Hosanna to the bennies of therapeutic massage

In the late summer last year, my buddy Glen on the golf league was raving about this spectacular rubdown he'd got from a masseuse over the weekend:  "Man, I was like drooling," he said.  A friend had given him a gift certificate at a local upscale health spa and he'd received his first-ever legitimate, whole body, professional massage… as distinct from the "other kind."

(Not that the other kind doesn't have its place among the healing arts, but its benefits tend to be more isolated and ephemeral.  And, sadly, outside of Nevada, technically illegal.)

Massage (ma sazh´), also called massology, is the systematic manual or mechanical manipulations of the soft tissues of the body by such movements as rubbing, kneading, pressing, rolling, slapping and tapping for the purpose of promoting circulation of the blood and lymph, relaxation of muscles, relief from pain, restoration of metabolic balance, and other benefits both physical and mental.

Artifacts have been found in many countries to support the belief that in prehistoric times, men and women massaged their muscles and rubbed herbs, oils and various substances on their bodies as healing and protective agents.  According to research reports, in nearly all ancient cultures, some form of touch or massage was practiced.  In many groups, a special person, such as a healer, religious leader, or doctor was selected to administer healing power.  These ancient civilizations used therapeutic massage not only as a pain reliever, but also to improve their sense of well being and their physical appearance.

— Desert Springs Massage

With Glen carrying on about his experience, I retrospected:  It had been close to 15 years since Carol's firm but gentle hands worked out sundry pains and energy blocks, setting me back on the street with an easy gait and a positive mental attitude.

In the late 1980s, cross-gender massage, especially a woman doing a man, was still in its infancy, at least in blue-collar, leisure-challenged SE Michigan and the Motor City.  The preceding '60s and '70s had loosened us up about sex and our bodies.  However, real social change occurs glacially.  I told very few people about visiting a masseuse in those thirty-something years, especially not my male friends.

"Yeah, uh huh, sure you're not getting your bean snapped over there."

Well, I wasn't.

When you're face up—dress mode for massage is skivvies; you lie on a table under sheet/blanket, which the masseuse moves out of the way as she works your limbs and trunk areas—and a woman is rubbing your upper thigh with oil, sometimes, candidly, a guy'll get a puffy.  But then she'll move to rub out some big painful knot, and you realize why it's called massage therapy.  Real massage is not a dalliance on the Love Boat.

From my casual-user perspective, the process of real massage is a big-muscle kneading operation that relieves tension then releases its chemical byproducts into the bloodstream, particularly for areas in a muscle group that have tightened into a knot, call it a "clump."  (Remember those rubber-band, balsa-wood airplanes we used to wind up and let fly?  Clumps look like the wound-up rubber bands.)

People who have never had massage, or have not had massage for a long time, normally have lots of clumps.  Clumps restrict motion, impede the free flow of energy, and often cause pain.  Widespread body tension becomes a form of pain, the difference being the sufferer has gotten used to it—it hurts but they don't really feel it.  The vast majority of Americans have accepted "pervasive clumpiness" as a fact of life.

It doesn't have to be this way.

When I started massage in the 80s, I felt more comfortable with a woman touching my body rather than a man.  (Possibly a hangup, but I'll live with it.)  However, most masseuses do not have the physical strength of masseurs, so it can become quite a chore for these women to go deep into the musculature, especially if a man has toned muscles.  My Carol stopped doing men, because too many "Arnolds" were wearing her down.

When she stopped, I was very sad, because we had developed a unique spiritual connection that didn't require words.  In 15 years, I never found anyone to replace her.  Maybe it was time to try again.  So I asked Glen to give me his masseuse's card, and I made an appointment with the spa.

Before my appointment, I received a call on my cellphone from someone named Molly.  She cheerfully informed me that Glen's masseuse was no longer working for the spa, and she, Molly, had been asked to take the clients.

"Is that all right?"  (She sounded as if she were actually looking forward to it.)

"Sure."

I'd just finished reading the new age spiritualist work The Celestine Prophecy, by James Redfield.  One of the most interesting ideas from the book is what we learn from our subconscious in dreams (in combination with our awareness of key events in our lives) can signal a path to take in our lives.  He writes of the importance of being open to "meaningful coincidences."

Well, Molly(1)—who took over for another masseuse, who was used by a friend of mine, who happened to be in my golf league and talked about it one afternoon, at the exact time I was present to hear it, also at a point I was receptive to returning to therapy—turned out to be one of these meaningful coincidences.  Furthering the coincidence, she bore an uncanny resemblance to a woman with whom I was hopelessly infatuated at the time.

Molly's natural beauty, coupled with her wonderfully benevolent sense of life, helped to dispel these unrequited cravings—not a bad description of infatuation, eh?—of mine during the course of our sessions.  Not by transference (married), rather by helping me to develop my own natural energy sources.  Thus I became able to lose the desire or need to draw down anyone else's energy field.  False needs, addictions to people or things, faded away.

Such "escapes from addiction" are a reasonable expectation for anyone taking long, periodic rides on the massage table.  You don't need the perfect masseuse for that either, Molly is simply my own personal icing on the cake.  Anyone undergoing psychotherapy benefits from massage therapy.  And vice versa.  The mind has a body and the body has a mind.  Both respond to the magic of touch.

In a major metropolitan area, a 60-minute session at a spa or health club will cost $50-$100; I recommend 90-minute sessions every other week if you can afford it.

I'm 55 this year.  Because of massage, I have never felt more psychologically complete, mentally alert, physically fit, or productive and creative.  It feels like a solar power plant has been implanted in my center.  Tension and anxiety have evaporated.  And my particular negative tendency, a diffuse, uncontrolled rage at political reality and human ignorance, has largely been turned to a constructive, positive flow of work.

Mainly, I would like to encourage other American men to go ahead and indulge themselves in the "massological experience."  Men need it most.  I'll wager if 50% of the adult male population in this country gets regular massage, the US will be a free society in less than a decade.(2)  They will also please women more.  Which in turn makes men happier, etc., etc.—an extraordinary positive feedback loop.

The American Puritan Ethic (APE) has worked its ravages insidiously over the years, to the point if a man takes the time to feel good, he can hear the voice of a vengeful patriarchal God booming down at him, "How dare you seek pleasure when all these other guys are toughing it out over there in the salt mine.  You have work to do, Bubba.  Grief to bear.  Not to mention all those honeydo's.  No time for expensive, pantywaist frills, ya big PUSSY!"

Well, my brothers (and more of my sisters, too), let me tell you, it's time to flip off the ol' APE… in a highly positive fashion to be sure.  Guilt is a rope that wears thin after centuries of pain.  Break the bindings, take the road less traveled.  In a giant step for mankind, one person at a time, climb out of the world of the walking wounded and begin to put some real joy in your lives by the caring, healing, professional laying on of hands.