I’ve finally made it to the gift of the three sessions. I’ve done the hard yards and here is the time for reward!
Two hours of sitting in the lap of love is how it was described to me and boy I was ready to sit in the lap of love. I’ve missed being in love and I’ve missed being loved. I was really looking forward to feeling love for someone for no other reason other than that they were caring for me through massage. Or so I thought.
In the reading Lynette recommended I see Elena at Sydney Kahuna. Elena was lovely and the centre has a really great feel about it – a freshness, despite it’s age and creaking floorboards.
But I didn’t like the massage.
Kahuna isn’t like standard massages. It isn’t just oh you have a knot here let’s work that out, you’re a bit tight there let’s loosen you up.
It began with a discussion and setting an intention for the session. Mine was to embed life without all my surrogacies. To own my own energy.
I pulled a card from a suspiciously tarot like deck which revealed the word – Now. On the back it said a few lines about being present in the present and revelling in the fleeting nature of it. The card was put on the floor where I could see it when I was face down on the massage table.
I was asked to remove all my clothes, knickers included, and jump on the bed under the sarong. There was no cloth on the table and it was a hot day, so I stuck to the vinyl a bit. Yuck.
It begins with Elena chanting – never my favourite thing in the world – and circling my body pressing points in my legs and arms, which was lovely. How the simplicity of human touch can feel so good.
Gradually the sarong that was over the top of me was folded up into a triangle that sat between my legs, covering my bits. The folding of the sarong reminded me of how in movies when a soldier is being buried the flag is folded into a triangle and laid atop the coffin.
Unlike other massages perhaps, Kahuna is done completely naked. Sure you have the folded up sarong strategically positioned to cover your lady bits but the sense of being naked is really strong. Perhaps exposed is a better word to describe it.
The window and its blinds were open with daylight streaming in which probably didn’t help with the feeling of exposure. We ladies love the flattery of a candle or two.
It probably also didn’t help that I was concerned for my back. I had an injury a little while ago that causes daily discomfort. My concern was this massage might exacerbate an already tenuous issue. And while she was aware of the issue, I knew if it was only mild discomfort I wouldn’t speak up during the actual massage. As we discovered in Breathwork, I have difficulty speaking my truth.
I actually can’t say what I didn’t like about the session. If we were to break it down, I liked all the bits. I just didn’t like the overwhelming sense of intimacy. There were times when I thought she might flip me over and kiss me with an open mouth.
And times I thought, what the hell – I’ll kiss her back. But don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t sexy intimate. It was love intimate. It was security intimate and acceptance intimate.
It plays on my mind that I didn’t like how intimate it was and what that might be telling me.
After the massage, I told her it was amazing and by all rights it was. I was just emotionally uncomfortable. She poured a lot of herself into 2 hours of massaging, dancing around the table, blowing hums into my back so I’d feel vibrations, working on me with the full length of her arms not just her hands, breathing in weird ways, chanting, smudging incense over me, not to mention connecting to a stranger as part of their therapy – I didn’t want her to feel she’d wasted two hours of her day.
But then, there it is again! I didn’t speak my truth. Goddammit, this truth thing is harder than it seems. The monks might have something you know, going all silent retreat on the world.
We talked about Lynette’s advice to have the second massage with a male. I really can’t imagine experiencing all that with a man I’m not intimate with. Time shall tell.
Next week I’m spending a week in solitude in a cabin on the south coast of NSW. Taking time out to reflect on all that has been this week.
And then after that? The second cycle.