Every session tells a story. This one is about a client who came in for tension and left a little lighter than she expected — in more ways than one. I'm sharing it (with all identifying details left out) because it shows how slowing down, listening, and working with the whole body rather than just the sore spot can change what a session becomes.
Who, and what she came in with
A client booked a 90-minute Thai yoga massage. Her main complaint was pain in her neck and shoulder on the left side — the kind of nagging, one-sided tension alot of us carry without knowing where it really starts.
Where I started: reading the body before touching it
Before any hands-on work, I assessed her postural alignment, and her hips were not balanced. Her right hip was internally rotated and her left hip was externally rotated — two sides pulling in different directions. To meet each side where it was, I placed body blocks on either side of her hips, positioned according to what each hip actually needed rather than forcing symmetry.
A quick visual scan told me more. Her upper body was very compressed, and that compression was traveling downward — her hips and legs were carrying the consequences of what was happening higher up. That told me the real work wasn't only the neck and shoulder. I needed to address her viscera and her upper structure - chest, neck, and head - and create space through the entire system.
What "diaphragms" actually means in bodywork
This is where I want to teach something, because it shapes everything I did next.
Ask most people how many diaphragms you have and the answer is one — the big respiratory diaphragm under the ribs. That's correct from a respiratory-system point of view.
But in structural and somatic bodywork, we look at the whole-body pressure and fluid system, and from that lens I work with eight transverse diaphragms - horizontal sheets of muscle and fascia that cut across the body's vertical line, almost like floors in a building. From the ground up:
- Plantar fascia — the soles of the feet
- Popliteal fascia — behind the knees
- Pelvic diaphragm — the floor of the pelvis
- Respiratory diaphragm — the "big boss" under the ribs
- Thoracic outlet — the base of the neck and the top of the chest
- Suboccipital triangle — the base of the skull
- Tentorium cerebelli — a sheet of tissue inside the skull, like a tent over the back of the brain
- Diaphragma sellae — a small sheet inside the skull, deep in the center of the head
(Different traditions count these differently. Eight is the framework from osteopathic work, and it is the one I use.)
Why does this matter? Because these "floors" don't act alone. With every breath, when the respiratory diaphragm moves, it sets off a ripple — the other diaphragms expand and contract together to keep internal pressure balanced. So tightness at the base of the skull or the top of the chest can quietly limit how deeply the ribs can breathe, which can show up as tension all the way down in the pelvic floor. It's one connected, eight-story system. When I open one floor, I'm helping the whole building breathe.
How I worked: from the ground up
I start every massage at the soles of the feet, and this session was no different. With the body blocks and gravity doing their slow, patient work on her hips, I began at the soles of her feet and then moved to the back of her knees, opening the two lowest diaphragms (plantar and popliteal) first. From there I worked up into her hips and spine — the hip flexors, the gluteal muscles, and the erector muscles down each side of her body.
Because her upper body was the part most pulled down by gravity and compression,
my goal was clear: create space from the pelvis all the way up to the head.
Turning her over: listening for motility
Once the lower body was prepared, I had her turn face up (supine) and let her settle.
Then I placed one hand at her suboccipital region (the base of the skull) and the other under her sacrum, and I listened for motility — the slow, quiet movement that the body's tissues and organs make on their own, separate from the breath. Motility is very subtle. You cannot force it or hurry it. You can only be still enough to feel it.
Once I could feel that movement, I moved my upper hand down under her lower lumbar spine, keeping my other hand under her sacrum, and I simply listened. I was not counting anything. I was feeling for the quality of the movement — how alive it felt, how smooth, how full. So I waited, and I listened.
What surfaced
After listening, I moved one hand from beneath her sacrum to rest between her pubic symphysis and navel. With my hand on her lower belly, her breathing changed.
She said, "I don't know why, but I'm getting emotional."
I told her that's completely normal — that when we're stressed and don't have a way to release it, we often hold it in the belly. I let her know she didn't have to hold on to whatever was coming up. She could just let it move.
A few minutes later I moved both hands up — one under the spine around T12–L1, the other between the navel and the ribcage at the line of the respiratory diaphragm - moving slowly and watching her closely. Finally I moved up again, one hand under her upper thoracic spine and the other on her upper chest, working to open those last upper diaphragmatic spaces.
That's when the tears came. I didn't fill the moment with words. I just stayed present and let her process. Being there was the work.
Why I work this way
People sometimes ask why I place my hands and hold, rather than press hard. Here's the thinking.
We are wrapped in fascia — it surrounds organs, bone, and ligament, threading through the entire body. Fascia gathers information and relays signals to the nervous system. And one thing about fascia: it doesn't respond well to heavy, forcing pressure. When I rest a hand on the body, my intention isn't to push. It's to listen for the body's own motility and give the tissues and the nervous system room to move and reorganize on their own, while I listen and feel.
Emotion living in the body is part of that picture. Holding space without pressure gives it room to release on its own terms — which is exactly what happened here.
How we finished
To close, I released her neck and shoulders with Thai stretches, gentle compression, and acupressure — the original complaint, now addressed within a body that had already softened and opened.
The outcome
Afterward, she told me her body felt lighter, her breathing was easier, and she felt relaxed. We came in chasing a left-sided neck and shoulder, and we left having tended to the whole system - and something she'd been holding.
That's the part I love about this work: the body knows what it's ready to let go of. My job is to create the space, and then listen.
Every body is different. This is a description of one session and the bodywork approach I use; it isn't medical advice or a substitute for care from a licensed healthcare provider.
