Tomoko Sekiguchi and the Atsu® Method: The Art of Quiet Oil Massage
- Jul 30
- 11 min read

Could you introduce yourself to our readers. Who is Tomoko Sekiguchi, and what has your over 20-year journey as a therapist meant to you?
I am Tomoko Sekiguchi, a therapist from Japan, and I am also devoted to training therapists. I began this work in 2000, and over the past 26 years I have met more than 5,000 therapists as an instructor, both in Japan and abroad.
These two decades and more have been far more than a career to me. Immersing myself in the warm, gentle world of therapy changed the way I live, the way I think, and the way I act, this work has genuinely transformed my life itself. Every encounter with a client, every encounter with a student, has in turn shaped and nurtured me. I believe this is a feeling I can share with therapists all over the world.
You trained across several highly regarded institutions from Queensway Reflexology School to the Anatomy Trains Dissection Class at Kinetikos, to your clinical diploma in Australia. How did this diverse international education shape the therapist, and later the trainer, you became?
These experiences, among them the Diploma of Clinical Aromatherapy I earned in Australia (National Course Code: HLT52315), taught me not so much technique as a way of being a philosophy of what it means to be human. They also became an opportunity to reflect deeply on the beauty of human beings and the joy of being alive.
The Anatomy Trains dissection class, in particular, is something I will never forget. When I touched an actual human body, I understood clearly that the body holds the entire history of the life a person has lived. Their habits of movement, the burdens they carried all of it is inscribed there. And I felt something take root in me through that experience: a willingness to accept every part of it, wholly, without labeling it good or bad. Ever since, I have been able to hold my clients' bodies with far deeper compassion than before.
The more I learned, the more I came to contemplate the beauty of humanity and the preciousness of life itself. And each time I studied outside Japan, I was struck by how high the level was while also coming to feel joy in the realization that this path of learning has no end. In fact, it is precisely that endlessness that I have learned to find joy in.
What does it mean to you to move from practicing the art yourself to passing it on to a new generation of therapists?
For me, training therapists is not only about passing on technique. It is a place for nurturing human beings for facing oneself, cultivating self-worth, and valuing dialogue.
Respecting yourself, and respecting the other person. The attitude you develop through this work reveals itself not only during a treatment, but in the way you live each day.
We live in an age where the bonds between people are growing ever thinner. That is exactly why I want to pass on to the next generation, through the profession of the therapist, a way of living that is calm and respectful of others. It may sound grand, but I truly believe that the accumulation of such individual lives becomes one sure foundation for lasting peace.
The Atsu® Method
You are the creator of Zen Oil Therapy Atsu®, a technique that combines Shiatsu and oil massage. What inspired you to develop your own method rather than working within an existing tradition?
Most of today's oil treatments originated overseas, and many therapists in Japan practice these techniques as well. However, they often involve table heights and ways of moving the body that do not suit the Japanese physique, and as a result, a great many therapists end up injuring their own bodies through their work.
Over the years, I have seen so many people who became therapists full of dreams, only to break down physically and leave the profession or who came to dislike the very work of being a therapist because of the pain it caused their bodies. To me, that is a terrible waste.
That is why I wanted to create a therapy suited to the Japanese body, while preserving the strengths of the world's oil treatments. And by drawing on the spirit of hospitality, the movements, and the bearing that are uniquely Japanese, I aim for a therapy that wraps both the heart and the body of the client in a sense of safety.
Atsu is described as using a unique treatment posture, at times compared to traditional Japanese Budo. Could you walk us through what this posture is, and why the therapist's own body position is so central to the technique?
In my younger years I practiced Kendo and Kyudo (Japanese archery), and later I also studied Aikido. These martial arts form the foundation of Atsu's stance.
In Japanese Budo, releasing tension from the body is valued above all else. Rather than relying on force, we bring the breath and the body's central axis into alignment, so that the therapist can first relax. Just as Aikido generates great power not by overpowering the other person by force, but by becoming one with them, the pressure of Atsu, too, is not a force that pushes down, but a pressure born from the whole body moving as one.
Because of this, the client can receive pressure that is soft and deep stable, yet never forced without ever bracing against it. This pressure and touch act not only upon the body but upon the brain as well, so that Atsu can be understood as a form of Somatic Therapy rather than simply a massage.
