4:30 p.m. - 2004-07-18
The thought of doing massage and healing arts has been on my mind for 5 or more years. Its the place I always go back to no matter what shit I've conjured up or walk into. Its a place where I feel comfortable, at peace and myself.
I attended an open house at a massage school on top of the mountain I live at the foot of yesterday. I intended to walk in, get a freebie, and go about my day. I stayed for five hours. I can't describe the feeling of belonging, the glow that being in the right place can bring. I could feel the energy of the place bring my own into focus, after all this time. I thought I was dead on the spiritual side of my being. I thought the ability to transcend daily life in the grind was gone.
My body hummed to life and I felt that all was right in the world. And, no, there were no drugs taken naysayers. No drugs, no vodka (thank God). Just a feeling of rightness and a great sense of relief.
I started the day with a Healing Hands demo during which the healer pinpointed my lower back distress and rebalanced my chakras so that the energy started to flow again. I can't say that I was a believer before, but this was somewhat magical. I'm thinking about setting up a full session with her next week.
Then I was tapped on the shoulder by my yoga teacher. I felt like the prodical daughter having been gone for so long. But it was so good to see her. I missed her demo class earlier in the morning.
I then walked about for a bit, sampling massage techniques, hand waxing and tasting healing teas and herbs. I was having the wax removed when a lady walked into the room and announced a tai chi class. I wandered outside between the pool and the meditation circle and joined in. And left the class with a heavy crush on the teacher.
I guess you could say we had chemistry. You know? Like crush at first site? The longer we worked together the more in tune I felt. And (Six, you will appreciate this) he had the most incredible ass I've ever seen. I'm not into asses, but I could't stop staring at his ass and back muscles. And when he came over to help me through the steps, hands on, I noticed he had the kindest brown eyes.
When he ended the class it was just me and him left. So we chatted a little about he got into Tai Chi, really an incredible story. Then he had to go do scheduled massages upstairs. But he asked if I would come back after the summer break and try out a class. I really want to. I've got to see this guy again.
From there I checked out the tree meditation area, then wandered inside for a Craniosacral therapy demo. I was worked on by three students and a teacher who again pinpointed my back problems. I wasn't even hobbling. Amazing stuff. Afterwards, I ended the tour with a massage bed demo thing. Its a bed with rolling balls that stretch out your spine. I was sitting outside the room waiting when the tai chi guy came up the stairs, and did one of those, looking around like he lost something things. Then the people I was waiting on came out of the room and, being very nervous, I shot straight into the massage table room. I cussed myself out a thousand times for not stopping to talk to him again. I felt like a stupid teenager. But, I'll have to wait fo rtai chi to start next month.
As I was walking out to my car I stopped in my tracks. I turned around, walked into the office and spoke to the office manager about enrolling.
I walked out with an application and feelings of freedom and belonging at the same time. For the first time in years, I have a goal. A plan. A dream. I know exactly what I'm going to do after the debt is paid off. I'm going back to school for massage certification, and then taking continuing classes in other healing arts as they appeal to me.
This is exactly what I was meant to do. It may not pay as well as what I do now, but I will be me, and I will be whole. I will be able to live and be proud of what I do.
And the dream is that one day, when I look back, Corprate America and project management will be a speck on my life. As if it meant nothing. Because, really, what does it mean anyway?