While the role that the body plays in the realm of emotions has been recognized in the West as far back as the time of Freud, touching our client's bodies is strongly cautioned against by many experts and strictly forbidden by others.

Why explore Bodywork? Perhaps it is the rebel in me, a quest to learn of areas not deemed important enough or credible enough to teach me in graduate school. Perhaps this interest stems from the very same source that led me to experiment with drugs as an adolescent. Maybe it originates from my need for continuous expansion, exploration and growth.

In thinking back on my youth, I am reminded of a card that a father sent to his grown daughter years ago. On the front, the card depicts on the front, Santa Claus standing around a pole with his reindeer. Santa points at the pole and warns the reindeer not to stick their tongues on the pole. When you open the card, you see all the reindeer huddled around the pole, glued to it by their tongues. Santa is standing by with an all too recognizable and yet indescribable look on his face. The father signed the card, "Now I finally realize I have been blessed with reindeer children." I have never forgotten that card or this father who I've never met. Perhaps it is my own reindeer soul that calls me to areas beyond traditional boundaries. Whatever my motivation, it is my belief that we must be open to learn as much as we can in order to fully assist our clients. In rejecting only what I possess some understanding of first, and recognizing that what works for one individual can all too often fail another, I must then be prepared to reach out in as many forms as I can to reach where I at times must journey to. "Body work" may very well be one such form.

Recently, my daughter pulled some muscles in her neck while ice-skating. She was lying in bed the next day with a heating pad and asked, "Mommy, why does my neck hurt?" I was busy putting away clothes and answered her somewhat distractedly. "Because you hurt it, honey. When you fell down, you sprained muscles in your neck." "But why does it hurt, mommy" she asked again. I stopped what I was doing and sat down beside her. "Remember how I've told you that it is important to take care of your body? Well, when something happens that isn't good for your body, it tells you by hurting. It's like your body's way of talking to you, of crying for help and asking to be taken care of." She looked up at me with pained eyes that contained just a glimmer of hope and said, "If I take care of it right this minute, does that mean it will stop hurting?"

A client shared with me that a friend and her 15-year-old daughter, Lindsay, were visiting one day. They were sitting at the table catching up as they had not seen one another since her friend's daughter was three years-old. Her daughter got up from the table and was walking towards the bathroom, when all of the sudden her body jerked violently, and she grabbed the radiator, startling them all. My client asked what had happened, and she said that she wasn't sure; she just felt as though she was going to fall. Her mother then reminded them that when Lindsay was about 18 months old; she had tripped over a toy and fallen headfirst into the radiator. Her nose had been bloodied and her head badly bruised. Lindsay had not been to my client's house since that time, as the family had moved away, and she had no conscious memory of this.

Within the past few years, I have begun to utilize bodywork when there seem to be no words or images available to explain a client's feelings. I have been astounded on more then one occasion by the information stored within the body. I have no doubt that not only does the body send us messages, but that it also remembers what we often consciously do not.

Anne Wilson Schaef, in Women's Reality (1981), remarks that it is her belief that all therapists working with women should either be skilled in bodywork (work with breathing and tension in the body) or should work conjointly with someone who does. She contends that we must learn how to facilitate the removal of "body blocks" (tenseness, numbness, deadness, etc.) in order to assist our clients to experience their feelings and work with them constructively. Schaef found that in working with the body's breathing and tension, the length of therapy could shorten.

MASSAGE

Joan Turner, in a chapter entitled, "Let My Spirit Soar," from Healing Voices: Feminist Approaches to Therapy with Women (1990), describes how she integrates "body work" into psychotherapy focusing on the body while involving the mind, spirit, and soul.

Turner believes that the entry point to the body space and inner child is through the muscles. She uses a technique of deep tissue therapeutic massage. With her hands, thumbs and fingers, she focuses on the muscles that she describes as "needful" (tight, sore, knotted, and numb). The muscles respond by softening and relaxing, while the breath slows and deepens. The body begins to feel lighter. It is at this point that Turner believes awareness deepens. Turner proceeds to engage in psychotherapy while continuing to work on her client's body. She watches for signs from the body, responding to them, using them as cues to explore a particular issue or utilize a specific technique. She also calls the changes in the client's body to the client's attention, and they discuss the meaning of these changes, what the body is saying, what it needs, etc. Turner also utilizes journaling, homework assignments, etc. in her work with clients.

A client of Turner’s, in writing about her experience, reported that she has learned to perceive her body as a messenger of "transformational images" that serve to facilitate awareness and growth. She adds that she became aware of her body as a teacher, as sacred, to be cared for, listened to, and nurtured.

"Sensitive Massage" is a personalized approach to healing which utilizes deep-breathing techniques and internally directed body imagery. This technique is very similar to Taylor's work although it is not necessarily used in conjunction with psychotherapy.

Margaret Elke and Mel Risman (The Holistic Health Handbook, edited by Berkeley Holistic Health Center, 1978) describe the practitioner and client as functioning as a "meditative duet" during a sensitive massage session. Clients are urged to give over to what very often is a very sensual, nurturing experience. Elke and Risman believe that, during this process, clients may discover unconscious tensions, repressed emotions, and memory recalls, in addition to new pleasurable sensations. "Sensitive massage" often assists clients to become more aware, grounded and appreciative of their bodies.

"Sensitive Massage" is recommended for individuals who are in need of nurturing touch, who need to learn how to relax, who need to accept their sensuality, and who need to learn from their body language.