not Know About You.” This little book would read like a gift even if you were paying for it, but my lovely friend Lisa Baldwin of Zen at Play is offering this wee-book for fr*e! Yipee!

Oh and too? I’m in it! Yep, Lisa asked me if I’d write about what I would like you to know about your body. However could I have said no?! For one, I adore Lisa. For two, I adore you. For three, I adore and am in awe of these amazing and baffling things we call bodies. (You can download the e-book HERE).

If you are local, there are a few massage openings left this week:

Thursday, 5/12 (3 openings left)
12 p.m., 1:45 p.m. or 5:30 p.m.

Friday, 5/13 (1 opening left, your pick)
12:15 p.m., 1:45 p.m. or 5:15 p.m.

Saturday, 5/14 (1 opening left, your pick)
9 a.m. or 5 p.m.

I look forward to seeing you soon on my table in Harvard Square or at my table on the interwebs. Or maybe I’ll bump into you at The Pause, which is, hands down(!), the best place to hang out when things get stressful and overwhelming.

Until then,

xo

Heidi

—–
Heidi E. Fischbach

Massage therapist, mood detective and potion-mixer

You have a body. You have a mind. But they don’t always get along.
I can help.

www.heidistable.com
617.297.2266

Categories: Massage Therapy, Open Letters | Tagged: , | Leave a Comment

The Pause: Not what I asked for

Posted by | April 3, 2011 | 1 Comment

I went to The Pause again today. I needed something, though I wasn’t sure what. Before retreating to a table, I stopped to order a shot of patience. Presence was tending bar, as usual.

“I’ll be at that table,” I told him, pointing to a secluded spot in the corner. He nodded.

A few minutes later a curvy, twinkle-eyed server set before me a bowl of soup.

“Oh, uh… I think there’s been a mistake. I ordered patience.”

“No mistake,” she smiled, “compliments of the chef.” I opened my mouth in protest, but she’d already turned. I watched her figure disappear into the kitchen.

I stared at my soup, and then, with a sigh, unfolded my napkin. A scrolled, ribbon-tied paper fell onto my lap.

“Try a little tenderness. On the house.”

Signed,

Kindness
Head Chef, The Pause

Categories: Self-care | Tagged: | 1 Comment

Meet me in that field?

Posted by | March 26, 2011 | 9 Comments

My soft friend,

I feel hard, hard like a rock-hard. Cynical and paranoid like poker-faced border guards eyeing your passport, suspicious like security officials patting you down, their calloused hands rough, impervious to your tender.

I feel envious-hard of the people making it, the connected people, the ones that are taken care of, the people that know people that know people. The people with followers, the people on lists, the favorite people and the people that get mentioned here there and everywhere even while I can’t stand them and I’m tired to death of their endless blah-blahs and am wishing with all my heart for what they don’t ever seem to say.

I want to hear that they are scared. That they too wake up in the middle of the night and hold their pillows. I want to hear that they don’t know shit, not really, that they are making it up, and that they are afraid that if they stop moving for one second their security will go the way of fog in sun.

I miss you, my soft friend. Where did you go? I miss all my friends who moved on, my friends who left the noise of the crowded coops of our common places… I miss being where you are and the pockets of skip-a-beat joy I remember feeling whenever you entered rooms where the doors have now been locked or yellow-taped with Do Not Enter as if someone had been shot.

Really I am tired, so tired, but I walk around with this shield of busy, and this other shield of numbness, and this other shield which you could call my Shield of Surely: surely there is something wrong with me, or surely there is something wrong with you, or surely things are not at all OK. Surely. It’s a heavy shield.

OK that’s not quite it either. Really I am tired of the ramblings of this mind. I’d like to find it a home. Do you know of a home for a tired mind? A soft, strong home where the only thing rambling is a porch deep and wide enough to hold the  nothings that my mind keeps chasing? A porch with a swing that will back and forth my mind to sleep and hold me while I rest?

Can I tell you that even my limbs are tired? That my cheeks they hurt from the tight of not crying? Can I tell you that my heart wakes me up in the dark before the world has stirred to remind me of what silence sounds like and that, often, unable to bear it for too long I reach too soon for that hopeless little screen, to restart the checking and rechecking of just one more thing?

Oh my friend. I write this to the olive branch that thinking of you this morning brought me. It’s a gentle, simple, uncomplicated olive branch that never speaks in shoulds, that never acts like she knows better, that is no more moved by pity than by hatred. It’s an olive branch of arms around me, openhearted, an olive branch of here’s a bowl of soup I made it for you my love, an olive branch of tell me what you love and I will hold the mirror for you my darling drumstick, an olive branch that smiles at my dramas and takes my hand all the same, calm and twinkly-eyed, laughing and curly-cued, maybe a few steps ahead but never too far, turning, grinning, C’mon, my sweet! I have things to show you! There are pools in which to skinny dip, there are beaches on which to lie, there are drinks with umbrellas, there are treehouses, there are secret rooms, there are magical delights, and yes, my love, there are lips waiting to be kissed.

My soft friend, quick! Please! Tell me what I love without complication, without drama, without panic? Because oh my but I want to remember.

Surely there is a field somewhere in the world where at this very moment the foggy shadows of the night are meeting the just-stirring rays of morning and the darkness and the light are about to make themselves some tender love— surely. Will you meet me there?

See you soon, I hope,

Your hard friend

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other” doesn’t make any sense.

–Rumi (13th century Sufi poet & mystic)

Categories: Mood detective, Open Letters | | 9 Comments

Some people have to-do lists. And some people have chickens. And secret missions.

