Philosophy

No two sessions are the same because each person is different and each day is different.

Kierkegaard said that the aim of life is to reveal itself as the unity of the universal and the particular. I take these words to heart and they center my practice. In every meeting with a client, I am called to connect a general theoretical knowledge of human beings with a particular client’s practical challenge, and this makes my life’s work joyful and creative.

Acute visual observation, close listening and rigorous analysis are woven into every part of my work. Also, I teach science to clients and students. When I teach anatomy and the science of movement, I don’t use jargon, and I don’t teach abstractly. I speak simply and pragmatically, and only teach things that relate to experience and can be used right away.

I want my clients who are in pain to leave feeling comfortable. But here’s what’s most important: I want you to be able to do the things you want to do, stay healthy and live vibrantly. My job is to help you evolve your conscious connection to yourself to expand your sense of possibility. My most satisfied clients come in with a problem and leave with more self-awareness and strategies for staying healthy.

I’ve taught at New York University’s Atlantic Theater Company, the Swedish Institute for Massage Therapy, Wesleyan University, Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health and many other places. I currently teach ongoing private classes and supervision sessions in my office and elsewhere, for bodyworkers, yoga teachers, and all other people.

A shoulder won’t heal if it’s resting on an unhealthy ribcage or spine; it takes extra effort to stay healthy in a toxic work situation; if I don’t sleep, drink water and eat right, I won’t be healthy no matter how many practitioners I see or drugs I take; I need my community and society to heal if I want to be healthy. It’s a big job, but small steps are very helpful. The parts and the whole are always connected.

My spiritual development began in my family and was fostered by Catholic priests in Storrs, Connecticut, where I grew up. Though I’m no longer Christian, I’m grateful for the spiritual foundation I got from these brave spirits, drunk on Vatican II, who had us wash each other’s feet on Holy Thursday; imagine who Christ would be if she returned today; and speak our minds and hearts, Quaker-style, from the congregation. Ah, the sixties!