Conversation without Words

Last summer, I rode a big red bus from Mexico City into the mountains of Oaxaca. One calm, skillful driver, one foot from the edge of a cliff, and a busload of strangers quietly rethinking our life choices. It was the scariest and most beautiful ride I've ever taken.

I was starting my journey to Chichicapam, a small remote village within the state of Oaxaca, for my first chiropractic mission trip to meet a group of doctors and student doctors. Somewhere on that long ride, I drilled the Spanish phrases a fellow student had put together so we could communicate with local patients: "Hola, ¿cómo está? ¿Cómo te sientes? ¿Dónde duele?" Simple words for a service that, I would soon learn, doesn't actually run on words at all.

After seven hours, I finally arrived at the Oaxaca airport to meet the fellow chiropractors whom I would be serving alongside on the mission trip. Instead of the usual chaos of airports, we did something I still can't picture happening at JFK: we sat in the grass with our travel tables, trading adjustments while we waited for the rest of the group to arrive. Only in Mexico!

The last stretch to Chichicapam was its own kind of joy: a loud, bumpy bus full of laughter, new friends, and the electricity of knowing something meaningful was about to happen. In town, the days moved to a rhythm I wasn't used to. Announcements crackled over a loudspeaker every morning and evening, and word of the visiting chiropractors spread slowly, person to person. Whispers among the village people that the strange new people that called themselves "quiroprácticas" are in town.

The first person I served was a señorita in the most beautiful traditional dress woven with blues and reds, and a body that had clearly lived a whole life. Many of the women I adjusted, some in their 70s and 80s, had never received bodywork before. Their systems felt different from what I was used to in the States. Tough. Guarded. Hardworking. Unspoken. Earning that first bit of trust, and helping their nervous systems finally exhale, was humbling in a way I didn't expect.

Somewhere between my broken Spanish and a lot of hand gestures, laughter became the language we spoke. Without the words I usually lean on as a chiropractor, I found a version of chiropractic I hadn't met before, one built on deep listening to the the subtle shifts under my hands, deep rooted tension patterns, temperature, and stories of a life lived. A conversation that needs no translation.

The days were long and hot. As soon as one patient got off the table, another was waiting. Many receiving their first adjustment under the Mexican sun, steps from a busy mercado serving agua fresca, tacos, tlayudas, and local fruits and vegetables.

It was a different rhythm from how we practice in the States, where patient history and words shape so much of care. Your story still matters and helps guide your care. But once you're on the table, the real healing often begins when both of our minds quiet down enough to trust what your body is already telling us.

That's the chiropractic I want to bring to Flower of Life, and it's the same intentional care I already see here. I'm so happy to join this family!

As a nervous system based chiropractor, I love helping bodies remember how to heal. I can't wait to meet you, hear your story, and be part of your journey.

In health and vitality,

Dr. Justyna