Posted by | February 24, 2011 | 5 Comments

I now know why it’s called the red-eye. It was never meant metaphorically, no it wasn’t. Surely it was named by someone who looked in the mirror at the end of said red-eye and freaked the hell out at the sight of her red zombie eyes looking back at her in an airplane bathroom mirror. Surely.

This morning, when my eyes got home, they proceeded to have a red-eyed meltdown which revolved around the sense of nothing feeling like home. In the usual vernacular of meltdowns, the words “anymore” and “ever” figured prominently:

“Everything I thought would be home is not home. Anymore. Like the person whose neck used to smell like home to me, is not the neck of a person I can smell in that way. Anymore. And the person with the neck I would like to smell like home, well, that person and I had a bad day yesterday. And people I have thought of, in some way, as being home, are not. Or not really. Or not here. Anymore and ever amen.”

So, home. I miss it. Always have, I guess. Homesick and I go way back.

Um, Heidi-_ _?

Heidi-_ _?! Who are you calling me that? Show yourself.

Aw, Heidi, I’m your Chicken and I’m just playing with you. That’s what your mom used to call you, isn’t it?

Yah, so?

When she was happy with you–

Yah, so?

Well, she’d never call you that when she was unhappy with you, would she?

No.

Exactly. So, that was just me saying “I’m happy with you.”

Wait! Did you say “chicken”? Did you say you’re my chicken?

Yep. You asked for help, remember? This morning, when you got home, when you were so tired and crying, remember?

Wait a sec… Are you related to Hot ‘n’ Steamy Monday Momma?

[Blushing] Oh my! I take that as a compliment, for sure, though I’m not sure Monday Momma would… though I would like to think I’m sexy, too, in my own way–

So, are you?

Am I sexy?

Are you related! Are you related to Hot ‘n’ Steamy?

Yes and no. Like her, I too am helpful when you are feeling alone in all the world and believing all the thoughts zipping across your tired mind. But I’m a chicken. I come when you need help of the checking-in variety. And also, missions–

So you’re a check-in chicken on a mission?

That’s one way to say–

Wait! Are you related to Havi’s chickens?

Yes and no. You could call us cousins… cousins I like to drop in on to visit on Fridays. But I am your chicken with a capital Ch. And I am here to check in with you and help you in a practical way.

Are you going to give me to dos and all that? Because I don’t think I’m of a to-do list persuasion today.

Oh no, sweetpea. I’m not that kind of chicken. I am a just-for-you chicken. Since today I can tell you don’t need to-do’s, we won’t have to-do’s. Trooth be told, too? [Leans in and whispers:] I never was much of a to-do kind of bird. I much prefer ta-das.

Ta-das?

Yes, as in TA-DA! Voila!

Oh Chicken, you are kind to want to help, but I’m afraid I’m not much into ta-das either.

No worries.

I’m feeling soooo wobbly. And out of place. And sad that every place feels out of place to me. And home is not home. And my insides feel torn up: at once ancient (in an old outworn grooves kind of way) and strange (in an I just moved into this here house and I don’t know where anything is kind of way). And oh but what I want most in all my life is to find home. To feel at home. That all is OK. That I am cared for. Can’t I just find home? Please? I feel like Dorothy when she discovers that the wizard is just some short little old man amplifying his voice from behind the curtain. Also, I feel like the wizard, knowing I’m just an old man amplifying my voice. I’m afraid there’s no way home. And worse than that, maybe there really is no home. At least not for me.

Oh, sweetpea. That is a hard moment: when the things and people that you’d hoped and dreamed would be home, are not… Or when the people you’re with–

Don’t get me. Don’t understand.

Ah, yes, you want to be gotten, really gotten. I get that.

Yes. [crying] And to be listened to, understood. And I don’t have that right now and I know, of course, that no person can ever be all of that to me, and that I’m supposed to be that for myself and blah blah and blah… But that’s what I most want in all the world, to feel truly at home, like I belong.

Of course.

Oh Chicken, I can’t anymore. I miss the people that came closest to being home. And when things get to feeling really hard, I miss the neck that most smelled like home. And I hang on past when I should hang on… It is a very very lonely feeling this homesickness.

[Moves head side to side... listening, making clucking sounds...] Yes, my love.

[A few minutes pass] Heidi, now comes the part where I make a suggestion. Ready?

OK?  [looking at chicken quizzically]

Oh, oops. Let me try that again. [clears throat]: Heidi, prepare to receive your first assignment for Operation Home.

[Heidi's eyes widen]

What? You wanted a veteran chicken?

Uh, I did not even know I wanted a chicken.

Oh, Sweetheart, please, a tiny bit o’ trust, please?

[Heidi raises a brow].

OK. Full disclosure. You are my first assignment, and…  er… there were maybe a few days of Chicken School I missed —what can I say, they were going over horribly boring material and I preferred to be clucking about in the world, finding interesting matters to peck at— and OK… maybe those were the days they talked about how to deliver assignments–

Oh great! Just what I needed! A remedial Chicken on his first assignment–

Don’t worry, Heidi. I think you and I will get on just fine. Plus? I have Chicken supervision making sure I am helping you in the best way possible. And oh but I’ve been dying to get paired up with you!

Come again?

I’ve been reading what you write for awhile and I was crossing my chicken wings that I’d get you. And I did, I did! And too? I got a special commendation letter from the Headmaster of the Chickens I can show you it if you want– [reaches under left breast]

No that won’t be necessary. So, what’s your suggestion?

How about some soft boiled eggs? Two. With salt and pepper. Huevito a la copa, as you said growing up. Or Weich gekocht, as you also said growing up. Eggs in all your languages. Eggs with your words. I know you love to play with words–

[Crying again]. Chicken?

Yes, love?

Could it be that words could become some kind of home for me?

