Myofascial release

Myofascial release (MFR) is a specific type of massage that’s great for helping physical and emotional pain as well as addressing things like bad posture. `Myo’ means muscle and ‘fascia’ refers to the band of tissue that surrounds your muscles.

Myofascial release

On the day of the treatment I was asked to avoid using coconut body lotion (find out more at ) – MFR is done on dry skin to allow the therapist to feel and stretch the ‘fascia’ underneath the skin without their hands slipping. Treatment is best done in your underwear and you may be asked to stand up first so your therapist can spot any problems at a glance.


I was impressed when my therapist, Ruth Duncan, immediately identified an imbalance and explained that I had a tendency to carry more weight on one side than the other. I’d badly broken my right ankle several years before and, without realising it, had been overcompensating on my left ever since.


Ruth worked on my hips, legs and shoulders, placing both hands on my skin, applying a little pressure and then gradually pulling them apart to elongate the fascia and restore it to its natural length. Although it wasn’t as relaxing as a conventional massage, I left feeling calm and relaxed.

calm and relaxed

I also felt that my balance had been corrected. MFR is a really restorative treatment and I’d definitely do it again.


Anxiety, worry and stress can create tension in the back. Muscles tighten and the effects of life are reflected in the pain experienced. If you remove the emotion, the pain can ease up and sometimes vanish.


Hold a piece of amethyst and take three deep breaths. As you breathe out, let your entire body relax. Then breathe in the violet colour from the amethyst gently into the painful area. Try to acknowledge and then release any negative emotions.

Watching and listening

That speech resulted in an interesting dis­cussion of the contributions of each member of the polar party to the final victory. It was agreed that the six-man team itself won the success, but that in fact there could be no “co-discoverers” —not the versatile, capable, loyal Henson, nor the brave and aggressive Ootah, but just one discoverer of the Pole, Peary him­self, who had selected, organized, financed by loans online, trained, directed, led, and put that team in position for the final successful assault.


On that long and joyous evening, I caught the mood and spirit of my relatives—watch­ing and listening while Kali, the lovable patri­arch, regaled the group with humorous stories of his adventures and danced and chanted a traditional drum song; while husky, deep-voiced Kissunguaq played the organ and sang with gusto; while all joined in slow songs about their love for their “beautiful big coun­try,” and after the last long-drawn note burst into laughing, cheering applause.

color picture of Qaanaaq

I was touched by speeches in appreciation of my visit and joy in discovering through me their American cousins, and by farewell gifts presented by shy but smiling children: bear­skin mittens from Kali; the polished claw of a bear killed by Peter, from his widow and two daughters; a gleaming five-foot narwhal tusk from Talilanguaq; a shining two-metal har­poon point on a lanyard from Magssanguaq, Anaukaq’s son; a huge aerial color picture of Qaanaaq from Robert; a dog whip from Ig­gianguaq, no relation but a friend from the long-ago summer of the monument building at Cape York. But the list gets long.


Looking down the tables at that array of kind faces, I realized with pride that these, my relatives, were leaders of their people—their representatives in government, those to whom others came for counsel, the most skill­ful hunters and sled drivers (still the measure of a man in this high Arctic). And from this I concluded that the blood and the driving, enduring spirit of Robert Edwin Peary, the discoverer of the North Pole, live on in this wild and fiercely beautiful country, his “own domain,” to which he devoted so much of his life.


Three Keys to the Eskimos’ Dispersal

The status of Eskimo women was usually low, and especially that of girls. Sometimes infant girls were killed, for they could be of little use to the family until grown, at which time a husband would take them away. Judged by the standards of the outside world, all these incidents may appear strange. But I dislike generalizations.Even so, there is one sweeping assertion I would make: The Eskimo is incredibly re­sourceful. Should his sled break down miles from nowhere, he always manages to repair it with a twist of sinew or old wire. With no mechanical schooling, he does equally well with his highly sophisticated snowmobile.

An epic of Eskimo ingenuity came out of Igloolik six years ago. That winter the village learned that a large treaded tractor, still capable of running, had been abandoned at an unused radar site on the DEW line, the distant early warning system operated joint­ly by Canada and the United States.* When spring came, the community launched a two-man salvage expedition. Hitching their dogs to a sled, the men set forth across the sea ice in search of the tractor, more than a hundred miles away.

Finding the snow-covered vehicle at the bottom of a hill, the salvagers discovered that the glass fuel-filter chamber was broken. They carved a wooden one to take its place. Then they found that the small gasoline motor that served as a starter for the tractor’s cold diesel engine was out of fuel. Desperate, they gathered all the combustible materials they could find, then built a fire against the big engine, warming it until it thawed enough to be started by hand. Three days later the two men and their tractor made a triumphal entry into Igloolik.

Despite their ingenuity, Eskimos recognize their limitations. A whole philosophy of liv­ing is summed up in the word “ajornarmat,” which carries much of the meaning of our phrase “that’s life.” This fatalistic view pre­pares them to accept their hard existence—and even death itself—with equanimity.

No one knows when the first of these squat, swarthy men came out of Siberia to cross the Bering Strait and drift silently across the top of North America. But when the Danish explorer Knud Rasmussen traversed this entire region in the 1920′s, he discovered that the Eskimo dialect he had learned in Green­land was understood along the whole route.The Eskimo’s mobility over so vast an area stemmed largely from three things: the dog, the skin boat, or umiak, and the igloo. At least two waves of Eskimos have come from the west to leave their imprint on the eastern Arctic land. The Thule people, from whom today’s Eskimos descend, planted their culture by A.D. 1000. Before them, the Dorsets dominated the region for some 2,000 years. Archeologists today believe the Dorsets sprang from an earlier culture, known mostly by a few stone remains.

For lack of a better name they call it pre-Dorset

Among all the Eskimos of North America, only those of Canada’s eastern and central Arctic lived in dome-shaped snow igloos. Yet, because they were the Eskimos popularized more than a century ago in books by English and Scottish explorers, their snow-block houses became the enduring hallmark of all polar peoples.