When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves. Viktor Frankl

Author’s note: This was written in August 2016 and read to my graduating class.

I just finished my third ever Ten Series with a client from the public. The completion of these sessions goes along with the completion of my Basic Training at the Rolf Institute® of Structural Integration (SI) and the end of a life chapter beginning more than a year ago. It has been a long time coming and it will be a short time going back home.

With all of this and other big changes in mind, I have been thinking a lot about the word ‘closure’. Being a natural lingerer I never really had a knack for ending things. In most settings I kind of just waited until I was the last person to go so I didn’t have to say goodbye: I just wanted to hold the space and keep holding it until the people who left returned. The same applies to how I operate throughout the day: I just keep doing things until I pass out because I don’t want to end the day, I want to hold onto it and make it last as long as possible so there are more opportunities for people, places, and things to continue adding to my experience of it. It is a bit tiring to say the least but oftentimes feels rewarding. So even though I’ve been thinking a lot about closure, I still don’t believe I understand it or how it applies to my life. But some wisdom began brewing within me when I was introduced to Closure as one of the Principles of Intervention in Rolfing® SI.

There are many moments in my life where I find myself living with a Zen-like rhythm. Most people have experienced something like it, where in the midst of an activity they realize they could just keep going. It could be a long run or hike. It could happen while painting a picture or jamming with friends. It could occur while lovers are enjoying the company of one another. It could be someone getting on a roll with projects at work. I think it is a wonderful feeling, even more so when I have a real passion for the activity. With such engaging delight it is difficult to know when to stop or when the time is right to be finished. Is there ever a right time? If so, what determines that? How do I know when the moment is done when there is so much more that could be done? Am I ever finished?

I guess we could say that nothing is ever entirely finished. There is always more to do. Even with more to do we could also say that there comes a point where we don’t have to do anymore. Take something like Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa: sure, it could have been added to – but I think the general consensus is that is was best that “Leo” left it as it was when he realized he was done. There are points when we know we are finished as creators, and time is not always the determining factor. Time is indeed influential in how we finish things, but there are still a lot of ways in which the developing art of closure can make that limitation seemingly nonexistent.

We need closure. We need it not just as a means to navigate personal relationships but also as a means to navigate through many of our daily practices. Even things like going to bed require a certain form of closure that allows us to let go of the current day thereby enabling us to wake up for the next.

There are places where I have wanted to remain forever and moments I never wanted to end. There are sessions where I feel like I could keep working with that Zenlike rhythm. Sometimes I feel like I can dig deeper and keep uncovering new territory, but something stops me. It is not just the time, the overload, or the realities of getting tired and hungry. Instead, it is for the sake of growth. Things need space and time between interventions if they are to evolve. The silence between experiences is just as important as the moments themselves. That silence, that nothingness, is being in its purest form. The form responds to the interventions made by us. When we let go of that form and free it from the confines of our intentions it can then grow into what it wants to become.

This is getting heady but the main point I wanted to make is that the word ‘closure’ has come to mean something more to me than what it initially did. As a principle of Rolfing SI, closure guides my work in letting me know when to stop and let things be. It is just as important as what I choose to do and how much of it. I keep closure in mind, not just at the tenth session of a Ten Series but in every session, in every intervention, and in every touch. In every experience there is a beginning, a middle, and and end that forms a completeness, and form loves completeness. Rolfing SI is not just an art of doing, it is an art of not doing.

Noel Poff currently lives and runs his practice Lowcountry Rolfing in Charleston, SC. He first came to the field of bodywork through personal training and massage therapy in 2005. He completed massage school and became a licensed practitioner in 2007. Subsequently, he went on to study philosophy as both as an undergrad and graduate student at the University of South Carolina. Feeling more compelled to work with movement, Noel eventually found it most accessible through Rolfing SI. He completed his Basic Training at the Rolf Institute in Boulder, Colorado in August of 2016. For more information about Noel you can visit his website www.lowcountryrolfing.com or contact him at [email protected].