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The time I got a massage from a prisoner in Thailand

Woman’s madsage

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.”
“Ok.”

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.

Murder?

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?

Theft?

Were you starving?
Was your child?
Why were you in need?

Drugs?

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.