I feel I am in a surreal state, overwhelmed by a sort of suspended animation.

I am seeing, smelling, knowing yet somehow, somehow I am disengaged.

This is an unusual sensation for me: I am the original realist, feet firmly on the ground with no time for daydreaming.  Inattention, while not wrong, is a luxury, nay even an indulgence.

But wait a moment.  I am actually ‘recovering’ from a Massage and just one hour ago I

admitted to Erica, my masseuse at One Steamboat Place, that I saw such treatments as extravagance.
That was when I learned the error of my judgment!

“Well.” She stopped, as though considering how best to correct my misunderstanding.
“ Actually they are far more therapeutic than many people realize.  A massage can improve

 your immune system, or assist recovery from an injury.  A good bodywork session will

relieve tension and stiffness and usually improves circulation and aids the digestion.”

Perhaps it my imagination that she paused at that point and gave my shoulder an extra hard manipulation?

Cocooned under warm covers, I could tell there was more to come….
This was to be intellectual lesson time as well as bodywork time.

As she kneaded, pressed and gently manipulated my muscles with scented oils, Erica warmed to her theme.
“Years ago they discovered that pregnant mothers who received massages, produced babies with higher birth weights. In fact there’s a biblical reference in Esther to a daily massage with olive oil and myrrh as a part of the beauty regimen of the wives of Xerxes.

You know,” she said quietly, “we are not good at receiving.  We are almost programmed to give, to be aware of the ‘other’, but it can be a challenge to relax and become the recipient.”

While the hands worked in rhythmic movements on my back, I thought about these observations.

Touch is perhaps something of a hurdle for a formal English personality, with our ‘stiff upper lip’ mentality and my natural inclination to be conscious of my husband’s mantra “We didn’t build the Empire with wimps!” 

So having a stranger lay hands on me in this way was quite a challenge.

At 11 o’clock this morning, my intention had been to allow any treatment to happen, sort of releasing my physical body to the process while my crazy monkey-mind worked on a grocery shopping list, possible future travel plans and a mental nudge to get a birthday card.

However, from the moment I arrived at the Spa, the welcome was warm and offered with genuine care and consideration of how best to put me at ease. And Erica had ways to distract my brain, starting even before I lay down, with a heated wheat bag on my neck that appeared to induce a soporific trance.

This was the beginning of a revealing, totally enjoyable assault on my senses.

The room, lit only by perfumed candles, was filled with tranquility, a blissful atmosphere created by gentle, caressing music and the aromatic fragrance of rosewood, geranium and cypress.  Whatever was beyond the walls was irrelevant as I was encouraged to centre my focus here within myself. Here I was allowing myself to be treated with kindness and sensitivity.

This would not be my comfort zone at home. Yet, as I relaxed and allowed Jessica to do her therapy, I became aware of a real sense of well-being and I happily gave myself up to these capable, competent hands.

Now hours later, as I lie by the pool in this euphoric state, despite my detached reverie, I am convinced that from hereon,

Massage, and the negative expressions Indulgent and Luxury are words NOT to be included in the same sentence. 

No more shall I think of a Massage as an excess: it is far more positive and beneficial than that

 - It is an opportunity to refresh my reservoir of wellbeing,

 - It is a chance to totally switch off from the frenetic, demanding world outside,

 - It is an occasion to ‘treat’ myself to a healing session that I deserve.