Get on the good foot
Home » Magazine » Good, issue 2 » The goods » Get on the good footReflexology is one of the most popular complementary therapies. Annabel McAleer puts her feet up to find out what it is and how it works, and is surprised to hear her therapist drop the c-word
Enjoyable sensations emanate from my nether-most parts as my feet are wibbled gently from side to side, reflexologist Xanthe Ashton’s hands rubbing briskly back and forth along each foot in turn. I’ve just learned that many reflexologists view the feet as a reflection of character and personality, and I feel oddly vulnerable.
What do my feet say about me? As the treatment progresses, they say I have a layer of protection around my shoulders and lungs, my stomach is bubbly, I’m dehydrated and my stress levels are high.
She’s right about the stomach (I’ve just been on holiday, eating with gay abandon), the dehydration (drinking with similar abandon), and the stress (deadline looming, why did I think a holiday was a good idea?). The layer of protection is about emotions rather than physical symptoms, and could represent a burden of responsibilities, a lack of spontaneity or unexpressed grief. Like most people, I can identify.
Although it feels much like an expertly delivered foot massage, reflexology takes a rather more holistic view of the appendages than your average enthusiastic paramour.
Reflexology is based on the principle that each part of the body is represented in the feet. Applying pressure to a specific area of the foot has an affect on the corresponding area of the body. (The same principle can also be applied to hands and ears, though foot reflexology is the most common.)
Each foot represents the organs on its side of the body: the liver is on the right side of the body, so its corresponding area is tucked behind the ball of the right foot. The stomach is mostly on the left side of the body, so two-thirds of the tummy is represented in the arch of the left foot, one-third on the right.
This foot-body symmetry surprises me, since the brain works the opposite way: the right hemisphere of the brain controls the left-hand side of the body. But reflexology doesn’t claim to be a western science; it’s sometimes referred to as a ‘healing art’, intended to work on an emotional level as well as physical. The goal is to balance the ‘flow of energy’ in the body, known as qi in Chinese medicine.
By systematically massaging each organ via the feet, the theory goes, imbalances in body function can be resolved. A reflexologist can tell if your body is not in balance by feeling ‘deposits’ beneath the skin of the foot. Xanthe, who teaches reflexology at the Canterbury College of Natural Medicine, explains that these deposits typically feel like firmness, grittiness or crystals.
(The c-word! As a newcomer to complementary therapies, I wasn’t expecting the c-word just yet. Still, at least these crystals are in my feet, not being waved around, chanted over or placed on my third eye.)
These gritty bits are broken down by the reflexology treatment, reintroduced to the system and flushed out by the water you’re instructed to drink afterwards. The exact mechanisms by which all this works remain mysterious.
Reflexology may release endorphins (natural painkillers), stimulate nerve circuits, promote lymphatic flow, help dissolve uric acid crystals (aha!) or—my favourite—improve mood due to neuronal overlapping between areas of the brain connected to the foot and the genitals, which are adjacent to each other in the somatosensory cortex. None of these theories have yet been scientifically proven.
So, does it work?
An exhaustive review of all the available science by the Natural Standard international research collaboration and Harvard Medical School (good.net.nz/2/reflex1) found some evidence that reflexology may help treat anxiety, PMS, headaches, swollen legs and feet, symptoms of multiple sclerosis, pain and fatigue in cancer patients, chemotherapy side effects, faecal and urinary incontinence, diabetes, depression, labour pain and menopausal hot flashes. In all cases, further research or clinical trials were deemed necessary.
Xanthe, the president of Reflexology New Zealand, doesn’t make bold promises about the efficacy of the treatment. Reflexology is a first resort, she says, prevention rather than cure. There’s no way it can compete with a drug regimen—although sometimes patients are referred by GPs as a last resort, when medication fails.
If registered reflexologists encounter something outside their scope of practice, they’re required to refer you onwards, either to another complementary therapist or a medical doctor. The code of ethics does not permit reflexologists to make a diagnosis or any claims to cure. As Xanthe puts it, “If I find an imbalance in the stomach, I wouldn’t know if it was a stomach ulcer or just tension being held there.”
Frequently stated benefits of regular reflexology are improved circulation, lymphatic drainage—especially for puffy feet and ankles—and regular bowel movements. It’s also commonly used as a pre-pregnancy treatment, said to help the endocrine system communicate, and balance the function of hormone-producing glands.
Most importantly, says Xanthe, it helps relieve stress. A reflexology appointment gives you time out from daily life, an hour of rest and relaxation, and a better night’s sleep. Because you remove only your shoes and socks, those who feel shy about stripping off for a full-body massage find they are better able to relax and enjoy the experience.
There’s a reason why foot spas are one of the world’s most popular gifts: not much beats a pampering of the body’s most neglected, hardest-working parts. I float out of my appointment feeling calm and completely unwound. My typically frozen tootsies are toasty warm, and stay that way throughout the day—despite trudging through pounding hail and icy wind.
I’m not convinced that reflexology has any more therapeutic value than a good foot massage, and suspect it’s really the hour of undivided attention and sensual pleasure that’s good for you. Perhaps that’s the reason most foot spas end up buried beneath camping equipment in a dark cupboard: you just can’t beat the human touch. My feet crave attention for the rest of the week.
In the zone
Reflexology is based on the work of William Fitzgerald, an early 20th-century ear, nose and throat surgeon who developed a technique called ‘zone therapy’, which divided the body into ten zones corresponding to areas of the foot. In the 1930s, physiotherapist Eunice Ingham filled in his foot maps to include specific reflex points, and the practice was renamed reflexology.
Lest that all seem too recent, be reassured that ancient Egyptian tombs depict hand and foot massage, and techniques similar to reflexology have been used in China for a few thousand years. (The ‘meridian lines’ used in Chinese reflexology are slightly different from western reflex points, however; the kidneys are represented in different places on the foot, for example.)
Need to know
What happens: Your first appointment should begin with a 20-minute consultation, where your medical history is taken. After taking your shoes and socks off, your feet will be washed and the treatment begins with a gentle foot massage. The therapist then works on one foot at a time, gently pressing into the foot, working from the toes to the ball of the foot, along the top of the foot, down the sole towards the heel, and finally the ankles and tendons.
What it feels like: Warm, soothing and extremely relaxing. It’s not unusual for clients to fall asleep. It shouldn’t hurt, although some clients report areas of tenderness, which are said to correspond to weakness in the related area of the body. Because of the firm, steady pressure, most people don’t find it ticklish.
Cost: $50 to $90 for a one-hour treatment.
Tips: Always choose a registered reflexologist (reflexology.org.nz/find.html). Avoid if you have osteoarthritis in the foot, active gout, athlete’s foot, if you’ve ever had a deep-vein thrombosis, if pregnant, if married to Marsellus Wallace. And if you suspect you might be really ill, go to the doctor.
