Self Massage

Touch has always been powerful.

We instinctively use it to comfort others…
holding a hand when someone is scared,
hugging someone who is grieving,
laying a hand on someone in prayer.

But somewhere along the way,
we stopped offering that same touch and tenderness to ourselves.

We spend our days tending to everything around us…
cleaning, holding, organizing, maintaining the spaces we move through.
At the end of the day we clean the house, brush our teeth, shower away the grime, and make room for something fresh tomorrow.
Every time we reset our outer world, we feel it: that lightness, less mental chatter, deep breath returning.

And we know what happens when we don’t clear it: things become heavy, hoarded, hard to move through.
But the body, our inner landscape, is often left out of that same rhythm of care.

I like to think of the body as a garden

A living, changing space that requires attention,
love, warmth, and water if you want it to thrive.
Self-massage is one effective way to tend that garden on your own.
And I want to encourage all of my clients to practice it as a small ritual of self-reflection and love.

You have to shake hands with your own soil, loosen its grip
have a conversation with your foundation
and get to know the place you live in every single day.

You clear debris.
Soften what has hardened.
You make space for movement again.
Plant seeds and water the things you wish to keep cultivating.
Some areas will feel open, malleable, ready for growth.
But others will feel hardened, guarded…
like something beneath the surface has been thirsting.

This is where tension, stagnation, and blockages live.
Where the “weeds” begin to push through the dried-up cracks.
Where something is asking for your attention.
And this takes time: To feel, listen, and understand.
You can’t water the soil once and expect it to be soft by morning.
It takes consistency: watering, weeding, sunlight, patience, care.
And when you give it that attention over and over again, things begin to change.

One of my teachers once told me,
“You can only take your clients as far as you can take yourself.”

So I practice self-massage every day.
I check in with myself.
I explore the tension and where it travels.
I learn what release feels like,
so I can recognize it in someone else.

The more time you spend with your body in this way, the more intuitive you become.
You begin to trust what you feel.
You develop a sensitivity to your own needs.
You build confidence in your ability to care for yourself.
Self-massage becomes less of a foreign language
and more of a ritual of self-communication and care.

So tonight, or whenever you feel ready,
take a few moments to slow down.
Turn inward, and just begin.

Gardener (a closing ritual)

I invite you to close your eyes
(after you read this)
and hold your own hand

Trace your thumb firmly
over your other hand’s palm

Notice the friction of skin touching skin
each crease, each crevice
Which spots are hot or cold
move your fingers like antennas
tune in to the tender areas
and shake hands with every fiber of your being

Then go deeper.
Don’t force your way in, you’re guarded for a reason
If you take your time, your nervous system will trust you enough
to let you in

move slow, be patient
Thank your arms for all they have carried
be grateful your legs have gotten you this far
Search yourself and ask questions
What has this area of my body endured?
Where is this pain stemming from?

Listen to what your body is telling you