Things Reveal Themselves
Earlier today I completed a 60 minute massage treatment, washed hands, chatted with the client, collected the payment, replaced the linens, shut the music, turned off the lights, stepped out and locked the door of the Breathe Spa, where I am employed as a massage therapist.
It was the same routine as always, except this time I didn’t know when I would be back. We at Breathe have been hoping against hope and holding off as long as we could, but as of this Monday we are closed until further notice.
Walking home and feeling like the Hollow Man sculpture, I was thinking that its creator Bruno Catalano was probably even worse off – in his country the quarantine is total.
The irony is that we are closing just as people need us the most. Disoriented and stressed, deprived of much of the human contact and physical activity, our clients could really benefit from what we do, but they are afraid to book, and we can’t accept them. Closing was of course the right thing to do. Civic duty, the health and safety of our clients, as well as our own, dictate that.
“Things reveal themselves in passing” said William Butler Yeats. In the coming days and weeks we’ll all learn how right he was and what our friends, our neighbours, our office mates, our workout buddies and massage therapists really meant for us.
Like most therapists, I am passionate about my work. It gives me a real rush to figure out the muscles and joints in your body that need work, to stretch that fascia, to friction out that fibrosis, to get that lymph flowing, to reduce the pain. Our hands are trained to think. They are for making you feel better, not for rubbing doorknobs with wipes.
How does it make sense that some evil tiny ball smaller than a spec of dust would take it all away? It doesn't and it won't. We, of course will win this fight, no doubt about that. The only question is at what cost. We'll see. Stay healthy and safe, friends.