And this stance also brings the therapist's own heart into balance. Aligning the breath and the body brings the mind into alignment this, too, is a way of thinking rooted in Zen.
One of the most striking aspects of Atsu® is the idea of applying deep pressure without pain. From a technical standpoint, how is this achieved and why is this balance between depth and comfort so essential to the method?
By using the body in the way I described above, the therapist can release all force from the hands. It is the same principle by which being pressed firmly with a sponge causes no pain. In the Atsu stance, the therapist brings their own skeletal alignment as close as possible to a neutral position down to the direction of the feet, even the fingertips. This releases the tension from the therapist's body and makes truly soft hands possible.
In the world of Japanese Shiatsu, there is an important idea left to us by a man named Shizuto Masunaga. He divided human sensation into two kinds. One is “discriminative sensation” the sensation by which the mind analyzes and judges: painful or not painful, strong or weak. The other is “primal sensation” a more fundamental sensation, like the kind babies and animals possess, in which the body itself feels “yes, this is it” before any words are formed.
We who live in modern society spend most of our lives using only discriminative sensation. But what Atsu seeks to reach is this primal sensation. When applying deep pressure, I adjust the way the pressure is applied, its angle, and its timing, so that before the client's body judges “this hurts” with the mind, it can receive the pressure at a deeper level of sensation as “this is a comfortable depth.” This is precisely why, in Atsu®, depth and comfort are not opposites. Because it is pressure that reaches primal sensation, one can surrender to it in safety, however deep it may be. This is a way of thinking rooted in the traditional Japanese view of the body, and it is this Eastern wisdom that I wish to share with therapists and clients all over the world.
You describe Atsu® as "the art of quiet oil massage," where both client and therapist are deeply in touch with themselves. Could you help our readers understand this philosophy what role does the therapist's own inner state play during a treatment?
In Atsu, I deliberately slow the speed of the oil treatment. This slow, steady stimulation activates the C-tactile fibers, encouraging the release of oxytocin and serotonin, and guiding the body toward the parasympathetic state. Furthermore, as the slow pace and the sustained, steady pressure continue, consciousness is led into an altered state close to that of meditation. In this state, the client is able to become deeply absorbed in their own sensations.
However, to create this state, the therapist's own “assertion” their sense of presence, the imposition of their intention becomes an obstacle. This is precisely why pressure without pain is necessary. It is a sensation not of a point, but of being wrapped in a broad surface; it dissolves the boundary between client and therapist, and makes the very presence of the therapist disappear.
“Making the therapist's presence disappear” may sound like a curious expression. But when you actually receive an Atsu® treatment, depending on the quality of the touch, the therapist's presence truly does fade away. The very sensation of being touched grows faint, and in its place, the client sinks deeply into the sensations of their own body. This is a feeling difficult to convey in words. So one day, I hope you might experience it for yourself.
Through deep breathing and an unforced stance, the therapist's own heartbeat and breath also grow deeper. And as they do, the client relaxes still further, and a resonance arises between the two. This is the heart of what I call “the art of quiet oil massage.”
How does Atsu® draw from the philosophy of Zen, beyond the physical technique itself? Is there a meditative or spiritual dimension you consider inseparable from the practice?
Within the philosophy of Zen there is a word: chuyo. I might render it as the Middle Way a state of balance in which one leans toward neither extreme, takes no side, and receives things flatly, just as they are. It means stepping back, for a moment, from judgments of good or bad, right or wrong, and placing oneself within a quiet equilibrium.
A therapist, I believe, should accept the client as they are, as flatly as possible, without judging them. The strength of one's own values, the assumption that “this surely must be the good way,” can at times become ego. And that can end up being an act not for the other person's sake, but for one's own.
Whatever state a person is in, whatever pain they carry, it is the result of a life they have lived with all their might. To honor and respect that for this, chuyo is indispensable. As a path for practicing this Middle Way, Zen offers the words choshin, chosoku, choshin aligning the body, aligning the breath, and through this, aligning the mind. By bringing these into daily life, I believe one can live with integrity, as a therapist and as a human being.
Since I came to value chuyo, one thing has clearly changed within me. As I touched on earlier, it connects to that experience in the dissection class, where a willingness to accept a person's body wholly first took root in me. To accept a client just as they are, I came to understand, is to believe in the life they have lived without a shred of doubt. This body before me, this state it is proof of a person who has lived with all their might. When I became able to lay my hands with that belief, the treatment grew deeper still.