Oh for sure, my sweet. For you, for sure. In many ways, they already are. They’re how you come back to yourself. They’re how you listen to you. They’re also how you connect to the world.

And taste?

Oh absolootely. Ahem. Not for nothing I said eggs.

And smells?

Yes, sweetheart, of course.

[crying again] But I want the people of the smells.

Of course, love. And right now there just aren’t any around, and the people you were hoping to connect with in the home kind of way you aren’t feeling it with… But dare I say there are others that you do feel connected with?

Yes. Like the lovelies I knew only online that I got to meet in person last week and it was just great. And even though my gentleman friend and I had a hard time yesterday, after a hard time last week, well, there are some ways he sometimes smells like home.

Good find.

But I want it to feel that way all the time. And it doesn’t when things are hard, which is especially when I want home. And then, when it’s so hard, my mind goes to all the necks that once were home, and I feel soooo sad. I’m afraid there will never be home like that again.

No, my love, there won’t. I won’t lie to you. That is sad. My feathers don’t mind some tears, really. And I hear that some of your friends have hankies, silken ones. Now might be a good time for those.

[Crying ensues for several minutes].

OK Sweetpea. How about getting to our Chicken Plan for today!

Can you please just tell me what’s next?

I did. I already told you.

You mean the eggs?

Yes, I mean the eggs!

And after?

Well, you’ll just have to come back and check in again. I am a one-egg-at-a-time-chicken.

But you said two eggs, to cook two?

That’s because I know one wouldn’t be enough for you. Just come back after your eggs, alright? I’ll have your next Red-Eye Recovery Operation Home mission for you then.

OK.

Oh! Heidi! I almost forgot. You will need a chicken-code to contact me for your next mission.

Yes?

“Softboiled”

Of course.

Soft boiled eggs, per Chicken instruction.

~ * ~

[punching into keypad]: #7638264533

Yes? Can I help you?

Um, hi! Chicken, it’s me! Remember? I did the code. [Whispers]: softboiled

Lemme see your eye? Bring it over to the Operation Home Mission-Heretofore-Impossible eye scanner, would you, and then look straight ahead?

[digital code confirmation information activation sounds]

OK. Identity confirmed: eye previously known as red, proceed. I will buzz you in and then you must remove your clothes and step into that there softest of all robes awaiting you and then go into the secret sauna where your next mission will be uploaded to your hands and arms, feet and legs.

Hands and arms? What about my brains?

Oh no, sweetpea. Chicken missions require hands, feet and limbs. We bypass the brain, thankyouverymuch. For some missions —many chicken missions, actually— brain power is highly overrated. We chickens know.

OK.

How were your eggs?

Soft and yummy.

Good.

Um, chicken? I’m still on the street here in case you forgot, you going to buzz me in or what?

Oh lordy, of course. Proceed as instructed.

——

I get buzzed in to find a purplebluewithshadesofgreen robe (with silk hankies in pockets) on my right. I put it on and proceed to the chicken sauna to await upload of next step in Operation Home (a.k.a. mission-heretofore-impossible) to my hands and feet.

Later in the day I visit The Pause, my new favorite spot, where my Chicken has an undercover agent relay my next assignment which involves Ninja, Ninja practice.

And tonight finds me writing this here note, which you there, dear reading visitor, now find yourself reading. There is more, of course, but that, like my full agent name, is classified. If I told you I’d have to kill you. And that wouldn’t be good.

COMMENT ZEN:

Hi! Come in, come in! I love company. The kettle’s on the stove for tea. And, of course, there are plenty of soft boiled eggs.

If you’d be so kind, please leave your shoulds at the door (even though I know the advices you might be thinking are oh-so-well-meant!) — they tend to track in winter mud.

What I’d love? Maybe you’ll “get!” what I’m talking about. And maybe you’ll feel less alone with you own hard stuff. Maybe you have your own version of homesickness to tell about. Those are the things I’d love to hear over tea and eggs.

Categories: Heidi's Musings, Mood detective | Tagged: , , | 5 Comments

Meet me at The Pause?

Posted by | February 14, 2011 | 9 Comments

The Pause, my favorite new spot. It’s on the corner of Now and Notice, where that old dive, Reaction, used to be. Happy hour every day. Come in any attire, including tears. All moods are welcome.

Hottest bartender, his name is Presence. Ask him for their signature drink, Patience. Not sure what their secret ingredient is, but from what I can figure it’s got some muddled Time, macerated in oak barrel-aged Joy. Seriously, best drink ever. Get drunk on it. Even the hangover is great.

Categories: Heidi's Musings | Tagged: , | 9 Comments

Hop on over to Cranky Fibro Girl’s blog. We got to be her “inaugural soothers”!

Posted by | February 9, 2011 | Leave a Comment

Hi. Heidi’s biz partner here, hoof-typing this note while she’s off getting her prebirthday day massage. (Yay! I am the happy when she gets a massage!)

I’ll be quick.

The snarky, sassy and always lovely Cranky Fibro Girl is starting a tradition on her blog. Wednesdays will be all about soothing. And on this first day of her series she has interviewed Heidi.

If you don’t like to know secrets, don’t read it. Because Heidi went and told the main magic in our potions. This morning I was all, “What! You go and tell our secrets without consulting your biz partner?”

To which she said, “Bite me!”

Really. I think she’s been sniffing a bit too much of our Sassypants potion. Cheekypants, more like–

Anyway. That is all.

Oh. The linky bit… almost forgot! Here you go: A-Little-Bit-of-Soothing-Wednesdays: Heidi and The Aardvark pay us a visit.

Tell Cranky Fibro Girl I said hi. I ♥ her!

