Monday, May 14, 2018


My client is a young woman, who has lots of stress partially from high expectations of herself. In this session, through my hands, I have an image of her throwing herself around a small padded room, as if possessed. Slamming her body into walls, landing at odd angles. She doesn’t want to be flung around the room, or at least most of her doesn’t, yet she can’t help herself. I think about how much we all do it. We set unreachable goals then wear out our bodies and spirits trying to achieve them.

My first thought is to suggest let it go, but a recent interaction with let it go, prevents me from recommending that little gem. I’d hurt my shoulder and had been instructed not to raise my arm over shoulder height. And there was this perfect pear on the pear tree just slightly too high. If I raised my arm a bit higher I could reach it. I imaged the pear’s sweetness, juice dripping down my chin. But I could reinjure the muscles, setting back my recovery. Let it go, I told myself, let it go. Turns out let it go isn’t a comfort—it’s . . . it’s . . . aggravating.

I apologize, sincerely, if I ever said let it go to you.

Meanwhile, my client is still on the table. In my mind’s eye flinging herself every which way, exhausting and hurting herself. I ask her inner wisdom for advice and take a deep breath.

An image comes to mind; She’s waltzing gracefully around a large ballroom. The melody is rich and eloquent. I watch for a moment as she glides along, the graceful pace enabling all her muscles working in perfect affinity. Every cell is breathing and there is spaciousness and flow throughout her entire being. A new phrase comes to mind; slow it down.

The session ends, and she gets off the table, her face brighter, her body relaxed. I share the waltzing image with her and she loves it. In subsequent sessions, she mentions how the waltzing image, the idea of slow it down, helps her to set priorities and attainable goals, keeping herself happily prolific.

We all have moments where it’s too much—the responsibilities and expectations of our lives push us beyond our most effective and joyful productivity. We get crabby, cycling into increasingly bad decisions causing even more frustration and blunders. Can we steal a moment to go waltzing around the room, a moment to slow it down?

Thank you

Monday, April 23, 2018


All Business radio contacted moi (me) to talk about Craniosacral Therapy!

Thank you

Friday, February 23, 2018

PALIMPSEST! (Manuscript)

I’m proud to say that my manuscript, What If You Could? Diving Deep Into The Healing Waters Of Craniosacral Therapy, is done!!!

 Like most worthwhile things in life, I found writing a book was much harder/more wonderful than I anticipated.
It drove me crazy sometimes; searching for the right words only to realize that it wasn't the words that were wrong, it was the concept. Hunched over the computer, ensuring everything was eloquent, or at least clear. Sometimes it felt like a school kid’s nightmare—stuck in the windowless room on detention when all my friends are outside playing. One day I lost track of time, rushed out the door, sat down at an important meeting and realized I was wearing two different types of shoes.

Then there’s the rewrites. Ernest Hemingway said you should write drunk and edit sober, but I like writing far more than editing—can I write sober and edit drunk?

 On the other hand, I feel blessed to believe in something so deeply. While the writing process has had its high and low-tides, my confidence in Craniosacral Therapy and the importance of book never wavered. I’m grateful to have the time and resources to spend writing a book. I’ve grown in so many ways, including becoming a more consistent and clearer thinker. I’ve found oceans of support from all sorts of people: my husband and kids (including both JTs), friends, clients, colleagues, and people far-flung that I’m unlikely to ever meet.

Writing this book, all that has and will come from the process, is an opportunity to practice one of my Eternal, Infernal goals: to face life’s challenges with humor and grace. A chance to practice accepting my shortcomings with self-compassion and to move forward through them. It’s shown me that perhaps I have more grit, more backbone, than I realized. I am trying to make the world a better place. It feels courageous.

 Via client sessions, anecdotes, essays, and a few fables What If You Could explores Cranial, and reveals its amazing healing power. Yesterday, for the first time, I sent out the book proposal to a literary agent. Exciting things ahead!

 Thank you

Wednesday, February 14, 2018


A client sent me a thank you card after a particularly helpful session. The card had this amazing feather on the cover so I asked her if I could post it on my blog. Her consent email included this story...

I was in the woods with who I thought was the mama owl. I spent a lot of time with her that spring and summer as I had just had to close my LMP practice due to hand surgery. My daughter was off to college and I was not sure what direction I wanted to go. I used to talk to this owl and ask her how on earth she could keep having two or three owlets and care for them so deeply and intensly and then they flew off into their own life after a few months?!!

One day she was on a branch not 10 feet away and above me. She was preening her chest feathers and this fell out! I held out my hand and it floated down into my palm! She had two babies that year and I would like to think that is why she had two hearts on that feather!!
Marilyn Aron 

I am so  grateful to my clients for their trust, insight and wisdom.
Thank you

Sunday, December 4, 2016


If you live in Seattle the ability to appreciate the rain sure is convenient…

The session started fine. My client came in, we talked, she lay down on the table and waited for me to place my hands on her. I took a few deep breaths and waited for the usual sense of quiet focus to come. Instead I felt twitchy and ungrounded. Searching for something to help me center, I noticed it was still pouring outside. The roof/ceiling in my office is flat and not-insulated. We could hear the rain perfectly. I closed my eyes and immersed myself in the sound of the rain. I felt the water gently falling and flowing on me, then running down through me like a river, running deep into the earth to ground me. Grateful to be able to center, grateful for the rain and my steady breath, I rested my hands on her shins and began.
Thank you

Thursday, October 13, 2016



Monty usually comes in about once a month, though lately its been more frequently. He has been going through some really rough times, his parents are both sick, his dad terminal. About a month ago Monty was having back pain but we have worked on that and it is much better now. He came in today and talked about how his dad’s health is declining, not much time left. It is clear Monty wants to cry but is also fighting it. I encourage him to let it out (meaning cry) but I know from the past that he won’t.

As he lays on the table and I am holding his diaphragm (in the middle of his chest) I feel him releasing tension, grief and sorrow. Then it strikes me, he is letting it out. He is coming here to let it out, that’s exactly what he is doing on the table. Since he can’t let go with tears or words the release he gets on treatment table time is that much more important. It is his outlet. Sometimes sessions are about getting in touch with the grief, and once a person is able to do that they can go home and have a good cry, letting the grief out on their own. Some people aren’t able to do that.

I suppose the sessions act as a faucet: opening to let the grief, anxiety, anger and sorrow flow out. Monty won’t cry in front of his mom because he feels she is maxed out on her own health issues and her concern for her husband, Monty's father. So he comes here to drain off some of the grief. As the load lightens he gains clarity and strength.

Saturday, September 24, 2016


He (or she) flew from tree to tree following the pups and I on our early morning walk today. I wonder how often I would see him if I looked up more?