For therapists reading this who may be unfamiliar with Atsu®, how would you describe what makes it distinct from other Japanese-rooted massage traditions, such as classic Shiatsu?
Classic Shiatsu is a technique of applying pressure to “points” the meridians and tsubo without the use of oil. Atsu inherits the spirit of “intentional pressure” that Shiatsu holds, while combining it with the “unbroken flow” of oil massage. Deep pressure that wraps in a surface rather than a point, a treatment stance rooted in Budo, and a depth that reaches primal sensation so that no pain is felt these are the elements unique to Atsu.
But if I were to name the single greatest difference from other techniques in one phrase, it is not the technique itself. It is that the therapist's own “way of being” how they bring their body and mind into balance, how they receive the client is the very heart of the method. The technique of the hands, I believe, can only stand upon that way of being.
Since creating Atsu®, how has the method evolved as you've continued to practice and teach it? Is it something you consider "finished," or still in continuous refinement?
Atsu is a method that is still evolving even now.
In its earliest days, Atsu was built from a more anatomical and physiological perspective. Tracing carefully along the borders of the bones, working upon the continuity of deep structures such as the deep muscles, the fascia, and the entheses. Using slow, steady pressure that leaves no escape, creating conditions in which the Golgi tendon organs (GTO) can respond, so that excessive muscle tension is naturally released. Achieving depth not through strength, but through body weight, direction, and sustained contact this was the framework of Atsu® as a technique.
However, as I continued this work, a great change began to appear in how clients responded. Clients who had originally carried heavy stress and sought strong stimulation, as they received Atsu® regularly, began instead to show an aversion to the “too-strong pressure” of other salons. And beyond simply feeling brighter in mood, many began to tell me they had reached a calmer, more settled state of mind that they were experiencing the very sensation I call chuyo.
Through these changes, Atsu® is transforming from a mere technique into something that serves a somatic role for people living in a stressful society. And so I do not consider Atsu finished at all; I believe it will keep changing its form, through dialogue with my clients, for a long time to come.
You now train therapists in Japan and internationally. What is the most important quality you look for in a student before they can truly understand and embody Atsu beyond the technical steps?
The thing I value most, for a therapist to grow and to mature, is mind the inner disposition. Understanding the role of the therapist, holding compassion for the client, and carrying oneself with professionalism. What supports all of these, I believe, is the attitude of living each day with care and a sense of purpose.
Japan also has a word: shuhari. First, shu the stage of faithfully guarding the forms and fundamentals taught by one's teacher, repeating them until they soak into the body. Next, ha the stage of building upon those fundamentals while gradually adding one's own insights and individuality, breaking from the form. And finally, ri the stage of becoming free from the form itself, and establishing it as one's own style.
I ask the students who learn Atsu® to value this order as well. It may seem obvious, but engaging with the basics carefully and honestly is precisely the indispensable foundation upon which one's own art will one day come into bloom.
And what I truly hope will be carried forward is, even more than technique, this very “way of living that respects both oneself and others.” For a single therapist to grow is for a calm, gentle way of being to pass, once again, to the next generation. It is with this belief that I nurture people.
Looking ahead, what is your hope for the future of Atsu® both as a technique and as something you continue to pass on to others?
Meeting this work as a therapist gave color to my life.
As a child, my home was by no means a peaceful one, nor an environment where I could feel safe. I could never hold any confidence in myself, and I spent a childhood that was emotionally unstable. That, I think, is why I kept searching, always, for a sense of safety.
But through the work of being a therapist, I was able to come to know, little by little, the kindness of people, the encounters, the joy of learning, and the wonder of the human being myself included.
Somatic therapy, I believe, will be needed all the more in the world to come. For the generation ahead, I hope we can create more opportunities for children to encounter therapy naturally, so that the world may become one where they can live in safety. In Japan, a culture of touch has not yet truly taken root.
And so that therapists themselves may also spend happy time together with their clients, in safety I will continue to devote myself, day by day, so that Atsu® may be of some help toward that end.
Interview collected for our magazine. Special thanks to Tomoko Sekiguchi Atsu® method for her availability and the sincerity with which she shared her vision.



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