Signed,

The Aardvark

P.S. If you’re reading this in a reader and have trouble with that link, just copy and paste this URL into a browser: http://www.jennyryan.com/?p=4869

Categories: Aardvark Essentials, Minding my biz, Self-care | Tagged: , | Leave a Comment

It’s freaking courageous to relax! (Plus, 3 ways to save $ on massages)

Posted by | February 4, 2011 | 1 Comment

And there was much rejoicing…

A few days ago I had a massage.

It helped EV-ree-thing! My mood, my body, my sleep, and even –EVEN!– my tolerance for the stormiest winter ever. Enh… what’s a bit o’ snow!

It might be what I do for work, but really it’s no different for me: I too get busy. Sometimes I also look at my checking account to see if I can afford a session of my favorite-ever form of self-care.

But after last week’s session I added a monthly (at least) massage to my list of self-care aspirations for the year. Right alongside sitting quietly and doing nothing for 20 minutes every day (some people call this mindfulness meditation– and yes, there’s a bit more to it than doing nothing. Maybe).

Right along with drinking a big mug of warm water first thing in the morning and eating foods that are yummy AND agree with me. (As recommended by my wonderful Ayurvedic practitioner, Amba Greene).

Right alongside going to bed when my body is tired, and yes, siestaing it up when I feel the urge, inspired by my friend Lisa Baldwin’s brilliant wee-book Take That Nap, which may be wee in length but is zoom zoom zoom on inspiration and guidance.

Some of my aspirations seem like no-brainers, no? But sadly, self-care no-brainers are sometimes the first to get left behind when I get busy and start believing the thought that I cannot afford to rest. Which is simply untrue.

Because rest? It’s vital.

And also? It helps everything, including and maybe, especially, creativity.

And also too:

It’s freaking courageous to relax!

Have you noticed that when you’re relaxed less guarded? More open-hearted?

It’s easy to be defensive. It takes courage to be relaxed!

(The rest of this post applies to folks in the United States, and/or in the Cambridge, Massachusetts area, which is where my massage practice, Heidi’s Table, lives. If you live here too, you’re welcome to come see me!)

Speaking of checking accounts…

I have some massage $-saving ideas. I hope you can use all three of them, but even one of them should make you the happy!

Way 1 to save bocoup massage bucks:

Does your employer offer a Flexible Spending Account (FSA)? Sometimes these are called flex plans, or reimbursement accounts…

They do? Awesome!

Did you know that you can use your pre-tax monies to pay for your massages? Seriously! Best thing ever, right? If your employer offers this and you are not using it to pay for our sessions, um… how to say this… why the hell not?!

Using your FSA monies for massage can mean a savings of, give or take, 30% on your sessions. Several of my clients do this.

(If you’ve had sessions with me in the last few months that you’d like to claim for your FSA, let me know– I’d be happy to email you a receipt. And, going forward, just ask me for a receipt at the end of your session.)

They don’t? Oh boo. Some of us don’t have FSA’s.

But wait! There are other ways to save!

Way 2:

You can purchase a 6-hour Series of Massages with me for $486. That’s a 10% savings.

I’m quite flexible about how you use your series: You can split your 6 hours up into sessions of 60, 75 or 90 minutes. (Because sometimes 60 is fine, and sometimes you reeeeally want a long one, right?)

You can also share your hours with someone else. If you and your hubby or BF or GF or BFF like getting massages, you can share your series with them. Or maybe your friend is pregnant or just had a baby and you’d love for her to get a much-needed massage with a therapist with advanced training in peri-natal massage. Ahem.

If you want to share one of your sessions as a special gift, I’m happy to give you a gift certificate or send your gift recipient a special email.

All I ask is that you use the sessions within 6 months. Think of the 6-hour series as an investment, a commitment, to taking care of gorgeous you.

Also. ALSO!

Way 3 to save extra bocoup massage bucks:

As in, 50% off the full price of your next session!

If you refer a new client to me and they get a massage this winter (through March 21), I will offer you your next session (through April) at 50% of the full price.

Awesome for you, awesome for your friend, and awesome for me! <mwah!!!>

Speaking of massage…

Now you want one, right?

I have a few openings left this week.

TODAY Friday, 2/4: 5:15 p.m.
Saturday, 2/5: 9:30 a.m. or 2:15 p.m.

Next week:

Thursday, 2/10 (1 opening left): noon, 1:30 or 3:30 p.m.
Friday, 2/11 (3 openings left): noon, 1:15 p.m., 2:30 p.m. or 5:30 p.m.
Saturday, 2/12: 3:00 p.m. or 4:30 p.m.

Call 617.297.2266 or email me to claim your spot. (If you don’t see a time that works for you, just ask. Sometimes things shift).

——–

I so look forward to seeing you soon. Until then, I wish you warmth, laughter, grace for the hard stuff, and a mug filled with the magical spirits of whatever you most need today!

xo

Heidi

—–
Heidi E. Fischbach

Massage therapist, mood detective and potion-mixer

You have a body. You have a mind. But they don’t always get along.
I can help.

www.heidistable.com
617.297.2266

Categories: Massage Therapy, Self-care | Tagged: , | 1 Comment

Pardon all the pronouns but Whitman was right: I am vast. I contain multitudes.

Posted by | January 31, 2011 | 23 Comments

Heidi, for the love of all you love, do not do another thing until you write. And definitely, most definitely, do not talk to him —or anyone, for that matter— until you write. And also? Permission not to believe any of your thoughts, especially the conclusions your mind jumps to when you’re anxious. And, under no circumstances make decisions right now, promise?

OK. But there’s so much and it’s all a-jumble and I don’t know where to start—

That’s OK. Just write it how it is. Just start. That is all.

OK. It’s like this…

~ * ~

There’s how I go all know-it-all on his ass when, thing is, I don’t really know. I mean, I do, but when I get all know-it-all, it’s not Heidi-that-knows, but a part of me that’s scared.

