There is a state that many people experience every day, but rarely talk about.
On the surface, you're functioning normally. Going to work, attending meetings, replying to messages, getting things done one by one—everything seems fine. But inside, you're tense. There's an inexplicable anxiety constantly churning in the background. It's as if many things are unresolved, as if something might go wrong at any moment, as if you're constantly holding on, supporting a situation that could collapse at any moment.
This world changes too fast, there's too much information, and we can control too little. Our nervous system is constantly in a state of mild, continuous preparedness. Outwardly calm, inwardly tense.
On days like these, there's one thing many people forget: your body is a place you can always return to.
We focus too much attention on things outside the body.
Think about where your attention goes each day.
On your phone screen, on your work to-do list, on other people's expectations, on your worries about the future, on those things you can't control but that constantly tug at your heartstrings. Your mind is almost always "outside," somewhere outside your body.
Rarely do you truly focus your attention on yourself. Truly feel your breath, feel your body, feel "I am here, truly alive."
This persistent outward focus is the root of much anxiety. Because the outside world is full of things you can't control. The more you surrender yourself to those uncontrollable things, the more panicked you become, and the more you feel like a leaf floating on water, being pushed around without any foothold.
And the body is the point of leverage that has always been there, always belonged to you, and can always be returned to. It's just that we haven't returned to it for too long.
Chanrou, what I'm giving you first is "stability".
When you step into a Chanrou class, the first thing that happens is that you are brought back to your body.
Through breathing, through movement, through awareness of the body, your scattered attention is gradually brought back. You begin to feel how your breath flows, how your spine extends, and the true state of your body at this moment.
This process of "returning to the body" has a direct effect on the nervous system. When your attention shifts from external worries to your body's sensations, the sympathetic nervous system, which has been constantly preparing and scanning for threats, will gradually calm down. Deep breathing stimulates the parasympathetic nervous system, which is responsible for calming the body. The body switches from tension to repair.
And so a long-lost sense of peace slowly rises within you. It's not because all your problems have been solved, but because you've finally returned to a stable place. Here, at this moment, your body is here safely, your breath is here safely, and that in itself is enough to bring peace.
In a world where nothing is under your control, your body is the fixed point you can still control and return to.
Then, it gives you "power".
But Chanrou offers more than just stability. If it were just stability, it wouldn't be much different from relaxation or meditation. Chanrou also gives you something else, and that thing is equally important: power.
However, the power mentioned here is not the kind of external power that is used to conquer or fight against something.
It's something more intrinsic. A certainty that "I can handle it." A sense of security that "I can stand firm." A peace of mind that "I have the ability to take care of myself."
This power comes from real changes in your body. When you use Chanrou (a massage technique), your core becomes more stable, your spine becomes more supported, and your legs become stronger. Your body will give you a very concrete feedback: I am reliable, I can support you.
This physical reliability translates into psychological certainty. A truly stable and resilient body gives one a sense of security from the inside out: no matter what happens outside, I can at least stand firm. This is a confidence that grows from within, and it is more genuine than any comforting words like "You must be strong."
Stability and power are actually two sides of the same coin.
Interestingly, the two things Chanrou gave her—stability and power—seemingly different, are actually two sides of the same coin.
Imagine a tree. It stands firm in the wind because its roots are deep and its trunk is strong. Its stability comes from its strength. And it grows this strength because it has a stable, unwavering center, allowing it to continuously root itself downwards and grow upwards. Its strength also comes from its stability.
The same applies to people. True stability is not numbness or escapism, but rather having enough inner strength to withstand the ups and downs. True strength is not about forcing yourself or being tense, but about having a stable center that allows strength to arise naturally.
Chanrou nourishes both of these qualities. It makes your body both stable and powerful, and this stability and power will seep into your inner self, making you a person who is both calm and strong.
You can come back anytime.
The world probably won't slow down, and the things that make you anxious won't all disappear.
But you can have a place, a place you can always return to. When you feel panicked, chaotic, or on the verge of collapse, you can return to your body, to your breath, to that place that has always belonged to you and has always been waiting for you. There, you will regain your peace and rebuild your strength.
What Chanrou teaches you is actually this path home. It lets you know that no matter how chaotic the outside world is, there is always a place within you where you can rest, take root, and start anew. And that place has always been within you; it has never left.
