This post is the first in a series about working with psoas-related trauma in the water and also on land. Reading Parts 1, 2 and 3 in order is important. You'll find a link to Part 2 at the end of this one.
Part 1: Personal experience of psoas trauma
Part 2: How aquatic bodywork can help with psoas trauma recovery
Part 3: Some ways of working with the psoas on land and in water
Deepening our core awareness we enter the influence of water. It is imprinted in all form and it is by exploring ourselves as fluid beings that we enter into a deeper level of movement awareness and life. Liz Koch, Core Awareness: Enhancing Yoga, Pilates, Exercise and Dance, 2003, p. 74.
PART 1: Personal experience of psoas trauma
Losing my ground
Core awareness is not only influenced by water, it is also a sense of self connected to the earth, writes psoas expert Liz Koch. In late July, I fell down twice. I lost my ground in a manner that I can no longer afford to explain away. I could say it was because a few weeks back I lifted a very large log for stacking and strained my right-side quadratus lumborum muscle which in turn put stress on my right psoas muscle, strongly torqued my pelvis, and trapped a nerve. But it reminded me of something that I've been slowly inching towards for at least a decade now. In this series of posts, I will share parts of that exploration.
The 'core' of the body spans from the solar plexus to the upper thigh bone. Core muscles run along the spinal vertebrae and traverse this 'belly brain'. These are the psoas [pronounced so-as] muscles and they are key to the body's stuctural integrity and movement, as well as protecting its inner strength and energy. It is a place of power and wisdom according to many Eastern body systems, where it is referred to as hara, dantien, solar plexus chakra, and so on.
The psoas also functions like an hydraulic pump, enhancing circulation throughout the body. As an internal shelf, it lends important diagonal muscular support to abdominal organs and nerve ganglia. The kidneys lie on top of the psoas and the reproductive nerves are embedded within it. I've demanded a lot of the psoas muscle complex in my life habits and perhaps also because I have an exceptionally long back relative to my limbs. My lifestyle combines the sedentary (long hours of writing) with the very active (including yoga and dance), making me further vulnerable to psoas misuse.
This hidden muscle group appears to play a major role in trauma and trauma recovery. Its significance in good times and bad is often overlooked, perhaps because it lies so deep within us. Serving as a bridge, it connects the physical to the emotional and the spiritual to the ordinary according to those who, like Liz Koch, take an holistic view of the human being. Working with it can bring a deluge of unresolved fear to the forefront of your consciousness. In the long run it could provide an opening to instinctive wisdom too. In my personal and professional experience, both are true.
Inspired by Liz Koch (though I have yet to study with her directly), I've been sharing my understanding of this keystone muscle in my movement classes for some years now. Yet, its personal impact once again unnerves me. Not only because my body structure is similar to that of my mother who had a hip replacement five years after experiencing falls like mine. But also because I sense there is more to this recurring discomfort, and that more serious outcomes (see Box) could be preventable. My core is calling me to give it greater attention and take far more care.
Losing my ground
Core awareness is not only influenced by water, it is also a sense of self connected to the earth, writes psoas expert Liz Koch. In late July, I fell down twice. I lost my ground in a manner that I can no longer afford to explain away. I could say it was because a few weeks back I lifted a very large log for stacking and strained my right-side quadratus lumborum muscle which in turn put stress on my right psoas muscle, strongly torqued my pelvis, and trapped a nerve. But it reminded me of something that I've been slowly inching towards for at least a decade now. In this series of posts, I will share parts of that exploration.
The 'core' of the body spans from the solar plexus to the upper thigh bone. Core muscles run along the spinal vertebrae and traverse this 'belly brain'. These are the psoas [pronounced so-as] muscles and they are key to the body's stuctural integrity and movement, as well as protecting its inner strength and energy. It is a place of power and wisdom according to many Eastern body systems, where it is referred to as hara, dantien, solar plexus chakra, and so on.
The psoas also functions like an hydraulic pump, enhancing circulation throughout the body. As an internal shelf, it lends important diagonal muscular support to abdominal organs and nerve ganglia. The kidneys lie on top of the psoas and the reproductive nerves are embedded within it. I've demanded a lot of the psoas muscle complex in my life habits and perhaps also because I have an exceptionally long back relative to my limbs. My lifestyle combines the sedentary (long hours of writing) with the very active (including yoga and dance), making me further vulnerable to psoas misuse.
Illustration: The psoas muscle attaches to the 12th thoracic vertebrae (approximately at the level of your solar plexus) and to each of the lumbar vertebrae. The muscle moves through the pelvis and inserts into the inner thighbone at the lesser trocanter.
This hidden muscle group appears to play a major role in trauma and trauma recovery. Its significance in good times and bad is often overlooked, perhaps because it lies so deep within us. Serving as a bridge, it connects the physical to the emotional and the spiritual to the ordinary according to those who, like Liz Koch, take an holistic view of the human being. Working with it can bring a deluge of unresolved fear to the forefront of your consciousness. In the long run it could provide an opening to instinctive wisdom too. In my personal and professional experience, both are true.
