Flexi-Move pain management and massage therapy

13/11/2025

Brilliant, we’ve finally reached the end of the book. If the first chapters were about structure, and the middle ones about movement, then the final chapter is pure body philosophy.
Myers closes Anatomy Trains not as a dry textbook, but as a manifesto, an exploration of how to understand the body as a living, learning system, where fascia isn’t just tissue, but the intelligence of movement.

Chapter 12
Integration, Awareness, and Fascial Intelligence: “Your body is smarter than you think”
or: What happens when anatomy stops being anatomy and becomes life itself

Main Idea

Myers puts it simply but powerfully:
“We are fascial organisms temporarily using muscles and bones.”

In other words; the body isn’t a skeleton with muscles hung upon it, but a living tension network that adapts to experience, stress, movement, and even thought.
Fascia is what makes the body whole.
And here’s his key idea:
“Body awareness doesn’t begin in the brain, it begins in the connective tissue.”

Fascial Intelligence

Myers introduces the concept of fascial intelligence, the body’s innate ability to sense, coordinate, and heal without conscious effort.
He notes that fascia contains more nerve endings than most muscles, and it’s this system that provides proprioception, our awareness of body position in space.

That means:
when you sense balance,
when you catch yourself in a movement,
when your body just knows how to lie down, it’s not your mind doing that.
It’s your fascial nervous network, your body’s own brain.

From Mechanics to Dynamics

Myers emphasises:
“The body is not a machine, it’s an ecosystem.”
And in this ecosystem, fascia is like soil:
muscles grow in it (like trees), blood flows through it (like rivers),
and nerves spread through it (like roots).
If the soil is dry, compacted, or torn, the ecosystem suffers,
even if the trees look green.
So the goal of therapy isn’t to fix a muscle, but to restore hydration, mobility, and connection in the tissue.

Fascia and Emotion

Here Myers takes a bold step:
he writes that fascia responds to emotional states; not metaphorically, but literally.
Stress → cortisol release → tissue stiffens, loses elasticity.
Joy, movement, laughter → improve fascial fluid circulation, the tissue comes alive.
He even suggests viewing fascial work as emotional integration:
through movement, you can literally rewrite old emotional patterns.

Principles of Fascial Awareness

Myers closes the book with practical guidance; how to work with the body beyond massage or medicine:
1. Move with sensation, not effort.
Fascia learns through gentleness, not struggle.
2. Breathe in movement.
The diaphragm is the fascial bridge between body and mind.
3. Listen to the tissues.
Pain isn’t an enemy, it’s a message: “I’m out of sync.”
4. Train elasticity, not just strength.
Bouncing, rolling, soft mobility; anything that brings back the spring.
5. Change movement patterns.
When the body always moves the same way, fascia stagnates.
Variety = youthfulness of the tissue.

A Practical Example (from Myers’ Case Work)

A client comes to him with chronic shoulder pain.
After three fascial sessions, the pain disappears, not because the shoulder was fixed, but because the client began to breathe, walk, and sense differently.

Myers concludes:
“True healing doesn’t happen on the therapist’s table, it happens the moment a person regains their wholeness.”

Metaphor of the Day

Fascia is the body’s internet.
It connects everything to everything else. And if there’s a disconnection somewhere, the system doesn’t crash, it finds a detour.
Our job is to restore a stable signal.

Conclusion

Chapter 12 isn’t just the end of the book, it’s its philosophical climax.
Myers sums up twenty years of research:
Fascia isn’t auxiliary tissue, it’s the body’s primary sensory organ.
Movement isn’t mechanics, it’s the self-organisation of a living network.
Working with the body isn’t treatment, it’s teaching harmony.

And Myers leaves us with one last, beautiful line:
“When you begin to see the body as a system of fascial trains,
you stop trying to fix people,
and start helping them become themselves.”

13/11/2025

You can keep saying you’re fine, just tired, a bit stiff lately… but your body doesn’t lie.
It screams through muscle tension, twists your joints, steals your breath, throws in sleepless nights and stress for good measure.
You call it fatigue. I call it a system jam.
My tool? Deep fascial and therapeutic massage.
It’s not candles and spa music, it’s about giving your nervous system a break, helping you recover after injuries, and working through chronic pain you’ve probably accepted as just life now.
It’s when you get off the table and, for the first time in ages, there’s silence inside.
That rare peace you try to find in holidays, meditation, or a glass of wine.
I don’t sell massage.
I bring you back into your body.
I help it breathe, move and feel again.
If you’re done living in a constant “keep it together” mode; welcome.
No battles here. Just release.

