I just finished running my test workshop for the series I'm starting this fall - no surprise that it was ridiculous fun. What I didn’t expect, though, is that giving the workshop really caused me to reflect on how privileged I am to have been formally taught how to touch.
It's certainly not an original observation that our society could use a lot more healthy touch. It’s such a hard thing to find these days. All touch in the media seems to be overly sexualized or outright violent; parents and teachers shy away from touching other people’s children; even when we go to the doctor for muscular or joint dysfunction, we are more likely to be sent for an x-ray than for the doctor to make a manual assessment. Of course, I’m not suggesting that strong, healthy touch boundaries aren’t necessary. They are. What I am suggesting is that we’ve swung too far in the opposite direction. Touch and fear seem to be approaching each other with greater and greater speed. And it doesn’t need to be that way.
Tiffany Field and friends have shown quite definitively that children and adolescents who receive regular massage or who are taught healthy ways of massaging their peers are less likely to act out violently or otherwise inappropriately and also see greater cognitive function. Anecdotally, the same happens with adults. It makes sense, no? Everyone craves touch and it's essential to our emotional and physical well-being, but there are so few good role models for healthy touch in American culture. Most of us go through our school years never being taught the most basic physiological processes of our bodies; much less are we taught how to physically interact with others.
For me, the most profound example of this is that there is great ease and satisfaction while I’m working with someone on the table, but once the session is ended there is no longer any clear cultural protocol or boundary for how we should interact. As a therapist, I am waiting for a clear signal from them (is it going to be a handshake, a hug, a high-five?) and they are likewise watching me for what is expected. Often there is just an awkward “Ok, bye!” as they make their way toward the door. So, if a manual therapist feels this unclear, what must the non-therapist population experience daily?
I think that’s why I’m so entranced with the workshops. I love the idea of giving people these tools for their everyday life. After all, touch is such a powerful communication tool and it really is fun. And I think that once people begin to practice both the helpful body mechanics and the few technicalities behind massage, their relationships will be truly enhanced. At any rate, here’s hoping!