The me that knows is calm and clear, and knowing is not a big deal to her. She is strong, but she never needs to act strong. There’s no need for her to defend or argue, or be pushy and bossy about what she knows. After all, she’s in no hurry and she knows that deep down everything is OK. If she’s not happy with something, she simply moves on. Or changes it, no muss no fuss. Or goes home. Or simply leaves the room. Simply, is key.

But not so with know-it-all me, who really just knows how to sound like she knows. When really, she’s scared. And secretly she wants to cry. Like today, about how much she wanted him to hold her last night.

She’s also afraid she’ll mess up and do something stoopid. And believe me, she knows from stoopid.

And too? She is prone to hyperbole. Basically, she does whatever she thinks it takes to maintain connection. But, her estimation of things is always clouded by fear and the action that comes from that is, necessarily, conflict-ridden. And certainly not clear.

Why hello there, Sweetpea. Come in from the cold. You look like you could use a warm meal. Here… we’ve a place for you at the table. But first, let me get you a cozy sweater and some flannels. Oh my, your left leg is all wet… If I didn’t know better I’d say you’d been lying on your side in the snow!

Then there’s this other part who’s ashamed.

Now, you and I know that shame never helps —not really, although it means well. What shame actually does is make people go into hiding. And there, in hiding, things cannot get better. Know why? Because shame tends to hide in closets. Or attic crawl spaces. Or basements. And, know what all those places have in common? Yep, they’re cramped, for one. For two, there’s no fresh air. Nada. Zippo!

Hiding places of shame are stuffy and damp. Not to mention dark. And there, in the company of shame, one’s thoughts tend to go all merry-go-round. Minus the merry. And there’s a good reason minus-the-merry-go-rounds never made it into amusement parks. Ahem. So, in short: with shame you go round and round, minus the merry, in a cramped, dank, dark space.

Hiya! Come in. The more the, uh… merrier!

“Oh god! I got here as quick as I could. Know-it-all has been up to her shenanigans, and if I don’t take her into hiding quickly she’ll get all dramatic and mess everything up.

Everything?

Yes! Heidi’s relationship, and her work, and her life… I’m so worried. I don’t ever want her to ruin things again. I don’t want Heidi to end up alone, and surely she will if I don’t stop this part.

Ahhh… you’re all out of breath and oh my but you look like you’ve had no sleep in days. Let’s run you a tub. There’s a lovely claw-foot porcelain bathtub upstairs and the towels will be warm from where they’re hanging over the stove by the time you’re done. And then, if you want, you can join us for dinner. We’d love to have you at our table. What do you say? Want to come in for a spell?

~ * ~

Tara Brach taught me to ask it like this:

If I weren’t feeling self-righteous, what would I be feeling?

Powerless. Vulnerable.

If I weren’t being defensive, what would I be feeling?

Scared. Afraid all the love will disappear.

~ * ~

The therapist lady said this:

“Extreme need and distress brings about extreme action.”

They’d been talking about That Thing from more than 20 years ago. That Thing with the repercussions. That Thing with the regret she sleeps with. That Thing she wants to understand.

It wasn’t like she woke up one day and said ‘today I will make this thing up.’ If anything, she was obsessive about telling the truth.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to hurt him. Although for sure, she sees now, she was angry. And anger was not acceptable then.

It wasn’t that she wanted to tear her family apart. It wasn’t that she wanted her parents to stop being missionaries and for her dad to get a job delivering spring water.

It wasn’t like that. And yet it was.

More on this can’t be written out loud, except for that bit. Not yet, at least. But there it is, somehow related to everything. She’s piecing together the clues. She’s the detective of her life. And, if nothing else, That Thing has made her plumb the depths of herself and look in the places where monsters tend to hide.

“Extreme need brings about extreme action.”

~ * ~

The bit that happened yesterday afternoon…

You handed me an olive branch. I couldn’t look at you —I felt shy and I was still licking my wounds from our fight, from being all defensive— but I nodded. It was my best yes to your branch.

Then you rubbed my back with potions. Then you wrapped me in the comforter and I fell asleep, I think. When I woke up you were outside shuffle-ing, as you say it, the remnants of another installment of Winter 2011: the year of the weekly snowstorm. And playing with Jennie, the Shepherd.

I looked out and felt myself soften then tighten again. Then I went to the kitchen.

Two eggs were in the pan sunny side up. A plate of guacamole on the counter. I knew you’d left them for me. I ate quietly, looking at you through the window.

Finally I bundled up and went out and the three of us —man, dog, and woman girl— went for a walk in the snow on the frozen lake.

I was quiet. I felt at the mercy of things very old and I didn’t want another round of reaction. I didn’t want to be defensive. I did not want to be self-righteous. And pretending never agreed with me. So pretty much I was quiet.

And then I felt like crying. So I told you to go ahead, that I wanted to take my time.

I watched you walk away… Jennie, stopping to look back at me every so often before turning back to catch up with you, her master.

And then I lay down in the snow. And I looked at the bare trees in the setting sun. And I thought of Mary Oliver and the line in that one poem about sleeping in the forest, about how the earth took her back so tenderly… And that’s what made me cry: the kindness of it.

And I said, to no one in particular, “I just don’t know how to do it.” I was referring to relationships, of course.

Whoever I was talking to answered back, “Join the club.” They didn’t say it meanly, but just like that, matter-o’-factly, “Join the club.”

I went on, “But it’s hard and I’m no good at it. Pretty much I suck.”

And again, “Join the club.”

I lay there for a few minutes watching the last light playing on the treetops. A secret part of me wondered: Would you notice? Would Jennie ever run back for me?

