I don’t have a foot fetish.  I actually have the opposite of a foot fetish.  A bit of foot fear.  A footaphobia?

::: Hang on; I gotta google this. :::

Podophobia.  That’s what I got.  A fear of feet.  No foot fetish at all, nosiree, not me.  I once had a friend with a shop vac fetish.  Not sure why that’s relevant—but it is true.  And I’ve been looking for a chance to mention it in the blog.  Cause it doesn’t happen everyday.

Anyway, when Sheila McDonald told me she’d like to hang off monkey bars and do a little barefoot dance on my back for my therapeutic pleasure, I was a bit, shall we say… skeptical.

For one thing, having somebody stand on your back requires a bit of trust.  I’ve never personally had my spine broken but I imagine it’s not an altogether pleasant experience.  And for another, I have that thing about feet.  Or rather, a lack of a thing about feet (see above).

But I’m always up for an adventure.  Especially if there’s something to fret about in advance.  And Sheila struck me as being the kind of person to have particularly clean feet.  So I decided to take a leap of faith.  Get it?  Leap of faith?  :::heavy, embarrassed sigh:::

(I also did a bit of googling to make sure Sheila wasn’t making the whole thing up to test out some kind of “experimental massage theory” she’d developed while watching Olympic gymnastics at home.)

I make the gymnastics reference because Ashiatsu Oriental Massage Therapy, as it’s called—no, Sheila didn’t make it up—involves the masseuse hanging off parallel bars and applying pressure to the various muscles of your back.

“Mostly, I’ll only be using one foot at a time, applying at least some of my weight to the bars.  Once or twice, I might use both feet at the same time on your upper and lower back,” Sheila told me in a dimly lit room with the sounds of waves lapping softly on the seashore in the background.  It’s always lapping waves, isn’t it?  Or that instrument that makes the low-pitched waaah-waaah-waaah that I can never remember the name of.

Sheila’s workroom at the Hair Company is small, but also comfortable.  The ceiling is draped with fabric, giving the space a less harsh, cornered vibe.  And she had to get a contractor to come in to install the bars—this is clearly not a portable experience.  I asked her if anybody else in the area was doing that sort of work.  Skaneateles was the closest practitioner that she knew of.

The massage itself was pretty fantastic.  And surprising.  She warned me in advance that it wouldn’t feel the same as a normal hand massage.  One of her clients compared the two:  A normal massage feels like being hammered with a meat tenderizer.  You get worked over but spots get missed.  Whereas with Ashiatsu, it’s like you’ve been rolled out with a rolling pin.  Flattened.  In a really really really quite incredibly pleasurable way.

I’d be lying of the first few moments didn’t make me a bit uncomfortable.  The weight of an entire person standing on your back can be a bit unnerving.  But of course, it wasn’t her entire weight.  Probably the most squirm-inducing moment came when Sheila placed her foot on my neck and began to manipulate the muscles there.  Weird.  Intimidating.  But once the novelty of the sensation subsided, it was extremely relaxing.  I was trying to pay close attention—knowing I’d have to blog about it later—but I soon felt myself drift into a semi-conscious state.

A foot doesn’t feel like a hand—and although less maneuverable, the movements were surprisingly controlled.  Often times, the pressure felt like it was about to become just a BIT too much.  And at those moment, I was worried that the inevitable “Arrrghh!” would illicit a pretty slow response—weighted feet being harder to move quickly than a hand.  But the yelp of pain never came; Sheila seemed to know exactly how much pressure was enough.

Another thing of note—and Sheila told me about this in advance—was how well the shape of the foot was able to work certain parts of the body.  It just fits.  In some cases, better than a hand.

Between back-dancings, I asked Sheila to answer a few qestions about the therapy…

Do people ever seem grossed out by the foot-factor? Bare feet aren’t everybody’s cup of tea…

I’m sure there are some people who would be grossed out by the foot-factor.  In this case, I imagine their aversion to feet would keep them from showing up for Ashiatsu in the first place.  If however, the notion of feet is a tea they are willing to at least sip, they would have to decide if the value in the delivery is worth the awkwardness they may experience.  I had one client, on her first visit, describe the feeling she had when my foot was near her neck and coming down her arm.  She said as she thought of the fact that it was my foot, it seemed strange for a moment.  She went on to describe being quickly intoxicated by the feeling, and moving immediately back to the feeling of pleasure.

I know you experienced barefoot massage for the first time in India. What was that like?
Oh my goodness, everything about India was mesmerizing and unique.  This type of massage in India is called Chavutti Thirummal (which translates as foot massage).  We were staying at an Ayurvedic center in Kerala.  I remember lying on a plastic sheet on the floor with a disposable thong on and having a young Indian woman coat every centimeter of my body with herb-infused oil.  Most of what I remember is feeling an amazing sensation as she glided along every fiber of my body while holding onto a rope attached to the ceiling.  I just remember a feeling of pure bliss and wellbeing.  Shortly after this trip there was an article in a massage magazine I subscribed to about Ashiatsu Oriental Bar Therapy.  I was hooked.  At that time, I began watching videos and experimenting with my partner in a relatively hap-hazard sort of way. 

