Everybody Has a Voice

When I was eight years old I remember feeling drawn to Africa. I knew I wanted to go there one day and no one knew where that desire started in me. The summer of 1999 I traveled with a student ambassador program to South Africa and got my first breath of African air. I distinctly remember feeling the African soil underneath me, cool and soft through my soles, and through my soul. It was then that I decided to travel to Africa as often as possible and fantasized about living part of the year somewhere on that beautiful continent. 

This may seem like an odd start to a blog dedicated to sharing my personal knowledge and wisdom of the voice of the body and how it communicates but it is all connected after all. You see, when I entered massage school ten years ago I did it on a whim; a notion thrown out by my then chiropractor, which seems to wrap itself up nicely in this little plot of my life considering that I now work for a chiropractor. There have been many times in my life when a path becomes evident to me but only the first few steps and I throw myself into it every time. In March of this year, after ten years as a licensed massage therapist and the month of my thirtieth birthday I made my way back to Africa by way of Zanzibar Tanzania as a volunteer massage therapist in a chiropractic clinic. 

This career has served me on levels that I couldn't possibly go into depth about and many that I am sure I take for granted at times. And slowly but surely it is transitioning with my natural evolution. I thought it might be about time to start letting the knowledge and experience I've gained with regards to insight into our bodies out where it is most easily accessible... the Internet! 

NONE of my posts should be considered medical advice so please be responsible with the information given here. I am not a doctor. I do not diagnose. This is observation, speculation and opinion based from my personal experience. I will adhere to HIPPA compliance regulation by fictionalizing patient names and disclude identifying details when using examples. In addition I am not a counsellor; although I'd make a damn good one!

My voice is soft in my mind. So soft it seems like an echo from my heart. It is simplistic, non-resistant. The first time it raises up its just a mere whisper, an idea really. It's always happy, well, at peace, yes, she's always at peace. She is quiet most of the time, leading through other subtle gestures; it's like being gently led by the direction of the wind. And when she speaks she says as little as is needed, "but, what if you could?" and "let go". Many years ago she said "write". I figured journalling was what that message meant and so I wrote in my plentiful journals. Notebooks of all kinds and casings with the first ten pages smeared with ambition, and then the bleak white out of fizzled plans. I wrote short stories and haikus, even tried rapid spoken word poetry like Andrea Gibson and the like. I felt sparks along the way but it didn't burn with the passion I need to pursue something. I took on my first blog when I left for Zanzibar to keep up friends and family who wanted to share in the adventure. (serviceinparadiseznz.blogspot.com) Those sparks turned to fire that grew inside of me and it burned a path for me to follow, one that excites me to follow. And so here we are again, and we'll see how it goes, beloved. We'll get to the body next time, I just wanted to say hello.