Awake

A day of grace

I took my practical exam yesterday--the most fun I've had in an exam yet. (Yes, I am aware that I am VERY strange.) I was so giddy and happy afterwards (hopefully due to the fact that I did well and not due to a self-delusional state). I feel good about the exam. I feel good because it's good to know that massage therapists in Oregon have to take that exam. It was difficult, but if you were well-prepared (in school, etc.) it wasn't tricky. I also feel good because even with the mistakes I made, they weren't catastrophic or endangering. :) And that's really all that matters.

I went to my morning trigger point class after my exam. (My hour or so exam was at 8:15am in Salem, giving me plenty of time to get back to Portland by 11:30am.) I was greeted by smiles, encouragement, lots of "how-did-it-gos", hugs and even a high-five. I am so thankful for this community in which I have the priviledge of belonging.

I am reflecting also on my own personal journey this past year or so, especially regarding touch. I remember when I enrolled telling my friend that I knew this would be a year of healing and growth for me personally. I said that I think this could be the year where scars fade and function returns. In anatomy we learn that after the red puffy tissue fills in the cut, the next tissue that moves in restores the shape that was before the injury. If all goes well, the functional tissue takes up residence, re-animating the injured area. I have found the journey of the heart to move along similar pathways. The heart breaks and you feel the injury acutely, the pain all over, the swelling of cried-out eyes and after a few days, you start to fill in the cracks in your heart with whatever will fit there. Anything to stop the bleeding. Other people, other places, other tasks--anything other than the thing that broke the heart in the first place. That stuff fills it in, but after days, weeks, months, years of this, the heart still doesn't function like it should.

But maybe after a while, some act of grace drops in unexpectedly, delivered by the unlikliest of messengers, coming out of nowhere, cutting in with the sharpest of intentions, at the precisely the right time and place. And by some act of grace, I recognized it. It was like an old friend. So, of course I would follow; of course I would see where it led.

And it led here. To this time and place—and I didn't even realize until yesterday, when I was in trigger point class yesterday morning after my practical. We were working deep into the abdomen, me, on the table, as relaxed as could be, happy to have finished my exam, and just then, an epiphany. I finally realized my heart was functioning again, my soul more wholly energized again. Not creeped out. Not overprotective. Not overly vigilant. Not moody. Not remorseful. Not regretful.

Just happy. That's all. Just happy.

So I feel good about the practical exam. I feel good about my day yesterday. I feel good about my life. I feel good about this journey.

Today I'm tired, worn out and a little sore (I really need a massage). But underneath it all, I can hear it. I can hear the sound of my heart functioning; the sound of grace coursing through my soul.