So last night was my first class session of many in my massage therapy training. While not particularly nervous entering the evening, as some admitted to being, I was interested to see what would come out of the woodwork. And a great many things did.
One of the more delightful aspects of the evening was a tall, skinny girl that I sat next to, named Shelly. I knew it was a good idea when I saw she was wearing Earth shoes, and drinking out of a Nalgene bottle that proudly proclaimed “Free Tibet” from a well-worn sticker. She turned out to be a nearly-graduated social work student from Walla Walla, Washington, with a quick wit and sharp intellect. Needless to say, as much as I enjoyed sitting next to her, we may quickly prove to be disruptive after a few more sessions.
The majority of people in the class have had deaths in the family or major accidents in the last five years. While this initially surprised me, it made sense; many of these people had been helped through recovery with a team that included physical therapists, doctors, and massage therapists. Those whose parents had died decided they wanted to do something meaningful with their lives. Probably two-thirds of the class is within 5 years of my age in one direction or another, with the rest being in middle age of some variety. Several confessed love of Jesus during the opening arguments where we all got to introduce ourselves. I immediately had everyone say my last name, and then rambled on incoherently about wanting to set up some sort of a co-op. At least everyone knows I’m a little different.
One of the other gems of the evening was a somewhat perky, somewhat frazzled spirit sitting behind and to my right- Jacey. Now she’s a caution, as my old piano teacher Lil would say. She’s been in the Springs almost a year and doesn’t work, doesn’t have any roommates in her 3 bedroom apartment, and doesn’t have any friends. She has a dog, and she’s from Sandusky. [Side note- I always have a special place in my heart who call the land of Cedar Point home. For further information, feel free to contact me for arduously long explanations.] She was a special education teacher for two years, each during which she had a mental breakdown. And I think it made her night that I introduced myself and told her I wanted to be friends. The girl is hilarious. I think in the same way that she might drive 95% percent of the world (and our class) nuts, I find myself amused, in a sort of benevolent way. She seems like someone put her brain in a microwave and then forgot to take it out- just a little over the edge all the way down the line. But she told me at the end of the night that she couldn’t wait to go email her mom and tell her she met me- a compliment I am not often paid. Now that I think of it, I don’t think this has ever been the case. It promises to be the start of a beautiful friendship.
Well, my people, I am going to rest my little head in my little bed. Lattes at six, and five comes too early. Life is good, though. Peace on, my brothers and sisters.
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Sidenote- As I sat posting this in C&T Zone, I was reminded by the oldies station how incredibly powerful the song "The Boxer" is, by Simon & Garfunkel. If you haven't listened to this recently, do it soon, and feel all your cells jump around in a frenzy.
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