"He has this and that and this and that wrong with him," his lover had said. "I want you to make him better, because I can't," he'd gone on to explain.
I watched as this whole being in a partial body climbed slowly up the steps on his peg leg, the "real" one having been amputated less than a year ago. I t seemed a long way up from my vantage point at the top. Longer still for him
"No need to wait for us," I told his expectant lover: "we'll be just fine." I offered him tea, and we sat on the sofa and chatted like old friends. People have said about my bodywork that what I offer the client is safety. So does Trager: that's why I love the work.
Eventually we moved into the other room, the one with the table, the one I call the "being room" as opposed to the "thinking room." This was his first massage ever. This was the first time he had ever exposed his stump to anyone except his lover, the surgeon, and the physical therapist. This was also the first time he had cried for his mother who died of cancer just a week before he himself was diagnosed with cancer and lost his leg. And, although we had not discussed it, he knew the things his lover wanted me to "fix”: those were the real stairs he had climbed earlier (and, incidentally, made it to the top).
"Let the breath gently flow in, and watch it flow out again, only to return effortlessly. It is not necessary to hold onto the breath, there will always be more for as long as we need it." For me, having worked extensively in hospice. as well as for him, the words had extra meaning: trusting, watching, moving towards lightness and freedom, but also letting go, dying.
After the neck comes the right leg. Not even a whole leg to practice on first. Apprehension ... feels ... heavy... What could be lighter??? I knew "hello leg", but no one had included "hello stump" in the vocabulary. I was on my own - but not really: I have subsequently heard Milton say, "It is not what the hands are doing that is important."
And as the sheet went back and the stump appeared, it was like gathering a sleeping baby into my arms, ever so gently so as not to wake him from dreams of other realities. Ever so softly, the motion traveled downward in waves. How to describe what happened - well, use your feeling. The motion traveled all the way downward in waves and that afternoon I tragered my first phantom limb. We both saw it, we both felt it, and the partial body laughed and wept to be reunited with an old lost friend again.
Magic? Nope, just very very light and very very free. And if ever I have difficulty with that question again, I have only to remember John dancing on the table.
Thank you, Milton! Thank you to all the other persist ant angels who wouldn't let Milton go until he was finally convinced that Trager could be taught. And thank you to the rest of the Trager family, many of whom I met at the conference, and many of whom I shall meet over the years.
(this was one of my earlier practice sessions as a beginner student, but also one of my most profound)
| Panna Flower Application for Certification January 10, 1990 |
--- FLOWER PANNA
