what kind of doctor are you
in which I get my spine adjusted and you get your final reminder about THIS SATURDAY's annual Not My Birthday show @Rockwood (7PM!)
Hey Hartlist,
I just got back from the chiropractor, and boy are my arms… fine. Everything’s fine. Ahhh.
JUST THE FACTS
One last reminder… 7PM sharp this Saturday night. Doors at 6.
FROM THE CHRYSALIS
Yesterday, I turned another year older, thank you to everyone who sent nice messages! It was a great day that involved a hair appointment, a fancy lunch, a 3-hour rocking band rehearsal for our -ahem -only remaining show in NY this summer, some cute cards and gifts plus a post-rehearsal sandwich (thanks guys).
Turns out the only thing that could have made the day better was having my neck and back emphatically twisted, elongated, and crunched until it returned to being more like a human spine and less, as the doc said, like “cement”. And that happened today, so it still counts as a birthday present. Oh my god. I love the chiropractor.1 Why did it take me so long to return? I last saw this guy in 2016, when for several months I couldn’t bend forward and had to do a weird curtsey at all curtain calls. This time it was much less dramatic but still involved a couple of weeks of late nights and handfuls of advil. Anyway, there’s nothing more boring than talking about your back pain, but, Back People out there, you feel me. The point is, crunch crunch, much better now.
At one point he left me for ten minutes on this sort of genius traction machine that gently pulls your hips away from your head by your feet until they kind of… reset?and then gently delivers them back again. (“It was made by a father and son team in Pennsyvlania, so it’s local!”) If anyone wants to get me a birthday present…
I was lying there thinking things I often do in these sort of situations like this man is doing god’s work and what must it be like to KNOW what your particular vocation is and just do that and it’s so great to do something so useful all the time and people must be so, so grateful because as Silvio once said on The Sopranos, “When it comes to backs, nobody really knows anything” and that room was sure full of patients…
This newsletter does not end with me deciding to go to medical school. Sorry. (Or, you’re welcome?) But it does end with a thought I’d never had as part of this spiral train of thought. I was coasting gently into the familiar 11 o’clock number known as What am I even doing and/or What is the point of {life, art, whatever} when I heard a little voice pipe up from within:
Well, what kind of doctor are you?
As in, how would you like your work, whatever it is, to help people?
How are you a healer, a helper, an adjuster?
What happens if you ask that question, and/or look at {fill in the blank practice/job/activity} in that way?
I didn’t get much further because that’s when massage guy came in and said something like “Oh, THIS is where the injury is?” (Ouch/thank you/Now I need ice). But it seemed like a good question. If nothing else, it might get my attention off myself when I work, which is always good. And also it offers a shall we say chiropractic adjustment on the idea of promotion.
I’ve talked about this before, how many of us hate promoting our work because it feels embarrassing, or invasive, or like asking a favor. But it isn’t (only) about asking for something. This should be obvious, but it isn’t always (to me): it’s about giving something. I mean, I didn’t go to Dr. Miracle because I wanted to “support” him or be nice. I went because what he does re-aligns me, opens me up, and makes me feel better in my own skin. Even if only for a time.
I promise this really happened and is not just a weird way to say come to my birthday party. But - come to the gig! I’ve heard the whole set, and it’s good for what ails you. I promise.
Also, I promise that none of the loud sounds you hear on Saturday will be explained as “just gas escaping”. (Probably.)
See you soon,
Rebecca
just to get out ahead of this, I recognize that it must be the RIGHT chiropractor.