Inspired by Liz Koch (though I have yet to study with her directly), I've been sharing my understanding of this keystone muscle in my movement classes for some years now. Yet, its personal impact once again unnerves me. Not only because my body structure is similar to that of my mother who had a hip replacement five years after experiencing falls like mine. But also because I sense there is more to this recurring discomfort, and that more serious outcomes (see Box) could be preventable. My core is calling me to give it greater attention and take far more care.
On the physical level, the psoas is partially responsible for the following physical ailments: * Chronic low back pain
* Sciatica
* Intense menstrual cramping
* Hip socket tension
* Groin pain
* Chronic quadriceps strain
* Knee, neck and ankle tension
* Bladder and digestive disturbances
* Structural imbalance
* Poor flexibility in the core
* Poor core strength
* Lumbar joint immobility
* Organ dysfunction
Many believe that psoas problems are under-reported and under-diagnosed.
With this resurgence of my own challenges involving the psoas complex, I've been wondering again about the role aquatic bodywork - the practice I am trained in and write about on this blog - can play in developing our awareness of the psoas and in working to heal its role in chronic discomfort and also in less accessible trauma. After exploring some ideas about psoas involvement in Part 2, I will look at combining aquatic- and land-based approaches for psoas-linked trauma healing in Part 3.
Hidden beneath the surface
A very skillful massage therapist whom I trust, got me out of my most recent scrape. He used the gentlest of palpation and PNF (Proprioceptive Neuromuscular Facilitation; see cautions for both techniques in Parts 2 and 3) to gradually undo the complexity of constrictions that had coiled up in the right side of my pelvis. Staying focused on the sensations there, I witnessed my own body reacting convulsively, as if in great pain, to a touch that was I not actually experiencing as being that painful. How curious to bear witness to that.
While my body squirmed and shuddered - as it often does in the water but there on the table the movement was somewhat hindered by surface traction and gravity - some deeply inhibited part of my being registered the mix of anger and grief that is so familiar but has no clear cognitive content - layer upon layer of body-mind coping strategies have perhaps effectively smothered all that. This part is given little attention and ascribed even less significance in modern medicine.
After my massage, as I bent to put on my shoes, now without any fear of losing control of my movements, I was filled with gratitude for the reprieve. I was also aware that I had yet again sidestepped the source of the anguish that has my whole being spiralling down a deep and painfully meaningful plug hole. Does this chronic issue come from physical imbalance, or from emotional turmoil, or spiritual angst, or can these even be separated? If this were not a recurring (or chronic) situation, I might leave it at physical injury and simply rest up.
According to Liz Koch, for the pelvis to have integrity, the iliopsoas muscle must not obstruct proper positioning of the pelvis. A spasmodic iliopsoas will torque, pulling on the pelvic girdle. A balanced pelvis exists only when the legs are articulated freely from the core. When muscles become habitually involved in supporting alignment, the body loses its innate balance and flexibility. However, in addition to this physical description, Liz Koch identifies an emotional contribution (quote):
While my body squirmed and shuddered - as it often does in the water but there on the table the movement was somewhat hindered by surface traction and gravity - some deeply inhibited part of my being registered the mix of anger and grief that is so familiar but has no clear cognitive content - layer upon layer of body-mind coping strategies have perhaps effectively smothered all that. This part is given little attention and ascribed even less significance in modern medicine.
After my massage, as I bent to put on my shoes, now without any fear of losing control of my movements, I was filled with gratitude for the reprieve. I was also aware that I had yet again sidestepped the source of the anguish that has my whole being spiralling down a deep and painfully meaningful plug hole. Does this chronic issue come from physical imbalance, or from emotional turmoil, or spiritual angst, or can these even be separated? If this were not a recurring (or chronic) situation, I might leave it at physical injury and simply rest up.
According to Liz Koch, for the pelvis to have integrity, the iliopsoas muscle must not obstruct proper positioning of the pelvis. A spasmodic iliopsoas will torque, pulling on the pelvic girdle. A balanced pelvis exists only when the legs are articulated freely from the core. When muscles become habitually involved in supporting alignment, the body loses its innate balance and flexibility. However, in addition to this physical description, Liz Koch identifies an emotional contribution (quote):
- chronic fear can inappropriately engage the iliopsoas and compromise pelvic stability
- a whirlwind of emotional energy damned up within the body will cause a muscular logjam
- stored and undigested feelings of fear and anger fragment somatic wholeness.
When you turn towards tension rather than away from it (via stretching alone), says Liz, bound-up energy releases and begins to move unimpeded. That is, until you come up against an habitual internal resistance that some time long ago perhaps even saved your life. There is often an emotional component, though approaches to that vary (see Somatic Experiencing®, Part 3). For me these welcome releases are repetitive, and have been occurring in varied ways over the last decade since I began training in aquatic bodywork. I'm beginning to accept that, though I am lucky that they happen, they may not be enough in themselves.
When body memories surface
The body has an innate intelligence that allows it, unless provoked beyond its limits, to approach such challenges with an uncanny pacing that enables integration (see later in this Part for my account of personal birth trauma work in the water). Outside the context of intentional psychosomatic therapy (such as Somatic Experiencing®), unanticipated acute physical injuries or frightening emotional experiences on top of prior reactions to traumatic events can also bring such long-buried issues bursting to the surface again.
