I found a stupid hat on the floor in town the
other day. I washed it. I dried it (much harder work, in this climate) and now
I’m wearing it. It remains stupid. It’s more of a head bag than a piece of
haute couture, but it pleases me. I haven’t worn it out yet; just in my room. I
look at myself and think ‘no, that’s stupid.’ And then I keep it on.
I also have a hat that isn’t stupid, also found
on the floor (halfway up a mountainette on Isla del Sol). I don’t like it. I
don’t even wear it in the ‘house’ (I live in a little room with a bed and a
desk and a shelving unit. It’s not really a house. I love it). I put it on and
I think ‘no, that’s a tourist hat without anything to recommend it’ and I take
it off again. I haven’t given it away yet, though. I imagine myself toiling in
a field under the beating, burning sun, grateful for the arse of a tourist hat,
or without one, going to buy another to replace it and finding I have to pay an
arse of a tourist price for an arse of a tourist hat that I’m going to get no
joy out of, so I might as well keep this one.
The stupid hat would be no help in the sun. It’s
thick woven cotton and it’s shaped like a clumsy bag. There’s no brim. It would
just make your head hotter. In the cold, though, it’d only just take the edge
off. It’s slightly too big for my head, so it reduces my peripheral vision
(which always leaves me a bit confused unless it’s done by a bike helmet, and
then its practicality overrules the confusion, meaning the confusion is almost
certainly made up/psychosomatic). It’s a stupid hat.
Hats aside, I was thinking today about the
strange intimacy of the work I’m doing at the moment. I meet strangers. Within
sixty seconds, they’re down to their knickers and lying face down, usually with
their eyes closed, waiting for me to put my hands on them. They tell me the
things I need to know (if I ask them) and then they give me their trust and let
me move my hands over them. I am genuinely honoured at the level of trust.
And I am trustworthy, which is good. In fact, I
make it a main focus to make sure people feel that very strongly, and feel safe
and respected while they’re with me. I keep confidences and I use touch with
the deepest love and with absolute disconnection from sexual energy. There’s
nurture by the fuckload (ha - I enjoyed writing that) but no drive.
For years, I’ve said ‘if I did this all day
every day, I’d be bored rigid’ but I think I was wrong. Perhaps if there was
nothing else I could do, that would be true, and of course I always do SOMETHING
other than massage (yoga at the moment, but other stuff too). But so far, I’m
finding it fascinating. The differences and similarities; the fact that every
body is different and unique and that however different they are, there are so
many things that are true of most of them, even though there’s no such thing as
a steadfast rule. Pliability, musculature, bone shapes, skin, sensitivity,
shape, size and solidness of ribcage, balance/symmetry and imbalance,
breathing, not breathing, ease with receiving, trying to help, surrendering,
emotion, body (dis-)connectedness, openness, fears, energy, so, so, so much
more. And I’m genuinely not judging - it makes no sense - just noticing.
Personality too, that comes through our brief conversations and a whole load of
other stuff. I am really loving this work.
And the yoga teaching too. Both seem like they
ought to be repetitive, and they are in a way, but they’re so fascinating too.
And what a gift when I get to do massage and yoga with the same people! I can
design classes that work the bits that need working and complement the bodywork
and energy work we’re doing. God, I’m grateful. So grateful, in fact, and so
pleased with it, that I’m staying another week. I’ve paid my board until the
end of next week, so anything I make this coming week is surplus - for food and
whatever I need. And that, to my delight, feels like a bonus. No, I wouldn’t
feel as good about doing so many massages if I wasn’t getting paid, but I would
do some and currently, the money feels secondary. It’s a motivator, but one
that I often forget about. And look at me, with all my qualifications, academic
degrees, studies in this and that. I’m working with my hands and my voice and
my energy and I’m absolutely loving it. In this moment.
Thanks - I had a go one one Ruth, and wrote to
the other. I had a big old faceful of beautiful Kath, a smattering of Rob, a
taste of Eddie and nublets of Dan, Aude, Paddy, Steen and lots of others. God,
I’ve got it good, me.
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