My Anatomical Enlightenment

5-Day Dissection with Tom Myers and Tod Garcia
ADVANCED FASCIAL TRAINING

It all started with a somewhat unusual Christmas gift from my husband (who is also a therapist) a 5-day dissection course with Tom Myers, the creator of Anatomy Trains and an internationally renowned teacher whom I admire. What made this gift even more intriguing was that the course was to be taken — here’s the interesting part — during our honeymoon across the Atlantic.

I remember myself beaming with genuine happiness in the cosy, warm light of the Christmas tree…full of joy and anticipation. Finally, I would get to see the body from within: all of the intricate ligaments connecting the internal organs that I had eagerly tried to palpate and visualise during my Visceral Manipulation training; along with other fascinating structures that I have grown so deeply familiar with through years of my practice as a therapist.

On the arrival to the venue in Tempe, Arizona, I saw the institute name prominently displayed above the door, and my excitement immediately went up to yet another level: ‘Laboratories of Anatomical Enlightenment’ (LofAE). To a practicing Buddhist like myself, the name sounded like a meaningful ‘coincidence’. I quietly smiled to myself.

The classroom interior was white and sterile-clean, filled with rows of shiny metal tables that reflected the bright overhead lights. We quickly moved through the introductions, and I found myself feeling both excited and surprisingly relaxed, gently lulled into a sense of security by the familiar format and the class procedures.

Then… surprise! We were suddenly informed that we would receive a 5-minute tutorial on how to use a scalpel in order to begin dissecting ourselves! ‘Erm… Excuse me?’ I looked at my husband with a puzzled expression. ‘We are doing… erm… we are doing what?’ I could feel my mouth drying up rapidly. Surely, there must have been some kind of misunderstanding. I had been mentally prepared to gain my ‘anatomical enlightenment’ from the safe and comfortable position of a fascinated, yet very passive, observer…

From that moment onward, events began unfolding at an astonishing pace. The video tutorial ended far too quickly. We were all clad in white overalls, face masks, gloves, and goggles, ready to proceed. The bodies had to be carefully removed from the fridges. I heard Tom Myers calling out for help, his eyes searching the room for volunteers. Instinctively, I took a large mental step back and froze in place. Under no circumstances should I make eye contact with him now, I silently told myself. I am absolutely not touching anything.

Still frozen in place, I watched the first volunteers busily attending to the first body, and then the second, and then the third. Everything seemed to speed up even more rapidly around me. There was so much to take in! Gradually, the visual, olfactory, and auditory impressions began to blur together, feeling almost like a dream. I forced myself to take another mental step back. I wanted to turn around and go home. And then, in that moment, I remembered the Bodhisattva promise.

To always benefit others. To be there for them at the times of… well… at all times, no matter the circumstances. Crumbs, how embarrassing! I felt ashamed. These people had offered their bodies for us to learn from, and yet here I stood, frozen, unable to move. I felt a massive push from behind (my husband promised me it wasn’t him) and I stumbled forward. Despite my obviously pale and trembling appearance, I tried my best to look composed and ‘normal’. A second later, I was there, right next to the body. I carefully lifted it with the others, easing it gently onto the table. Uncovering it. And… I gasped…

We started dissecting immediately, beginning with the skin and adipose tissue. My stomach, however, did not share the calm, enlightened attitude I had remembered. It was twisting and turning relentlessly, screaming inside. How embarrassing... I couldn’t stand up straight, I was afraid I might faint. My hands, now holding a scalpel, were shaking. I tried hard to suppress my bodily reactions, repeating calming mantras and focusing on feelings of gratitude. Despite my efforts, nothing seemed to ease the turmoil. When I made the first incision at the wrist, it felt like opening a door to a completely different dimension. I was filled with amazement, but my stomach kept leaping wildly. I felt totally overwhelmed.

After a break, I found myself struggling to return to the lab. The concept of impermanence, which had always seemed familiar and well understood during my meditation sessions, suddenly hit me hard and delivered a series of sharp, awakening slaps. It was incredibly challenging to face this.