~ * ~

She’s been around for a while. The me, that is, who wondered those things as I lay in the snow. For sure she was there 20 some years ago. She’s very young. And she so wants to be noticed. To know she matters. For kind eyes to see her. Really, I’m the only one that can take care of her, even though sometimes I wish you could. But it’s not your job. Good thing about My Inner Council. They’re a big help. I wish I’d had them 20 years ago.

Um, excuse us, Sweetheart, but we were there.

You were?

Yep.

Well then why the hell ever did you not speak up! Whyever did you not let me know? I could have used a little help, thankyouverymuch.

Aww, Sweetie, you couldn’t yet see us. You didn’t know how to look inside. And you couldn’t hear us. You really didn’t know how to listen yet, remember? You had no idea. It wasn’t until you read Letters to a Young Poet that day in the bookstore that things started to shift a wee bit. You glimpsed inside, and you got curious. And even though Rilke had written those letters a century before to a young man in the army, he might as well have written them to you. He described the world inside. He got things you’d never talked about with anyone. And he told you about the rooms with the locked doors. And to not worry so much about trying to pry them open. And he told you to love the questions. What a notion that was. And what a relief, remember? Because being desperate for answers when the answers aren’t ready to be understood can take its toll on a girl.

Wait. Rilke is on My Inner Council, too?

You should know. We’re your Council.

But why didn’t you tell me I could call on you for help!

Oh, Sweetie. Remember how literal you were? I mean, you still believed in an actual lake-of-fire hell. And in a heaven with streets of gold and mansions floating in clouds.

True enough.

But we were there.

When else?

Remember the Morning Glories?

Of course. But they were for realz, flesh and blood ladies. Not just inside.

Oh Sweetheart, inside, outside: same, same. You’ll see. You already are.

~ * ~

Postscript. Last night:

You: “I took a picture of you earlier.”

Me: “When?”

You: “You were lying in the snow. I thought you might want to remember.”

~ * ~

Comment Zen:

I would love your company. Pull up a chair, there’s always room for one more at the table. Bring your parts, your me’s, too, if you want. And love notes. And mugs of magical spirits. And stories or thoughts of how you can relate. And feel free to pull out your ukulele. But please, leave your shoulds at the door. Here’s some cozy slippers for while you’re here. Thanks for stopping by.

Categories: Mood detective | Tagged: , , | 23 Comments

Mood detective, heal thyself!

Posted by | December 1, 2010 | 8 Comments

I like to ask my clients how they’d love to feel when they leave their session. In addition to helping us set an intention wave a magic wand, their answer gives me a sense of how they are doing, what they are struggling with, even if we never ever discuss the specifics of their life, which mostly we don’t. (After all, I am not a psychotherapist).

Sometimes they say: “I want to feel calm like you.”

The first time I heard this I’m quite sure I laughed. I thought: “If you only knew!”

These days I don’t laugh. First off, they are serious. Second, it’s not about me. I know this because I too have people that are to me just what I am to my clients and it is a gift for me to recognize calm when I see it. Calm (or any quality) is in the eye of the beholder. For sure. Third, if I look honestly I see that I am calm and present for my clients. It is, after all, no mistake that I do what I do. Learning calm is probably my biggest life learning.

The last few days have been hard for me. I have not felt calm. At all.

If you read my blog, you probably know that I’m a big fan of “channeling” people.

“Channeling?” you might ask, thinking it’s some special or weird quirky thing I can do.

I can assure you, anyone can do this. (Although for sure, I’m quirky).

What I do is keep a mental list of people I admire for certain qualities. During hard times, or even just when I’ve exhausted options of how to deal with something, I bring them to mind. Some of these people, like, oh, Clint Eastwood to name just one, are on My Inner Council, and that simply means that when things get reeeeally hard, I call an inner meeting to which only the smartest, kindest, and yes, sometimes bad-assest, people are invited and we have us a pow-wow.

A pow-wow?

Yep. Although we’ve never passed around a pipe and now I’m wondering why the heck not… But pretty much My Inner Council pow-wows consist of me saying straight up how it is and them listening and every so often asking me the best, get-to-the-heart-of-the-matter question ever, during all of which I am pretty much writing everything down. Because, hello! If the Dalai Lama says something to me, you bet your ass I’m writing it down.

Anyway…

Sometimes I have dialogs with these people I channel. Of course, most of them I’ve never actually met. But, no matter. In fact, even better. Because what these people really help me do is see myself and what’s around me, in a new way. They help me recognize and develop existent, yet dormant, qualities within myself. Takes one to know one, and all that.

(And if I ever do meet Cesar Milan, Clint Eastwood, Mary Oliver, the Dalai Lama, Isadora Duncan, Johnny Depp, Hiro Boga, J.K. Rowling, Maya Angelou, or Leonard Cohen, maybe I will thank them. Probably, I will just be dumb-founded. Or drooling.)

This morning, in a moment that “Losing It” was made for, I began to write, wondering whom to channel. And just like that I knew: I need to channel me. Specifically, how I am with my clients:

Calm.
Listening.
Balanced.
Smart.
Kind.
Sense of humor.
Sensitive.
Strong.
Confident.
Open-hearted.

—————

Me: Hi, Heidi. Come in, come in… How are you doing today?

Heidi: [about to burst into tears] Oh, there’s so much. It’s too much. I look at so-and-so and so-and-so and how well they’re doing, and how together their life is and how happy they are… and when things feel like today, my life just looks shitty… There must be something wrong with me.

Me: [nodding] There’s so much happening right now and it’s all seeming like too much–

Heidi: Mostly, it feels way too crowded.

Me: Crowded?