Look, fascia isn’t mysticism, it’s biomechanics.
Chronic tension, stress, pain; not karma, just a body that’s forgotten how to relax.
And me? I am reminds it. No crystals, no nonsense, just skilled hands, anatomy, and common sense.
And yes, it works. Tried and tested; on real people, not lab rats.

Book your session now

13/11/2025

Trigger Points: The Drama Queens of the Muscular World

Trigger points are like that one friend who overreacts to everything.
Tiny patch of tight muscle fibre; massive, radiating pain.
Press the shoulder? Pain in the neck.
Press the glute? Pain down the leg.
Welcome to referred pain, the nervous system’s favourite prank.

Massage therapy helps deactivate these overexcited zones, calm the neuromuscular response, and restore normal muscle tone.
You can’t smash a trigger point out of existence, you negotiate with it.
And like most negotiations, it starts with breathing.

12/11/2025

A human really doesn’t need much to be happy.
Something to eat. Some sleep. And for no one to get on your nerves. That’s it.
But the moment you get all that, the brain flips a switch: “Hmm… what if it could be even better?”
And off we go.
Yesterday, a pot noodle and Netflix were enough.
Today, you want truffle pasta and a holiday in Bali.
The brain, the cheeky bastard, doesn’t know how to be content. It’s not built for happiness; it’s built for survival.
Its only programme: “Evolve or die.”
So here we are, like hamsters on steroids, sprinting after the next upgrade of happiness.
A new job, a new car, a new tattoo; anything for that little dopamine click: “Ah yes, this is it, I’ve made it!”
But give it a week, and it’s gone again.
Why? Because your brain’s already adapted.
It’s eaten your happiness and is now asking for seconds.
Here’s the trick:
While you’re chasing upgrades, real happiness is sitting quietly in the corner, laughing.
Because it lives in the simplest things.
In a hot cup of coffee.
In the fact that someone was waiting for you.
In the silence after a loud day.
That’s the moment the beast inside finally stops scratching at the walls, and just breathes.
So, mate, don’t confuse upgrading your comfort with levelling up your happiness.
Improve your life, sure, but don’t lose the joy of simple things.
Because happiness doesn’t grow with your pay cheque.
It grows with awareness.

12/11/2025

“It’s All in Your Head,” The Worst Sentence Ever

When someone with chronic pain hears that, it feels like a slap.
But ironically, the science says yes, it is in your head… and that’s exactly why you can change it.
Pain is a perception, shaped by context, stress, memory, even language.
That means new input; safe touch, education, and positive movement, can literally rewrite the map.
So no, you’re not imagining it.
You’re just living in a nervous system that needs to learn trust again.

11/11/2025

ITBand release

Fix tightness and build an athletically functional body herehttp://athleanx.com/x/build-the-body-of-an-athleteMany lifters, runners and bikers will get pain ...

11/11/2025

Felt a bit philosophical today, so here comes a matching post.

The Past. It’s called the past for a reason; because it’s gone.

You know what’s funny? We call it the past, yet we still live there, like tenants in a cold, rented flat with no heating. We wander through old rooms of memory, run our hands along the walls of pain, reread conversations with ghosts. And then we wonder why the present feels so chilly.
But if you really think about it, it’s all gone.
Not “almost gone,” not “sometimes I still think about it,” just gone.
Everything that once was is now an archive, a story, a reel of film. You can press play, but the screen won’t become reality again.
You’re not the person who made those mistakes.
You’re not that version of yourself who didn’t know, couldn’t, or wasn’t ready.
You’re the updated 2.0 version, but your system keeps trying to run the old programme.
Here’s the trick: the past doesn’t need fixing. It needs releasing.
Let it go. Let it take its rightful place; in the archives of experience.
You don’t need to go back there to prove you’ve learned your lesson.
Life moves forward not because it’s in a rush, but because going back is a dead end.
So if you feel stuck, ask yourself honestly:
maybe you’re just holding the door open to a place where you no longer exist?

Close it.
Say thank you.
And move on.

Because it’s all in the past.
And you’re still here.
That alone - is victory.

11/11/2025

Every so often, a client reminds me why I do what I do.
Alan recently wrote:
“It is evident that you are so much more than simply a massage therapist.”

That’s exactly the goal; to go beyond the surface.
Massage, when practiced with intention, is not just about relieving tension, it’s about restoring balance, improving posture, supporting recovery, and maintaining wellbeing over time.

Preventative care matters.
Your body deserves maintenance, not emergency repairs.

Proud to see clients feel that difference, and even prouder to help them stay well, not just get well.