Certain touches or movements offered in a place of safety and by a person who is trusted might do the same - what is crucial for resolution is that the person triggering them knows what to do next. This issue came up recently on a professional network for aquatic therapists that I belong to: an experienced practitioner, working mainly in spa settings, had a first encounter with a client who exhibited dramatic releases. This practitioner is fortunate to be part of a group where aquatic trauma healing is being discussed and where guidance and mentorship are available. Here is her account:
Such traumas may be preverbal (before and during birth or in babyhood) or so unacceptable to our psyches and situations that we block them from conscious memory. There is increasing evidence (Robert Scaer, 'Observations on Traumatic Stress Utilizing the Model of the Whiplash Syndrome') that the body system retains all such traumatic memories unless they can be resolved and reintegrated, and that if this doesn't happen in some cases they continue to play out in ways that compromise our lives to a greater or lesser extent.
As mentioned, when they come up, buried trauma reactions often catch us (and whoever is with us) by surprise. The water seems to be particularly effective in surfacing these reactions. Increasing awareness of this among practitioners of aquatic bodywork, and opportunities to learn the necessary skills to handle it, would certainly be beneficial. When practitioners do not have these skills, there is a risk of reinforcing or exacerbating someone's trauma. Knowing when to refer to another person more experienced in this work is important, especially where the pattern is repeating itself over time in someone.
Disclaimer: The ideas I am sharing here, including those gleaned from the work of others, are being presented in a context of inquiry based on my personal experience as someone troubled by psoas issues and likely underlying trauma, and also my professional observations as a massage and movement therapist with a special interest in aquatic bodywork. They are intended to stimulate exchange rather than to suggest definitive methods for working with someone who has psoas-related trauma. Please be very careful with such work.
When body memories surface
The body has an innate intelligence that allows it, unless provoked beyond its limits, to approach such challenges with an uncanny pacing that enables integration (see later in this Part for my account of personal birth trauma work in the water). Outside the context of intentional psychosomatic therapy (such as Somatic Experiencing®), unanticipated acute physical injuries or frightening emotional experiences on top of prior reactions to traumatic events can also bring such long-buried issues bursting to the surface again.
Certain touches or movements offered in a place of safety and by a person who is trusted might do the same - what is crucial for resolution is that the person triggering them knows what to do next. This issue came up recently on a professional network for aquatic therapists that I belong to: an experienced practitioner, working mainly in spa settings, had a first encounter with a client who exhibited dramatic releases. This practitioner is fortunate to be part of a group where aquatic trauma healing is being discussed and where guidance and mentorship are available. Here is her account:
The sources of trauma affecting normal body function may be numerous and their nature unique to each person. I believe that the responsibility persistently to track them down, shake them off, and enable them to float away or melt can only lie with the individual. With regard to psoas involvement, Liz Koch says: 'No-one else can ultimately release your psoas for you. At best, they can only guide you in sensing your own core'. However, that doesn't mean that it is not valuable, and often essential, to have the help of a faciliator/ mentor - ideally someone who knows what this challenge is like from personal experience.I spoke with a client per email and phone briefly, but had no idea as to the depth of her trauma, as a result I was a little taken back by the explosion of drama that occurred during a recent Watsu. In my 15 years of doing Watsu, I had never heard anyone scream, cry, sob, contort her body, and then to say nothing after the sesson about her behavior. I did not ask what that was about because I am not a behaviorist, and did not want to open a mental/emotional conversation. My sense is that she felt better afterwards and I felt grateful that I could manage to keep her head above the water. SK
Such traumas may be preverbal (before and during birth or in babyhood) or so unacceptable to our psyches and situations that we block them from conscious memory. There is increasing evidence (Robert Scaer, 'Observations on Traumatic Stress Utilizing the Model of the Whiplash Syndrome') that the body system retains all such traumatic memories unless they can be resolved and reintegrated, and that if this doesn't happen in some cases they continue to play out in ways that compromise our lives to a greater or lesser extent.
As mentioned, when they come up, buried trauma reactions often catch us (and whoever is with us) by surprise. The water seems to be particularly effective in surfacing these reactions. Increasing awareness of this among practitioners of aquatic bodywork, and opportunities to learn the necessary skills to handle it, would certainly be beneficial. When practitioners do not have these skills, there is a risk of reinforcing or exacerbating someone's trauma. Knowing when to refer to another person more experienced in this work is important, especially where the pattern is repeating itself over time in someone.
Disclaimer: The ideas I am sharing here, including those gleaned from the work of others, are being presented in a context of inquiry based on my personal experience as someone troubled by psoas issues and likely underlying trauma, and also my professional observations as a massage and movement therapist with a special interest in aquatic bodywork. They are intended to stimulate exchange rather than to suggest definitive methods for working with someone who has psoas-related trauma. Please be very careful with such work.
Link to Part 2: How aquatic bodywork can help with psoas trauma recovery
For more on Robert Scaer's approach
and some possible applications in aquatic bodywork.
