Dear all,
That's it, I'm switching languages for my (huge) international audience.
Giving my first massage class this week end has reminded me why I chose to do that in the first place. The kindness, the intensity, how time flies when you do something you love. Also, I was extremely grateful to be able to show some of what I've learned over the years to others who, quite legitimately, did other things.
That's something that I usually forget. That not everyone knows all the things that have occurred to me these years - about the deepest aspects of massage that go into some of the greatest paradoxes of life. Yes. I know.
Quite logically, today's topic is humility.
Knowing that you don't know is the basis of any meaningful activity, and, of course, a cliché. Yet, the depth of this truth has emerged for me as one of the essential aspects of a good massage. Of course you know some stuff about physiology, about the massage techniques you might use, etc. You might even resort to this rather liquid type of knowledge that is intuition, perception, empathy. But even so, the greatest moments are when, despite all of that, you are free from any conclusion, any will. Just like an athlete who has trained and whose movements become natural, the massage comes out of you and takes its own dimension. You, the massage giver, with your particular story, your thoughts, your taxes, your need to be taken seriously as a professional become a skiff, existing, but meaningless in the vastness of what is now. You become much more silent, spacious. And, as the cautious child watching for the warden to leave the hallway, a certain quality reveals itself, slowly, at first.
Exactly like any meditative activity (the scope is large), it's not necessarily super obvious at the beginning. You clearly try too hard, so the moments of relaxation are coming up, unexpected, here and there. When you learn, you are getting adjusted to the new instructions. You pay attention to where your pressure comes from, how easily your feet rest on the ground, etc. You get irritated, or bored, or impatient. You also discover that not forcing your body is not necessarily easy - especially since forcing yourself is mostly working in other areas of life. It's our default setting. And the more you practice, the better it becomes. Your whole body gets more comfortable, friendlier. The touch - I should write about that too - the touch becomes a home, and the hour and a half that you spend with someone seems to develop its own existence. It gets this childlike flavor of time well spent.
And, the best thing about this, is that it never ends. You never stop learning. You get more familiar, you have more experience, but whenever you pride yourself as an expert, you easily wander away and become less careful, overlooking the unprecedented encounter that is about to happen - and by doing so, miss the opportunity of being with the one who comes to see you - not to be saved, but to be loved.
When did I stop talking about massages?
That's it, I'm switching languages for my (huge) international audience.
Giving my first massage class this week end has reminded me why I chose to do that in the first place. The kindness, the intensity, how time flies when you do something you love. Also, I was extremely grateful to be able to show some of what I've learned over the years to others who, quite legitimately, did other things.
That's something that I usually forget. That not everyone knows all the things that have occurred to me these years - about the deepest aspects of massage that go into some of the greatest paradoxes of life. Yes. I know.
Quite logically, today's topic is humility.
Knowing that you don't know is the basis of any meaningful activity, and, of course, a cliché. Yet, the depth of this truth has emerged for me as one of the essential aspects of a good massage. Of course you know some stuff about physiology, about the massage techniques you might use, etc. You might even resort to this rather liquid type of knowledge that is intuition, perception, empathy. But even so, the greatest moments are when, despite all of that, you are free from any conclusion, any will. Just like an athlete who has trained and whose movements become natural, the massage comes out of you and takes its own dimension. You, the massage giver, with your particular story, your thoughts, your taxes, your need to be taken seriously as a professional become a skiff, existing, but meaningless in the vastness of what is now. You become much more silent, spacious. And, as the cautious child watching for the warden to leave the hallway, a certain quality reveals itself, slowly, at first.
Exactly like any meditative activity (the scope is large), it's not necessarily super obvious at the beginning. You clearly try too hard, so the moments of relaxation are coming up, unexpected, here and there. When you learn, you are getting adjusted to the new instructions. You pay attention to where your pressure comes from, how easily your feet rest on the ground, etc. You get irritated, or bored, or impatient. You also discover that not forcing your body is not necessarily easy - especially since forcing yourself is mostly working in other areas of life. It's our default setting. And the more you practice, the better it becomes. Your whole body gets more comfortable, friendlier. The touch - I should write about that too - the touch becomes a home, and the hour and a half that you spend with someone seems to develop its own existence. It gets this childlike flavor of time well spent.
And, the best thing about this, is that it never ends. You never stop learning. You get more familiar, you have more experience, but whenever you pride yourself as an expert, you easily wander away and become less careful, overlooking the unprecedented encounter that is about to happen - and by doing so, miss the opportunity of being with the one who comes to see you - not to be saved, but to be loved.
When did I stop talking about massages?
This picture was taken in Montserrat, in Spain, with Marta, whose wisdom and tranquility has been an inspiration. The mountain is impressive, unlike anything around. A Sphinx, ready to take off, overlooks the valley.
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