Heidi: My thinking! It’s crowded! Exclamation points! Flashing billboards on the highway kind of crowded in my head. It’s driving me crazy.

Me: Oh yes, I understand. Sounds overwhelming. Tell me… how would you love to feel when you leave your session today? What quality, feeling or state of mind do you need?

Heidi: I’d like a sense that no matter what is going on, no matter what is coming at me, no matter what, I am OK.

Me: Ahh yes, that is a very wise thing to want. Rather than wanting your circumstances to change, you want to feel that you are OK no matter what.

Heidi: Yes. Whether or not the relationship works out, I am OK. Whether or not my loved ones are healthy, I am OK. Whether or not I get all the clients I need this month before the holidays, I am OK. Whether or not I get all the Aardvark Essentials new things I want to put up on my website up or not, I am OK. Whether or not someone I love ever wants to see me again, I am OK. Whether or not I make my rent, I am OK.

Me: Ah yes.

Heidi: You know what that would be like?

Me: Tell me–

Heidi: That would be like the highways in Vermont, where they don’t have any advertisements or billboards or flashy lights, only directional signs indicating what the exit number is, or the town name, or how many miles to the next rest stop…

Me: Ahh yes. So, things right now feel more like the highway in New York or New Jersey, rather than Vermont?

Heidi: Exactly so.

Me: I wonder if you could tell me how you would know you are OK… I mean, OK could come knocking on your door and how would you know that’s who it is… In other words: how would it feel in your body? How would it be in your mind? In your heart?

Heidi: Well, take I-91 in Vermont. My eyes are free to move about slowly or quickly but without getting assaulted or interrupted by lights and noise and information, which is what it feels like inside of me when I’m overwhelmed… it’s like my attention keeps getting assaulted.

Me: Oof! That is hard.

Heidi: It makes everything be on edge.

Me: I can see that. Tell me more about how would you know that you are OK no matter what?

Heidi: [takes big, gentle breath and slows down to ponder... already there is an observable change]… I would walk confidently, knowing the ground holds me. [laughs] I’m not too heavy for the ground. And I would allow gravity to help me move as I need to.

Me: What do you mean?

Heidi: Well, I’d let gravity bring my shoulders down so they’re not hunched up to my ears. Also, my breathing would be longer and calmer. My heart would feel open and soft. I might cry and that’d be OK. Lately I’ve been too stoppered up and uptight and scared and feeling hard and protected to even cry.

Me: Hmmmm… Heidi, I can see that you know exactly how to feel OK no matter what. Even as you were telling me these things I saw them happen.

Heidi: But why do I feel overwhelmed so often?! There must be something wrong with me.

Me: Sweetpea, I want to tell you a secret that’s not really a secret. Most people feel overwhelmed sometimes. And a good many people feel overwhelmed a lot of the time. They might mask it, but they do. And overwhelm can feed on itself and then that makes it stronger… People do things to keep their overwhelm at bay but those things are temporary distractions, at best. Keeping something at bay doesn’t really make it go away. What do you think all that endless checking and texting and refreshing of screens is all about? Most folks don’t even sit down to sip on a hot cup of something without reading or refreshing some screen or another… Do you really think they are enjoying those things when they do them like that? Just look around, love… start noticing… we aren’t bad for doing those things, but I’m telling you this to invite you to notice, and hopefully feel less unique about the overwhelm…

Heidi: [quiet]

Me: I can tell you really care about taking care of yourself and living with an open heart, Heidi. Could I invite you to consider something?

Heidi: Yes–

Me: When you are feeling overwhelmed, like everything is crowded and noisy and too much… is believing “There is something wrong with me” a kind and helpful thing to think?

Heidi: Not really. It actually makes me spin faster, and then, in addition to feeling the crowdedness in my head, I then start trying to figure out how to fix myself, all because I’m panicked that there’s something wrong.

Me: Exactly.

Heidi: But I can’t help it. I just think it. All of a sudden, there is that thought: There’s something wrong with me.

Me: Right. You don’t make the thought happen. It’s not your fault. It’s actually not anyone’s fault. But you can notice it. And once you notice, amazing things can happen.

Heidi: Amazing things? Like feeling calm?

Me: Possibly. We think we have to change things. To fix them. To make them better. But simply noticing and paying attention is the #1 ingredient of kind, non-violent change. And kind, non-violent change is the kind of change that sticks. Change that’s been forced, always tends to backfire.

Heidi: OK, so I notice the thought, and then what?

Me: Well, you could then do many things. One of my favorite is to say hello.

Heidi: Come again?

Me: “Hello there Thought that there is something wrong with me. Funny you should come by today. Things are rather busy, in case you couldn’t tell. Feel free to sit and make yourself comfy in that chair over there, or you can even hang out with me, but you should know that I can’t entertain you. I have a life I’m dying to live and also, I’m learning to stay calm.”

Heidi: Hunh! That’s interesting. So you aren’t trying to kick the thought out?

Me: Nah. Never works. It’ll come back to bite you in the ass, and probably at some ungodly hour when you’re trying to sleep. But you can say hello. You can laugh with it. And you can treat it kindly. Or you can drop it off at your friend’s house for them to keep an eye on while you do your stuff… But, once you notice the thought, you are onto it, baby, and you don’t have to believe it. So, Heidi, how’d it be if the thought “there’s something wrong with me” popped up but you were totally onto it?

Heidi: Hmm…. I think I’d be able to notice my panic and the crowded billboards in my mind more calmly. Hmm… I’d notice panic calmly. Hunh! Is that even possible?

Me: You just saw it in your mind’s eye, didn’t you?

Heidi: Hmmm… Kind of like the medical people and EMTs who come to the scene of an accident… How unhelpful would it be if they arrived and were all: “Oh noes! You’ve broken your arm! Oh noes. What the hell is wrong with you!”

