Issue 22: The Next Chapter — Adler Clinic Newsletter

In this issue:

Dear Patients,

I have some news.

Years ago, I was called in to support a man who was dying of cancer.

I worked with him for about two months. At first, we did a great deal of acupuncture and shiatsu to help manage his symptoms and provide some relief from his pain. I suspect his family had called me hoping for some sort of miracle that would restore him to full health.

What I quickly realised, however, was that my role was not to cure him.

It was to help him prepare for the end of his life, and for the transition through death.

We began talking a great deal. Not in a formal psychological sense, as I was not trained in that way, but simply as two human beings meeting one another honestly. He told me about his family, his work, his life, his regrets, his joys, and his disappointments. I shared stories about my children, my own life, and its joys and challenges.

It was not oversharing.

It was connection.

• • •

Of course, I continued providing shiatsu. Acupuncture was no longer necessary, but compassionate touch felt like a natural and important part of the process. I also chanted Buddhist mantras, Hebrew psalms, as he was Jewish, and African rhythms I had learned when I was young.

One day I arrived for our appointment and his wife rushed to the door.

"It's wonderful!" she said. "He's awake and recovering! He's eating!"

I went in and we had our session. He was animated and clear-minded, but he also seemed somehow wiser and more determined, as though he knew there were things he needed to reconcile and complete, and that his time was limited.

I remember laughing as his family scolded him for eating cheese puffs, his favourite snack.

My feeling was simple: the man had cancer. Let him eat whatever he wanted.

I left that session and only later realised what I had witnessed. It is sometimes referred to as "the surge," or terminal lucidity: a final flush of energy in the body and mind before death. I had learned about this from a biomedical perspective, and also through Traditional East Asian Medicine, where it may be understood as part of the separation and dissolution of yin and yang before the death of the physical form.

• • •

The following week I arrived for what would be our final session.

It was clear to me that death was imminent. He could still hear me and remained aware of my presence and touch. I sat with him for a long time, gently holding his hands, feet, and head. I chanted and spoke to him, affirming that it was all right for him to leave, that it was his time, and that he could let go.

I told him he had served his family, community, and life well. I assured him that I was there with him and that it was my privilege to accompany him during this final transition. I told him I would continue chanting for him after he was gone.

I had to trust that these were the right things to do.

As I left, I told his wife and son that they should stay with him and not leave his side. About an hour later, his wife called to tell me he had died.

That experience had a profound impact on me. I did not fully understand it at the time, but a seed was planted that has now come to fruition.

In September 2026, I will begin master's-level studies at Emmanuel College at the University of Toronto, with a focus on spiritual care, meaning, suffering, and human transformation.

The purpose of this next chapter is multifaceted.

I am seeking deeper training and understanding in matters of spirituality, suffering, grief, crisis, and transition. I want to deepen the quality of the work I offer, and expand my ability to support people through some of life's most challenging passages.

Over the past several years, my practice has evolved considerably. I still enjoy treating the physical, mental, and emotional concerns that come with living in a human body. That work remains meaningful to me.

But I have become increasingly interested in what one Shiatsu master once described as "treating the soul."

I realise that phrase may sound grandiose, perhaps even a little pretentious. But what I have come to value most in my work is not simply my technical skill. It is the ability to connect deeply with people and their suffering, and to create a space that is open, compassionate, and intimate enough for healing and transformation to occur.

At the moment, I do this through skilled technique, herbal medicine, and attentive touch. But what continues to call me most strongly is supporting people as they navigate crisis, loss, illness, grief, uncertainty, and major life transitions.

I have felt for some time that this is the work I am best suited to. I have also felt that I needed more formal training, structure, and professional grounding to offer it with the integrity it deserves.

When I discovered this program, I felt delighted.

It offers a way to bring together my 26 years of healing arts experience with deeper study in spiritual care. My long-term goal is to offer chaplaincy and spiritual support to people facing serious illness, end-of-life challenges, or other profound life crises, whether in hospitals, hospices, or perhaps even within the prison system.

Time will tell where this path leads.

There is also a practical reason for this transition. Shiatsu is physically demanding work. I have been fortunate to have a fulfilling career for the past 26 years, and I hope to continue for many years to come. But I also know that I cannot provide body treatments in the same way forever.

As a colleague once put it, I need to "bulletproof my career trajectory."

This path will allow me to continue serving others as I grow older, while remaining true to the part of the work that has always felt most meaningful: being present with people in an honest, compassionate, and useful way.

So what does this mean for you?

I will be completing the program part-time while keeping my practice open and continuing to offer treatments. The details are still being finalised, but the current plan is to offer approximately six treatment sessions per week. These will include shiatsu, acupuncture, and herbal medicine consultations.

This arrangement will likely continue for the next three to four years while I complete my studies.

You may also notice a gradual shift in the nature of my work. Increasingly, I will be focusing on supporting people through periods of crisis, change, illness, grief, and personal transformation. If your primary concern is straightforward musculoskeletal pain, I may occasionally recommend another practitioner whose focus is more specifically on physical treatment.

For those of you who have entrusted me with your care over the years, I want to express my sincere gratitude. It has been a privilege to accompany you through your challenges, healing, and growth. I am excited about this next chapter, and I look forward to continuing our work together in new and meaningful ways.

This is not a withdrawal from care.

It is an evolution of it.

Warmly,

Daniel (T’agyol) Adler

P.S. I will continue writing this newsletter as this next chapter unfolds. I look forward to sharing some of what I am learning, what I am finding meaningful, and how this study continues to shape the way I understand care, healing, and the work we do together.