The Twenty Seventh of February

Faces...

Lately I've been trying to pay attention to my face...intentionally trying to smile more. I keep seeing a friend of mine who is a great deal of pain with his back. He smiles and tries to be his usual self, but when he goes back inside himself, when he thinks no one is looking, there is this look that says so much about the pain. His face goes slack, and he breathes through his mouth. And his eyes tell his story. Healthy all of his life, this is his first serious experience with chronic pain/illness. His suffering is silent and stoic.

Our facial expressions say much about our lives. The frown lines between my eyebrows make me look angry...even when I am far from angry. So I try to raise my eyebrows to smooth out the wrinkle. But I think that I only succeed in then looking surprised...rather than happy or pleasant. I know someone whose face shows everything she is thinking! When she is listening to something she disagrees with, her face shouts it! Still another smiles, her goal is happiness. And yet there is something missing in the smile. She tends to deny suffering...especially her own. And her smile, though sweet and lovely, shows there is something incomplete.

I wonder why I am thinking about faces tonight. Probably because we practiced facial massage yesterday at school. The woman who was my client has such smooth skin. No wrinkles. Most of my wrinkles are on my forehead. I wish I had more crow's feet. I do laugh a lot. But I've probably wept more over the years. I love wrinkles and laugh lines. I love to get to know the person behind the face. Is he caring or arrogant? Is she someone who has suffered deeply, or has life been pretty easy thus far? She is young, her skin smooth and beautiful. But her eyes hold something deeper than when I first glanced at her.

Deeper stories are emerging at school. This one had surgery. That one has a father who is ill. Another lost a loved one recently.

Today we did this strange Swedish stuff that is called vibration, which is supposed to have the deepest effect of any of the strokes. Yet several of us really did not much like giving or receiving it. Interestingly enough. Someone said they felt like their body was blubber, when it was being jostled. So then one of the instructors talked about how she diffuses negative self talk about one's body. And she said "All bodies are beautiful." I teared up. And then the other instructor jumped up and down and called out "WE ARE BEAUTIFUL!!!" And most of us cheered, and some of us clapped. And my tears flowed a bit more freely. I am certain they know just how deeply women in our society struggle with body image.

It seems that I feel like the special education kid when it comes to my body. The academic part of school feels doable and enjoyable. The physical feels...well, rather like Mt. Everest. Being present in my body has always been challenging. And going to massage therapy school is probably fifty one percent about healing my relationship with my body, and 49 percent about using the gift to help others. By the end, that percentage will shift I am certain. This week I've been having some body memories. The main feeling that accompanies them, is fear. I feel afraid and sad, and a little sick to my stomach. And so I push on to be as present as I can be to the learning, the work, the people, this life. But I am the kid who is always hurrying at the end of the day to get her stuff together and get out the door. You remember that kid in the second grade, struggling with his lunchbox and his rubber boots when everyone else is already halfway home? That is me these days. And some days I want to call out..."Wait, wait for me!" And I wonder if I will catch up. No doubt when I get into my element...you know like the sea turtle, I take off, and then everyone else is calling for me to slow down. It is an uncomfortable thing to always be out of sync. Too slow...too fast...too deep...too high...too wide...though rarely too narrow :-)

Well, if you didn't know, the photo at the beginning of this post is from beloved Oregon. Bandon, Oregon and it is called "Face Rock." When I get my other posts up from the past month, you can read more about it.

At this moment I am imagining the faces of you who might be reading my blog. Young, old, in between? Amused? Bored? Tired? Peaceful? If you feel like it, take a few moments and give your face a massage. It feels great, and that beautiful face of yours deserves it.