Last week, Sam and I went to MacDill Air Force Base for an event called Caring Hands Support, which was an exhibition serving the soldiers and family members of Special Forces Command. At the event, about 25 massage therapists from a variety of modalities were gathered there to provide free services. Of course, Sam and I offered reflexology and foot reading. Throughout the course of the day, many soldiers and their family members passed through the large hangar, and our table
I drove up to Jacksonville on Saturday night after certification class. I booked a hotel downtown overlooking the St. John's River, and the view was lovely. In the morning, I did my full AYP routine and then ate breakfast at the overpriced buffet in the hotel, but I didn't mind the cost. Then I drove to the New World Disc Golf course, which was hosting the final professional tournament of the year. The best players in the world had made it to the final round: Paul McBeth, Ric
Last night I saw Christopher Nolan's new film Dunkirk. The movie is a very sober portrayal of the hundreds of thousands of British men who were stranded on a beach in France during World War II as the German enemies were rapidly closing in. Fortunately, many of them were rescued and evacuated, even by British civilians who ventured across the English Channel with small sailboats to fetch them. It's often been said: War is hell. Even if you've never been engaged in military co
A couple days ago, I was helping my mom clean out the attic. The space was stuffed with memorabilia. In one of the boxes, I came upon a baseball jersey with my name on the back. The shirt was from my Bayshore Little League days over on Davis Island, where I pitched and played shortstop. I pulled out the jersey from the tightly sealed plastic bag and put on the garment. Obviously, it barely fit, but I nevertheless managed to squeeze into it. A little swell of sentimentality ca
Paul Simon sang: "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls."
If Sam Belyea was a folk singer, I would venture to say that he would pick up a guitar and sing: "The inner condition of the body and mind is revealed on the feet, hands, ears, and face." Just give him a melody, and voilà—the anthem of modern-day reflexology would be born.
But, in lieu of a folk song, at least we have the wonderful vertical and horizontal zones to guide us in deciphering the rev
I am driven by vision. I can see images emerging on the horizon of possibility. Much like a painter looks at a blank canvas and fills the emptiness with brushstrokes that come alive with color and narrative shapes, I look into the future and move towards creating a living story that would make a wonderful novel—one that I would cherish reading and getting lost in. My month of AYP certification in France was filled with vision. There, we had a seedling group of people, quite d
In my last article, I wrote that giving is receiving. We all know the golden rule. When we contribute something of value, we receive something in return. Even if a gift or service is offered with no expectation of return, there can be a wonderful feeling of satisfaction, regardless of whether or not there is money exchanged, compliments bestowed, or recognition adorned. Therefore, I would venture to say that even so-called charity involves a sort of healthy selfishness on the
One of my early childhood memories is going to the doctor. I never really dreaded the visit, as some children did. I felt comfortable, actually, because I knew the doctor was going to be acting in my best interest—to remedy my sickness. If I was feverish, or had a sore throat, the doctor would place her hand on my head and neck, palpating for signs and symptoms. Then she would place a stethoscope on my chest, listening to my heartbeat and other sounds of respiration. I can vi