That morning I had planned to head into a shamanistic brain center to expedite this healing process.
As I write, I’m not even surprised things turned out the way they did.
The practice was closed, like permanently. The business was gone and the building for rent.
I had no other plans for the day so wondered what to do with myself.
I cruised around, grabbed a bite and started walking.
A big black building with the word “Tattoo” caught my eye first; and right next door “Woman’s Massage.”
Awesome! Anything pertaining specifically to being a woman catches my eye. Maybe later, no need for a massage right now.
“Go in there now.”
Having no other responsibilities on this trip, that is one of the deals I made with myself. Follow that voice.
I was in the lobby at the front desk before I registered that this was one of the places I had read about and decided against on the flight over.
“Women’s Massage by ex-prisoners” trying to assimilate.
At that point I already had my poker face on so any deviating from the original plan was out of the question.
Fear was freely floating through my emotions like a feather lightly kissing here and there looking for a gust of wind to blow it in. Not the “save your life” kind of fear, the other one.
I had everything with me. All of my cash, my visa, passport, camera. All of it.
“You pay now,” was all the receptionist said to me.
I paid and a beautiful Thai woman came out to start our massage.
As she washed my feet I wondered how she kept her hair so shiny.
I noticed a scar on the side of her face, right beside her eyebrow. She covered it with make up. It wasn’t the clean cut type of scars I have all over my face. Not a burn. That’s all the thought I put into it because we were now heading into the back.
She handed me the basket I was to put all my belongings in.
I changed and did and layed down and closed my eyes.
Immediately I put up my gold and white energy bubble. I intentionally kept her in it.
My heart hurt and my soul felt defeated.
Neither of us could understand each other but all I kept thinking was, “it’s ok, you will be fine.” A mantra that could summarize years of my life, it didn’t feel like it was for me.
I wanted to hug her but was worried about my things all at the same time.
Her touch was pleasant but uninvested.
I let my mind wander.
What crime had this beautiful woman committed?
What crimes are punishable by imprisonment in Thailand?
I checked in on my bubble and realizing we were all good started defending my masseuse in my own head.
Any crime you threw at me I had follow up for.
What did he do to you?
It was a woman...
Who hurt her to make her hurt you in a way you had to do what you did?
Were you starving?
Was your child?
Why were you in need?
Who did what to make you need that escape?
I was running through scenarios from Orange Is The New Black in my head and there was not one that made me want to defend this woman any less.
So then I asked myself, “what are the unforgivable crimes?”
Ok, what if she killed a child? Her child?
And before I could finish my thought I was wondering,
did you have post pardon depression?
What would have happened to that child if you didn’t do what you did?
I’m telling you,
in my head,
I could only be this woman’s advocate,
there was no other way.
At that point I checked in with my body and the massage.
Her touch had changed.
It felt nurturing,
like a big sister
or a best friend.
She was teasing me.
We were playing!
Our language barrier became our amusement.
The massage ended and I was left sipping my tea speechless as she walked out of my life.
I wonder if she knew the powerful message I had received.