Remember this time last year when my trip to Japon was suddenly and unexpectdedly cancelled? And remember how I immediately resorted to a Plan B to go to Paris instead? (you probably don't remember, but trust me, this is what happened) Well this post has nothing to do with that, or maybe it does?
Yesterday I treated myself to a Japonais massage on the Isle Saint Louis in Paris. I wasn't expecting to, but I passed this little gem of a place on my walk home. As I stopped in front of the window admiring the traditional and simplistic Japonais decor I was met with a smile from the man behind the counter inside. Not seeing a lot of smiling lately, I immediately went inside.
The smell of brown rice green tea, soft Japonais musique playing, and Emanuel (the man with the kind smile) made me think that I had FINALLY found my people.
I inquired about prices, techniques, massage styles and scheduling. Next thing you know, I had signed up for the next massage opening an hour later. With an hour to kill and a hungry stomach, it was recommended that I go to a "fantastique" Italian restaurant for a light meal. Done and Done.
When I returned, I didn't know what to expect for so many reasons. Had I planned to receive a Japonais massage in the states I would have had some wonder, sure. But in French? In a country who is not know for its healing arts? With a Japonaise masseuse who only speaks Japonais and French? Perhaps for the first time in my massage-getting journey, I was void of any expectations/demands at all.
Yuka was my masseuse and she smiled more in that hour and a half than I had experienced in the past three months. Ahhh! Normally I would be very vocal during a massage, pointing out troubled areas, asking for more pressure here and working out tension there. This is probably because of my belief that it must hurt a little in order to be "productive".
I see this belief rearing its head in all aspects of my life, with my work, with my French learning, with my exercise regime, etc. Yet, during this massage I allowed it to just be, in all of its gentle and soft goodness. Lo and behold, what do you know? I found it to be more "productive" and effective in ways that I couldn't have foreseen.
I was surrounded by gentleness.
I felt safe.
I was relaxed.
I was able to reflect.
I was able to let go.
I was happily enjoying a day of solitude.
I was able to marinade in the energy of my self-created perfect day.
When's the last time I reaped these benefits from some hard and maybe even a little painful pressure?
Exactly.
Yesterday I treated myself to a Japonais massage on the Isle Saint Louis in Paris. I wasn't expecting to, but I passed this little gem of a place on my walk home. As I stopped in front of the window admiring the traditional and simplistic Japonais decor I was met with a smile from the man behind the counter inside. Not seeing a lot of smiling lately, I immediately went inside.
The smell of brown rice green tea, soft Japonais musique playing, and Emanuel (the man with the kind smile) made me think that I had FINALLY found my people.
I inquired about prices, techniques, massage styles and scheduling. Next thing you know, I had signed up for the next massage opening an hour later. With an hour to kill and a hungry stomach, it was recommended that I go to a "fantastique" Italian restaurant for a light meal. Done and Done.
When I returned, I didn't know what to expect for so many reasons. Had I planned to receive a Japonais massage in the states I would have had some wonder, sure. But in French? In a country who is not know for its healing arts? With a Japonaise masseuse who only speaks Japonais and French? Perhaps for the first time in my massage-getting journey, I was void of any expectations/demands at all.
Yuka was my masseuse and she smiled more in that hour and a half than I had experienced in the past three months. Ahhh! Normally I would be very vocal during a massage, pointing out troubled areas, asking for more pressure here and working out tension there. This is probably because of my belief that it must hurt a little in order to be "productive".
I see this belief rearing its head in all aspects of my life, with my work, with my French learning, with my exercise regime, etc. Yet, during this massage I allowed it to just be, in all of its gentle and soft goodness. Lo and behold, what do you know? I found it to be more "productive" and effective in ways that I couldn't have foreseen.
I was surrounded by gentleness.
I felt safe.
I was relaxed.
I was able to reflect.
I was able to let go.
I was happily enjoying a day of solitude.
I was able to marinade in the energy of my self-created perfect day.
When's the last time I reaped these benefits from some hard and maybe even a little painful pressure?
Exactly.
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