I wasn’t impressed at all. We (me and my uneasy stomach) struggled throughout the entire day, each moment feeling heavier than the last. My husband generously took on all the difficult tasks upon himself to help me. I felt profoundly disappointed with myself, overwhelmed by an intense sense of failure. We walked slowly back to the hotel under the big Arizona sky, the setting sun didn’t seem as breathtaking as it had been the previous night. I couldn’t focus on anything except the desperate need to escape.

I showered several times, everything still smelled of the lab. My mind was a chaotic mess. I cried a little. Then, I cried some more. I talked to my husband for hours, finally he fell asleep. After hours of despair, I finally woke him up and announced with a heavy heart: ‘I am not going back tomorrow or on any of the remaining four days. I am really sorry. I can’t do this.’

We talked for what seemed like hours. He told me he believed in me, he was confident I could do it and how I would benefit a great deal. He reminded me that this was my dream. I listened, apologised, cried a lot, and still said no. Worried that our marriage might be over before the end of the honeymoon, Cintain offered to buy plane tickets to Mexico the very next morning. This way, we would get to the next part of our honeymoon earlier than originally planned, giving us a chance to start fresh. It calmed me down considerably. Exhausted, I drifted off.

I dreamed of the … psoas major, my favourite hip flexor, the only muscle with its own nerve plexus, the one that I had released so many times for my clients over the years. I vividly remembered witnessing the laughter and the tears that came with the emotional releases. A wave of regret settled over me. I glanced at the clock: it was 3am. Unable to stay silent, I gently woke my husband.

‘I want to see it’, I said

‘Hmm, What?’, he startled, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

‘The Psoas.’

‘Have you changed your mind?’ 

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

He told me he was proud of me and we fell asleep in a big hug. 

The second day was hard. The battle with my stomach felt somewhat easier since I came better prepared this time (I skipped breakfast). I still struggled to fully appreciate what was happening around me. Cintain reminded me to breathe whenever I seemed tense. He kept looking at me with concern, he had never seen my skin so pale. The day dragged on, feeling incredibly long, but I kept persevering with a renewed sense of determination. Eventually, we walked back to the hotel and we collapsed into sleep.

On the third day, it started getting fascinating. With skin and adipose tissue removed it was possible to carefully dissect the muscles, layer by layer. I was amazed how different they were from what I knew from the anatomy books. I saw the psoas major that day! I held it. Then carefully detached it from the spine and the thigh bone. 

Day four was a revelation. With muscle layers gone, we discovered viscera. I started feeling like I had known the owner of this body for ages. We had a series of little quiet conversations (in my head). I found some large abdominal adhesions that must have been causing her pain for years. I cut them off gently, and apologised for getting there too late to ease the pain. 

My husband carefully opened the ribcage, we explored the lungs. We observed the heart, nestled securely within the protective sac of the pericardium. The front of the spine, viewed from the inside of the body was an absolute wonder. What struck me was that this remarkable woman, who generously donated her precious body to us, despite being in her late 90s at the time of her passing, was absolutely magnificent inside. I truly hope she knew how beautiful she was.

The fifth day was exhausting and amazing in equal measure. Having removed all of the soft tissue and internal organs we got to explore the skeleton. We also walked around the room to see the other students at work. We were amazed by their discoveries: injuries, surgical scars within the body, old-fashioned implants and prosthetics — testimonies of the medicine of a different era.

My eyes welled up with tears when it was finally over. One of us asked if there was any chance we could pass along our gratitude to the families of the deceased. The answer was no. Throughout the room, there were tears of thankfulness. Tears that could not be received by anyone.

As a farewell, Todd Garcia - master anatomist and owner of LofAE, asked us to take one thing away from this experience: ‘Be kind to people… be kind before it’s too late.’ 

The experience has completely changed my therapeutic practice and my life. I will never be the same. I am grateful. To my husband, for always believing in me despite of my own doubts. To Tom Myers for generously sharing his expertise and his deep fascination with anatomy, which is clearly contagious. And Todd Garcia and their assistants, for leading us through this experience with such knowledge and grace.

And most of all, to the brave woman who, whilst dying of cancer in her late 90s, decided to donate her own body in the hope that it might be useful still. 

I hope to be just as brave when my time comes. 

Thank You.

The Anatomy Trains dissection courses can be found at: https://www.anatomytrains.com/courses-trainings/fascial-dissection/