Musings on Massage

It is with trepidation that I recently turned to massage therapy to help resolve some knee and back issues. Until recently, I had not had good experiences with these practices but I am now becoming a convert. I have finally found someone who knows what he is about and is passionate about his work. Massage sessions both this past Sunday and the Sunday before resulted in such a combination of euphoria and fatigue that I felt compelled to write about the experience.

Lying face down on a table under a sheet.
Drifting under light sail, not yet exposed to the elemental forces to come.

Lightly at first, his hands like a breeze rustle the gossamer cloth, probing the aging rigging, creating ripples on the stillness of my skin.

His hands strengthen like the trade wind before a storm. I feel him following the routes of my past lives. I’m looking outwards from within as he finds the ragged moorings that are reluctant to yield to the brewing storm’s force. A life time of protections revealed as tight muscles and fascia holding on to their well worn truths.

Fibers shout out in resistance. I feel their anguish as they are invited to yield to a new reality. My body strains at its moorings, the relentless wind searches to free the vessel.
For a brief time the age long patterns of past realities yield to this new liberating wind

Lying in the hold of my own vessel, I weathered the storm, wind swept, adrift from past realities, in a bliss of disconnection. My body, tired and battered tastes a new reality.