How did you train for a form of massage that nobody around here practices?
Although I continued to "play", at that time in my (official) career I was still primarily doing basic Swedish massage and had begun incorporating more of the subtle work of Craniosacral Therapy, Chakra Balancing, and Reiki.  I was working at an Integrative Medicine/Wellness Center in Scranton, PA and began taking on more responsibilities with some of our community outreach programs, as well as teaching yoga and meditation.  Bodywork became a smaller area of focus for a few years.  Recently, I opened my own practice again.  Focusing primarily on Massage Therapy, and realizing that most people are looking for deep tissue, I began to revisit my love of Ashiatsu.  It became a sort of obsession — constantly watching training videos and practicing on my friends and family.  For me, transitioning into using my feet as a method of delivery was natural.  My education, experience, passion, and gifts as a therapist translated smoothly into being competent as an Ashiatsu Practitioner.  I have a good understanding of the body and a strong sense of what feels good and what doesn’t.  As well as what’s safe and what is not. 

What works better with Ashiatsu than other forms?
With Ashiatsu, the way the foot is used — the contour of the foot, the amount of padding, the larger size, and the consistent deep pressure that is afforded by the sheer dynamics of gravity — allows for a deeply integrated form of massage.  This deep, compression effleurage uses the power of the legs and the weight of the body to impact the deeper muscle layers as well as more accessible surface tissues.  The consistent pressure and amount of tissue being manipulated at once has a greater positive effect on blood-flow and circulation. Incorporating long, gliding strokes and relaxing sequences results is deep tissue bodywork, without the pain often associated with traditional deep tissue massage.    The slow, deliberate, and consistent method of delivery is very soothing to the nervous system and has a positive effect on the mental, spiritual, and emotional bodies - not just the physical. 

Well… what works worse?
Using your feet doesn’t allow for some of the more specific work that needs to be done on the neck, tips of the shoulders, head, and chest.  But really, I don’t see this as a problem in my work because I always take time before and after the "ashiatsu" portion of the session to address the client’s needs in these areas.  It is important to me that I begin and end with my hands and really connect to the client to build rapport and trust.  My background and training in hands-on-healing and energy work is a big part of my gift in the healing encounter.  This type of work is an important ingredient for bringing a sense of well-being to the client.

Part of what’s different about Ashiatsu is the experience for the masseuse. Can you talk about that?
For me as the masseuse, it is very grounding.  I take my work quite seriously and hold a strong commitment to be present and focused.  With that, it is almost meditative.  From a physical standpoint for me, it is a completely different use of my own body.  I use more of my core strength and larger muscle groups as opposed to my fingers, wrists, and arm strength.  With Ashiatsu, I keep most of my weight in the standing leg (on the table) while I apply pressure by use of my body weight and some muscle contraction in the leg of the foot I am using.  It is almost like a choreographed dance because the sequencing is very important.  It is amazing how the subtleties of how I move on the body have a profound impact on how the massage is experienced by the client.  It is inspiring to be creative and mindfully bring my foot across the contours of the body with the exact right amount of pressure in the perfect spots.  I love moving slowly from the ankle all the way up to the shoulder and down the arm in one smooth, slow, and deliberate motion.  That alone - regardless of how light the pressure could be — is extremely therapeutic to the client.  The body can’t help but to melt and feel a renewed sense of contentment.  Knowing that I am creating and allowing for a truly healing encounter is outrageously rewarding.  When I work I rarely get tired.  Alternatively, I feel good and energized. 

So, uh, you’re walking on people’s backs. Is there a danger??
In any type of bodywork I suppose there could always be some potential for danger.  In the eleven years I have been a practitioner, I have had the opportunity to study with some amazing teachers and be mentored by many great therapists. Because I take my work very seriously, I have worked hard to understand the contraindications for all the modalities I deliver.    Particularly for Ashiatsu, the therapist really needs to remain focused and alert.  When I first began I remember thinking …OMG…if my foot ever slipped and I slid right into THAT vertebrae…. or OMG, what if I slipped and fell on his back, or OMG, what if I accidentally stepped on his arm….  Those were all brief fleeting thoughts, and to tell you the truth, I feel very very comfortable and competent up on my table.  There is this almost palpable sense of "rightness" in what I am doing.  I feel a great sense of privilege in doing what I do.

Ugh. Cancer sucks.

Ya know what sucks even more than cancer? Finding out that your favorite little electronic device in the WORLD causes cancer.

OK, maybe cancer sucks more.

A new study says that kids who use cell phones are 5 times more likely to get brain tumors. Not cool.

It’s mainly about kids under 20 and this aparantly happens because their heads are smaller and the electromagnetic waves penetrate further inside their heads.

Some scientists say the new study is bunk, because it takes YEARS for cancer to form, so how could we REALLY know. But the idea is out there.

And now I’m afraid of my phone. Use hands free. Text instead of calling. And hide the phone from your kids.