Zen and the Art of (Manual) Therapy™
My sessions start like most, where there is a short interview/update, a sharing of information to tell me the present state of being. This time gives me feedback on what we've done and direction on where we need to go. Listen, then move forward into treatment. Today, one of my morning sessions started just this way, with reports of a sudden "POP" in the outer knee region during a certain motion. No apparent injury or worsening of the condition, just something needing to make itself known. My patient and I negotiated a direction for the treatment and we began.
Those of you who are familiar with my work know I have moved into a lighter brand of therapy. Myofascial release is often said to be lighter than other forms of manual therapy, but many do not practice what they preach and roll up their sleeves to bury their elbow into the body with regular frequency. Using principles of therapy based more on a sound, neurological approach has quieted me considerably during therapy. I was taught early in my MFR training not to coerce, but now I really see what this can mean.
So, I grabbed a piece of Dycem and enveloped my patient's fibular head region, moving in only as far as her body allowed, then waited for more information. 30 seconds into the technique, she asked if I practiced Zen. I suppressed a laugh, as with what little information I had about Zen, I felt myself the most un-Zen-like person I could imagine. I asked her what she meant and she went on to say that it seemed that when I put my hands on her I only move in enough to wait patiently for things to occur, rather than trying to create change by forcing my way in. She seemed to be describing zen (small Z) vs. Zen, not the spiritual/religious practice, and she thought that the way I was approaching her today was zen-like.
Forced to consult a dictionary for a better idea of what she meant, I found this on the Urban Dictionary:
zen
