Many years ago I read a bit about reflexology, a healing practice based on the premise that the sole of the foot is connected with the entire body and that by working with the feet (massage or acupuncture), one can have a healing influence throughout the body. Foot massages feel so good that this premise appears plausible. But then the articles would get into presenting diagrams of the connections between foot and body and the whole concept spun into arcane complexity and so I left it behind as something for others.
This last year, my feet would feel tired. If I rubbed my feet in the evening, knots of tension could be felt. Putting pressure on the area felt good. I couldn’t exert enough pressure with my thumb so I used the eraser end of a pencil. It was more precise but often it could still not touch those sore spots in the way they wanted to be. Eventually I started using a large (easy to hold), sharp nail. I packed that nail when I went on vacation.
After a long dayhike, I would go into my tent in the darkening but still warm evening and lie down on top of my sleeping bag, tired and with sore feet. I’d hold the nail in my left hand, prop my right foot up on my left knee, and start a conversation between the bottom of my foot and the lightly moving point of the nail. The nail moved slowly because so many things could happen. Often, as the nail moved, it created sensations that told me to change direction and go explore an area off to the side. Sometimes I moved into a strong knot of tension. The foot would signal that it wanted stronger pressure from the nail point. As the nail point massaged the area, it created awareness of knots of tension in other parts of my body, especially the base of my skull and at some point these knots would release and I would sink back more fully onto my sleeping bag. Often times there would be a strong, spontaneous inhalation of breath that felt really good. Sometimes moving the nail lightly over the skin felt right, other times pushing hard felt appropriate. Sometimes the nail would touch a place that evoked an uncontrollable tickling response so that the within a split second, the foot jerked away. Those were very interesting areas. I’d return the nail to the edge of that area and try to enter it more slowly. Sometimes it took three or four times before this sensitive area allowed the nail to slowly explore it. Lots of interesting sensations rippled through my body as this sensitive area “relaxed.”
At some point I would switch to the other foot. Every time was different. Usually, a deep wave of sleepiness would carry me away and I’d wake up in the morning, my feet feeling alive and ready for another day.
I encourage you to try this “nail work” but that is not the reason I share this story. A thought that deepens every time I do this concerns the profound difference between the complex book diagrams of relationships and this easy conversation between foot and nail. The diagrams are compiled generalizations of practitioners. They form the guide for a person moving the point over someone else’s foot. They are the abstract substitute for a person not receiving the incredibly rich sensations of the nail point gliding over one’s own foot. To be a reflexologist in service to others probably takes years of study. To be this for yourself begins the moment the nail point touches the foot and the learning and the treatment spiral into one, deepening experience. When I enter into direct interaction with the world, I connect with a vastness, a guiding richness of life that is missing from abstractions and plans.
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