How I Found My Calling
During the pandemic, I had multiple issues with pinched nerves and my spine. I nearly lost both my dogs in 3 months, had two bouts with long covid, half of my family started to die, and made a career transition. My body was wrecked. I spent my savings of $250,000 to get where I am today, specializing in prenatal and postpartum care with the ambition of adding newborn CST. Sleep was hard for me throughout this time and I began to have vivid dreams that led me to a calling. A goddess visited me and told me to look at my last name and then a mother appeared with a belly full of wheat. I googled my surname, Cereste. It translates to the goddess of fertility and agriculture. I also looked up my symptoms- neck pain, chest and shoulder pain, sacral sensitivity, and pain in the ribs. I figured it would say the usual, Alzheimer’s, MS, you know google turns a headache into a stroke. The search result appears: YOU’RE PREGNANT. What?! Outside of Arnold Schwarzenegger in Twins, I have not seen another man conceive.
This time in my life marked the beginning of my movement toward prenatal therapy. I found a craniosacral training cohort in Denver. Prenatal education was a large part of our curriculum and the therapy was very helpful in providing relief from many of my pandemic-related symptoms. The dynamic in that school brought out a childlike part of me that wanted to have fun and play. I began to wonder about the healing arts and what it meant to find relief or get better.
Can massage or craniosacral therapy involve big laughs, instead of serious somatic-emotional release, that help us get back to 0?
My classmates used to look to me for a break from their heaviness. My friend Elspeth once said that if she was ever stuck in her emotions, she could always count on me to lift her out. We decided to work together on the day that we learned sacral holds. I lay on the table in the corner of the room. I liked that spot because the school had windows looking out over trees. That classroom was so soothing. During this technique, the practitioner senses movement in bones, tissue, fluid, and energy. Elspeth drew attention to how much heat I was producing and how large my tailbone felt. My sacrum was radiating broad energy. Once she cued me to notice these things I sensed energy racing down my spine and out of the tailbone. I felt like a rocket ship going to space for 30 minutes while my body let go of all that heat. We both burst out laughing. I laughed so hard my face hurt and our teacher Margaret encouraged it thankfully.
Those seminars redefined the way I thought about help or support. Pain or heightened sensitivity can be consuming. It can be easy to get caught up in what’s bothering you while carrying a baby, dealing with postnatal issues, or simply suffering from a hard life as your body holds the stress. I know you’re looking for me to help you through something, but maybe this process can be professional without being serious. Can laughter infuse the rapport in a way that is more relieving than a deep tissue technique? Could massage be a chance to play instead of working out an issue? Perhaps there’s room for both simultaneously. Maybe I find a rhythm in my work that feels like an artful collaboration. Let’s look at touch like a dance instead of an expertise. The bullshit will unravel when we laugh and take deep breaths. We can spend time together as friends or equals and have the appointment be restorative for both of us while I still offer my skills.
A Psoas release followed by a few chuckles may help more than moving on to the next body part.
I too might be treading water today and would love a buoy in the form of a joke. I’m tired of performing and having to show up centered. On my absolute worst days at my worst moments, I would pay a lot of god damn money for a large belly laugh. The kind that only Dave Chapelle or Eddie Murphy could evoke from my gut. Maybe a big laugh feels like a massage for your child. Do you think a developing baby feels humor? I do.
My CST teacher Margaret mentioned that suffering and pain make us forget about joy and laughter, but they are necessary for well-being. I think when Elspeth and I started to play, it made the session more effective. It also became less about the depth of intensity and more about “I’ve got rocket fuel.” I learned to look at myself differently. These things going on in my body don’t all have to be uncomfortable sensations that I hold. Some of them complete and exit for good while others shift. I remember relaying to Elspeth the image of blasting off into outer space and when the energy ran out, I saw myself falling back into the ocean. It seemed like a NASA shuttle leaving Earth with vigor for exploration and sizzling through the atmosphere on its return descent.
Once restrictions in the body dissipate and energy moves, fluid begins to re-enter the tissues. As a craniosacral therapist, I sense cerebrospinal fluid (salt water) or any other type of fluid that might move through bones and tissue. Funny enough, when my rocket ran out of fuel, I landed in the ocean to cool off. That return to the sea reminds me of gestation. Amniotic fluid surrounds the embryo and fetus. An amniotic sac protects us and provides nutrients and the proper environment for organ growth as well as musculoskeletal development. Fluid is how we start and wants to remain a part of us throughout life. It infiltrates the body coming into the hardened or sensitive areas, and reminds us to soften into ourselves. On our toughest days, when we are resisting or highly uncomfortable, try to find some levity, or come see me. I’d love to make you laugh.
