Depth of Feeling

"People do not buy goods and services. They buy relations, stories, and magic."  Seth Godin

I’ve been thinking a lot about depth of feeling lately.

Maybe because I’m in the first few months of massage school, and everything feels both new and strangely familiar. My hands are learning anatomy. My mind is learning technique. But underneath all of that, something quieter is happening.

I’m remembering who I’ve always been.

Before massage school, I was an artist. A photographer. A storyteller. I was drawn to light and emotion — the pause before someone laughed, the softness in their eyes, the way a place holds memory.

I didn’t love photography because of cameras.

I loved it because of feeling.

The Story Beneath the Surface

“The words — even a single word — that we choose to describe a person or convey a scene shape the thoughts and perceptions of readers and listeners.”

That idea shaped how I approached photography. Framing mattered. Language mattered. The angle mattered.

A small shift changed the story.

Now, learning massage, I’m realizing the same is true with touch.

A slower pace changes the experience.A softer hand changes the nervous system. A pause changes everything.

We talk a lot in school about muscles and fascia and technique — and those things matter. But what fascinates me most is how the body responds when it feels safe.

When someone exhales for the first time in minutes.When shoulders drop without being told to.When silence becomes comfortable instead of tense.

It’s subtle.

It’s quiet.

It’s depth of feeling.

From Observing to Listening

Photography taught me to observe.

Massage is teaching me to listen.

In photojournalism, the most powerful images aren’t staged — they’re witnessed. You don’t force the moment. You wait for it.

I’m starting to see bodywork the same way.

You can’t rush release.

You can’t demand relaxation.

You can only create the conditions where it feels possible.

And honestly, that realization has humbled me.

Because I’m still learning. Still unsure. Still figuring out how to translate what I feel intuitively into skillful hands.

There are days I wonder if I’m cut out for this.

And then there are moments in clinicals — small, fleeting moments — where something shifts under my hands, and I think… oh.

There it is.

Asking Better Questions

Journalism is about asking questions.

It’s about curiosity without assumption.

We are reminded that we must interrogate our own assumptions and decisions — that storytelling requires reflection, not just observation.

Massage school is asking me to do the same.

Why do I think deeper pressure equals better work?

Why do I rush transitions?

Why do I equate doing more with being effective?

What if healing isn’t about intensity?

What if it’s about presence?

These questions feel bigger than massage.

They feel like life questions.

Not Sure What This Becomes

If you had asked me a year ago whether I would be in massage school, I’m not sure I would have said yes.

I’m not even entirely sure what this path becomes.

I don’t have a polished brand. I don’t have a clear five-year plan. I don’t know exactly what kind of practitioner I’ll be.

But I do know this:

I care about depth.

Depth of presence. Depth of honesty. Depth of feeling.

I don’t want to rush people through an experience. I don’t want to perform healing. I don’t want to build something that burns me out.

I want to understand what it means to support someone’s nervous system in a way that feels sustainable — for them and for me.

Maybe that’s the beginning.

A Return

Sometimes I wonder if this isn’t a pivot at all.

Maybe it’s a return.

A return to storytelling — just in a different medium.

I used to hold a camera.

Now I’m learning to hold space.

I used to capture emotion in a frame.

Now I’m learning to feel it through my hands.

I don’t know exactly where this leads.

But I know I’m being invited into something deeper.

And for now, that feels like enough.

— Robyn