10/11/2025

How You’re Killing Yourself with a Walking Stick

So, I had a patient today. I walk into the room, and there he is.
All crooked and tilted, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, only sadder. Barely moving.
Clutching his walking stick like a knight clings to his sword, ready to die for it if necessary.

I think: “Poor bloke. Life’s battered him, joints written off, probably on a lifetime subscription to the chemist.”

I sit him down and ask,
“What seems to be the problem, how can I help?”

And then it begins…
A full-blown symphony of complaints, long enough to fill the NHS database.

Shoulder hurts, knee won’t bend, lower back creaks, neck lives its own independent life.
Can’t sleep; either the moon’s too bright or the neighbour’s cat is plotting against him.

I listen, nod, thinking: “Maybe I should open a pharmacy in the corner of my clinic; Boots & Beyond."

Anyway, I say,
"Alright, let’s take a look at you."

And he goes,
“Can I nip to the loo first?”

Of course you can! We don’t need a new indoor waterfall today.

And then… I see it.
He walks.
Without the stick.

I blink.
No wobble, no Titanic soundtrack, no limp. Just... walking.
Like a perfectly normal human being!

I think: “Okay, maybe he’s gathered his strength. Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Skipping the technical bit, there was some muscular magic, fascia work, and a few motivational phrases that can’t be printed here, but the result?
He comes out after the massage looking like Buddha post-enlightenment.

Says,
“The pain’s not gone completely, but it’s a lot better. Feels amazing.”

I’m pleased.
But then… he grabs the stick.
And leans on it like it’s a mining hoist.
Crawls sideways to the door like a crab after the office Christmas party.

I stare and ask,
“Sorry, but why do you need the stick again?”

He says,
“The doctor told me to.”

Ahhh… well, if the doctor said so... sacred relic indeed!
I nearly saluted.

But curiosity gets me:
“What for, exactly?”

He goes,
“For compensation.”

“Compensation for what?”

“For balance.”

And at that moment, I swear, the door of common sense slammed shut in my head.

I look at him and can’t help it:
“What bloody balance? You’re leaning on it like it’s a bar stool!”

You’re not compensating, you’re destroying yourself!
I’ve just spent two hours putting you back together, freeing your neck, relaxing your shoulder, and you’ve dumped it all back into the stick!

He says,
“But my knees are bad! I was told I’ll need new ones. I’m even booked for surgery.”

I nearly choked.
“New knees? At thirty-eight? Are you joking?”

Your knees are fine, it’s your glutes that are on strike!

They’re like, “Nah, mate, not today. We’re on break.”
The IT band’s pulling the knee, the hip’s twisted, the posture’s shot, and the knees get blamed.

Wake up your bum, and the pain will disappear.
From your knees, from your back, even the fog in your head will clear.

And that stick? Chuck it.
Let it stand in the corner as decoration.

Because every time you walk leaning your whole body weight on it, you’re literally telling your muscles:
“Relax, lads, I’ll handle everything. You can die off quietly.”

And your body listens. It doesn’t argue, it gets lazy right along with you.

So no, the stick isn’t saving you, it’s crippling you.
Not physically at first, but systemically; it switches your muscles off.
Then you wonder:
“Why am I falling apart?”

Simple answer: because your bum’s not working.
And the bum, my friends, is the king of the body.
When it abdicates, the whole kingdom collapses.

So, dear patients,
if you’re 38 and walking with a stick,
maybe the problem isn’t in your knees…
but in your laziness.

Get off the chair, switch your glutes back on,
and maybe... just maybe...
you won’t need new joints,
new pills,
or a new doctor.

Just a new habit:
to move like a living human being,
not a monument to your own suffering.

10/11/2025

The Pacing Paradox: Move Less to Move More

People with chronic pain often fall into two traps: overdo it or do nothing.
Both fuel the same problem; inconsistent input to the nervous system.
Pacing isn’t weakness; it’s strategy.
It means dosing activity so your body learns safety in movement again, not panic.
Massage helps by reducing the system’s background noise, so motion feels possible again.
You don’t fight pain by crushing it. You outsmart it, one calm repetition at a time.

09/11/2025

If you have IT Band Syndrome or pain on the outside of your knee or thigh, then you know how debilitating it can be to your running, biking and lifting. In t...

09/11/2025

Pain Lives in the Brain, Not in the Back

When your back hurts for months, it feels like something’s broken.
But the truth? Most chronic pain isn’t about tissue damage, it’s about a nervous system stuck in protection mode.
Your brain keeps screaming DANGER! long after the threat is gone.
Why? Because it’s learned to. Neural pathways repeat the alarm until someone teaches them to quiet down.
Massage, movement, and education retrain that loop.
You’re not broken, you’re adapted. And adaptation can be rewired.