Antlers of the Heart
Here Is A Story Called: My Lumps and Bumps, or: How I Got A Hold of Myself
Starting at the age when medical providers would have anything to say about my chest, medical providers would say “Walp, you have fibro-cystic breasts.” Then kind of look something like Fozzy Bear, give me some form of manual or verbal pat on the back and usher me towards the door.
“But wait,” I’d say. “Does that mean something?”
“Yes,” they’d say. “It means your breasts are lumpy.”
Well, go ahead and call me Doctor, because I could feel that for myself.
“Ok,” I’d say, “But does that mean something? Should I be worried? Or work to change this? Is there something I should do? Is there anything I can do?”
The answer would invariably be some form of “not really.” With the occasional variation “It’s only a problem if it becomes a problem.”
Which left me feeling more distant from both Health or Care, as none of the above led me to feel informed about my tissues or functions, or in further connection with a lived experience of my body, or the people who were supposed to be supporting said body - myself included. Rather, I’d feel dissociated; how could I connect without framework, vocabulary, tools, or inroads? Where or how to even start. Disconnection would lead to further disconnection. Sometimes the tissues would hurt; I wouldn’t know why. (The medical explanation that amounted to “sometimes boobs do that” seemed grossly insufficient and did not inspire trust in “providers”.) Add to this a heap and a host and a dash and a drizzle of experiences surrounding gender, gaze, sexuality, agency, and identity (there’s only so much room in one story, kittens) and voila! a perfect storm of disembodiment, dysphoria, and discomfort.
My shoulders began to close in on themselves. My posture suffered. My jaw ground. My heart shriveled in ever-less-space. And try singing when your chest is a cage to which your tongue is chained. I receded further into my head, a perfectly reasonable place to live when the only action that feels available is worrying. (To be fair - many things contributed to this weather system, but the themes of lacking framework, vocabulary, tools, or inroads colored them all.)
The knee bone is, after all, connected to the leg bone.
And so it went for years.
Until.
Until! Luck bit me on the third nipple.
Which is to say: I had the great good fortune of meeting DeAnna Batdorff, Ayurvedic practitioner, who taught me (along with years of other practical, beautiful things) about the lymphatic system. She taught me how to care for my chest and breasts. She taught me about castor oil, the world’s great topical anti-inflammatory friend, and about tissue manipulation tools like gua sha and cups. She was the first person who ever asked me about my Heart. I’ll never forget the day she looked me square in the eye, tapped me on my forehead, and said, “This works fine.” Then she tapped my sternum. “What about Her?”
The tissues of my chest and breasts, once a fearful, locked room to me, are now a well-met place that I know how to support and to live in. Even more than that, we now have the kind of relationship wherein their changes are diagnostic and helpful to me. When my tissues change texture or present pain, I know them as a canary in the coalmine, understanding it’s time to pay attention and take some Care. I live with more Heart, (herein capitalized to indicate the energetics of a physical structure) because my chest doesn’t feel like a numb cage. There are now inroads for my Heart to be part of my life. Engaging my physical structures has continued to free me (process, friends - still in process) to experience the poetry therein. All this I am more able to do, because DeAnna (and other teachers, like mo washburn and Pamela Samuelson) taught me the tools to care for myself in dynamic, relational, skilled and kind ways.
Care which I hope now to offer to you, in the form of ANTLERS OF THE HEART. Alongside two of my dearest kin, colleagues, and teachers, mo washburn and Pamela Samuelson, we aim to pass these teachings on that YOU may have in your hands and Hearts some of these great tools of embodiment, freedom, and connection.
We welcome you, people of all genders and bodies, people who have chest- or breast-fed (or who want to), people who have had surgery of any kind here (or are preparing to), people who have no or partial or one or two breasts, people who have upholstery which they do not call breasts, people with upholstery they were not born with, people with nothing they’d call “upholstery,” people who are learning to breathe more freely, people who are grieving or heart-mending, people who want to know themselves and live in their bodies ever more fully. Those of us supporting anyone of the above. And on and on and on…. We welcome you to join us as we center this part of our bodies in the spirit of freedom and joy.
We welcome you to open your hearts and hands, to breathe deeply and let go, to hold and to give what is yours to hold and to give in this life, wildly and openly.
Liberate the antlers of your heart - and rise, delight-full.
With such love,
Willa
❤️ 🦌❤️
ANTLERS OF THE HEART
...an online workshop in the radical self-love of breast + chest care...
**open to all bodies + all genders**
Co-taught with Pamela Samuelson + Mo Washburn
Sunday December 8
12-3 Central
$75-150 Sliding Scale. Scholarships available.
Not ASL interpreted. Zoom captions available