Me: Exactly.

Heidi: Ahhhhh… Thanks, Heidi. I want to be calm like you.

Me: You’re on your way, Sweetpea, you’re on your way. Now, how about that massage?

Heidi: Oh yes. My favorite!

Categories: Massage Therapy, Mood detective | Tagged: , | 8 Comments

anatomy lessons + traffic analogies to get you through the holidays

Posted by | November 23, 2010 | Leave a Comment

Think of what it feels like to wear tight shoes. Not so good. No matter how cute or dapper they are, secretly you can’t wait to get them off. And when you do, you’ll probably rub your feet to bring them relief, to get some circulation back… Ahhhh…

When we are stressed out, our muscles and fascia clench and tighten. (Fascia is the connective tissue that covers and holds our muscles together). Our muscles become, in effect, like tight shoes around our nervous and circulatory systems. And, circulatory and nervous systems are meant to…

Yes? you in the back?

Circulate… flow… and move…

Ding ding ding ding! Brilliant.

When cars can’t circulate, we get traffic jams. In our bodies, traffic jams feel like knots. Like spasms. Like headaches. Like pains in the neck. Basically, like OW!

That’s because tight muscles squeeze our blood flow and irritate our dear nerve endings. No one likes to be pinched and irritated, and nerves are no exception.

Thing 1 to do, or rather NOT do, is to feel bad about it. Feeling bad about feeling tight and tense is like adding insult to injury.

Remember, our bodies are programmed to contract and clench when we sense that something is wrong… (Now, whether something actually IS wrong, is a whole ‘nother matter, but for today let’s just stay with bodies and what to do when we are wearing our muscles like tight, albeit cute, shoes).

Also, forget about telling yourself to “Just relax.” Really. Don’t. It’s annoying. You would have if you could have. ‘Cause you’re smart like that.

Thing 2. Notice kindly. That is, notice and be kind about what you find.

Close your eyes and do a little body scan. How are things in your body right this second? Any sluggish traffic? Any jams? (Pay special attention to the shoulders, head and neck, and the low back/butt as these are major traffic rotaries in the body.)

Any places of tightness, discomfort or pain?

See if you can notice your places of tension with all the kindness in the world. Maybe even say “hello,” as if you’re just meeting this thing for the very first time. Treat your tension like an interesting person you don’t know. Stay curious. Stay kind.

Channel the Dalai Lama if you have to. Channel Glinda the Good. Find someone who is the picture of kindness and patience, and be that person onto yourself. Go ahead. Make them up. Borrow them from a movie or story.

Sometimes it helps to put your hand on the place of ow. Ahh… (I swear I just heard your body saying, “Thank you for noticing.”)

Thing 3. Breathe.

I love this one. Know why? Because, dude! You’ve already got that one pretty much covered! You’ve been breathing without a second thought for how many years now?

But for purposes of easing tension, I would like you to give it a second thought.

When we are stressed out, we take short, barely-getting-by kinds of breaths. They get us by, for sure, but you know what? Short breaths mean that your neck muscles have to pinch hit to help you breathe. And helping you breathe is not your neck muscles’ main function.

Neck muscles are meant to support your head. And to help it do all sorts of spectacular things like turning, bending, and extending… Neck muscles would really rather be turning to get a second look at loveliness (ooh ahh ooh ahh!). Or tilting your head back to gaze at a starlit sky (oooh!). Or bowing your head in a moment of reverence.

Good news: There IS an organ/muscle that gets super excited about helping you breathe. In fact, you could say that this organ’s life mission is to help you breathe.

“You, meet your diaphragm.”

There is nothing your diaphragm would rather being doing than breathing for you. Think about that for a sec. Breathing… for… you! Wow.

“Nice to meet you, Diaphragm,” you might be saying, “and, I know you’re inside me somewhere, but where exactly are you?”

Put your hands just below your ribs, where your solar plexus or gut is, and take a deep belly breath in. Did you feel your hands rise? Right there is where your diaphragm is.

When my clients are stressed out and I notice that their thoughts have not stopped spinning, I sometimes place my hand there lightly and invite them to picture a balloon right there, under my hand…

Go ahead and try it now, if you want: when you inhale deeply, you will feel the balloon expanding, filling up with air. When you exhale, you are letting all the air out. Take a few gentle, deep breaths… In and out… Innnnnn and Ouhhhhhht. Ahhhh…

When you’re stressed out, remember your balloon, say hello to your diaphragm, and let it do what it loves to do for you.

Thing 4. Drink a tall glass of water. (Room temperature is best).

Remember, circulation! Nothing like water to move things, and to keeping them lubricated.

Plus, drinking water will make you pee and peeing is your body’s brilliant way of getting rid of things that no longer belong. (Also, an added perc this time of year? Taking a bathroom break means you get a break from the noisy relatives.)

I can’t wait to see you again. And if you live in or will be visiting Boston, yes, there are still openings for massage sessions this Saturday, 27 November (yep! after Thanksgiving).

Also, the aardvark (of Aardvark Essentials thankyouverymuch) and I have put our heads together and come up with That Time of Year Potion Sets. There’s one called Holiday Sanity. Another called Holiday Comfort. And another called Celebrate. We think you will LUV them!

Until next time, lovely peoples, wishing you all the ease in the world,

Heidi

—–
Heidi E. Fischbach

Massage therapist, mood detective and potion-mixer

You have a body. You have a mind. But they don’t always get along. I can help.
617.297.2266

Do you know someone that would love my massage therapy and mood detective work? I’d love it if you forwarded this entry to people you love. [And, mwah!]

Categories: Massage Therapy, Self-care | Tagged: , | Leave a Comment
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