Massage Therapist, Structural Integrationist
I've been in practice since February 2006, pondering the human form and it's biomechanical functionality. I went to the first IASI conference that was in Boston in 2007, in association with the first Fascia Research Congress held in October of 2007 by Harvard. As a result, I studied Structural Integration with George Kousaleous in Boston the following year, and have been practicing those skills since then. I am an iconoclast, I view myself as a collaborator with my client to solve the problem that inhibits their body from silently doing as it is asked as the ideal for which we strive together. It is a high bar, fleetingly achieved but a fascinating project requiring complex troubleshooting and problem solving.
In California I worked for an artist as a girl-friday, running errands and tidying up. I was ill suited to this tedious detail oriented domestic sort of duty, but I was a youngster making the best of my situation. I'd lived abroad and only recently gotten my driver's license, late as I approached my 23rd birthday in foreign California, a place that gave me deep culture shock.
I was driving a beautiful Chevy pickup, cherry red with a chrome grill and w rustic wooden truck bed. I was running errands, groceries, office supplies, cement. The truck had a tendency to lurch with the power steering, but I was instructed not to worry about, but just compensate. The cement was all dropped in the truckbed behind the right wheel.
I set off, new driver on California highway, in my new role running errands in my boss's cool truck, and as promised the truck lurched a bit to the right, and so I compensated.... and swerved, fishtailing along the highhway as I struggled to return the truck to the road without removing my foot from the gas. I smashed into the median turning as hard as I could and my necklace sailed off my head to be caught by the large pickup side view mirror. My right arm slammed into the steering wheel to stop me and I was flung back and sideways into the cab like a 100 pound rag doll.
The fuel pump belched into the air. The tank of acetylene in the back of the pickup hissed gently where it lay beside the dent it left in the barrier. Luckily, no spark was struck and there was no fireball, just a break in my lifeline that I view as that event to this day.
And that ripened for many years before I got treatment, another installment for the maturation of a youthful injury ignored...