I have fallen behind on documenting my Rolfing experience.
Session 2 took place on February 4, as I was preparing to go to Costa Rica on the 11th, so I didn’t take time to write about it afterward.
Upon arriving home from Costa Rica, I got hit with a nasty cold and didn’t feel like writing or doing anything else for over a week.
Another reason I didn’t write about session 2 was that it seemed more subtle than the first session. I got no big epiphanies from my body, and had no huge shifts. There were some small things, but first, a description of the session from my Rolfer’s site:
Next we address your foundation. The feet and lower legs are opened and aligned to better support the body in gravity. Often clients feel a greater sense of support and balance from their feet, as well as better contact between their feet and the ground. Conditions such as high or fallen arches, plantar fasciitis, neuromas, knee pain and scar tissue are addressed in this session. Many clients report better balance and feeling more grounded after this work.
The major physical thing I noticed after this session was that my feet felt bigger over all, but mostly wider. Like they were a very large, stable foundation for my body. Kind of like duck feet.
This sensation has not persisted, but when I focus on perceiving my feet, it comes back some. There is also still a sense of stability and rootedness when I focus on my feet.
Other things I noticed:
- I’ve never had much tolerance for uncomfortable shoes, but now I have NONE. Just today I took a bunch of shoes to the Really, Really Free Market because I will never put them on my feet again due to discomfort.
- Increased awareness (and some frustration) that most seating doesn’t fit me. Often my feet do not touch the ground, or just my toes will touch. Car, office, and airplane seats try to impose curves where my back doesn’t curve—the worst is the airplane seat pushing my head forward. Usually, I’d rather be sitting on the floor than on one of these ill-fitting chairs.
- In Costa Rica, I was psychologically more sure-footed than I often am. I hopped on a zip line with no hesitation. I rode on a motorcycle. I went on hikes more difficult than any I’ve ever done. I jumped down “trails” that were more like rustic 2-3 foot tall stairs carved in the side of a dormant volcano and held in place by tree roots. My general attitude was, “I can do this.” With the earth supporting my balanced and sure steps, what can’t I do?
In session 2, we did benchwork for the first time. This is where I sit on a wooden bench with my feet flat on the floor, rolling forward one vertebrae at a time from the neck down while Bethany manipulates the muscles on either side of my spine, or simply touches them to remind me where the next movement should come from. Then, roll back up one vertebrae at a time, the same way.
With the benchwork, I had some anxiety come up related to the idea of not doing it right, of not knowing well enough where my body is in space. Fearing that I’d think my shoulders were over my hips when they weren’t. I realized that this taps into the fear of being perceived as crazy, which I didn’t know was still hanging around.
Bethany recommends going for walks or otherwise being gently active after a session, in order to support the greatest integration.
After this session, I fairly quickly found myself standing on a sidewalk for a couple of hours, wearing a fluorescent green hat as legal observer for the first Carrboro Commune occupation. I paced back and forth a lot instead of standing still, but it wasn’t an ideal activity for integrating the work of Session 2. Maybe this has something to do with the subtle effects of Session 2. Or maybe Session 2 was just not a big one for me.
Still, no part of the process has been painful for me. A little intense from time to time, but nothing I’d call pain. Bethany and I had an interesting discussion about how different people perceive the same stimulation very differently. Apparently many people would be jumping off the table at some of the things I don’t blink at.