Yesterday I went for something called a “stretching massage”. It was something I had not done before. I was quite curious. Being long and historically inflexible, getting “help” in stretching sounded like a good idea. Many years ago I did Pilates, and my favourite moments were when the instructor would help me lean into a stretch.
I also did it because I planned to do a very big run today, and wanted to be ready for it physically and mentally.
This was a clothed massage, and although I never have been to a chiropractor, some of the movements seemed as if they might be the same. Hip joints, legs, spine, and shoulders were the focus. But as she started, I couldn’t help but think of being a baby and being changed. The way that I lay, the way that she stood, and the way that she pushed and stretched my legs took me back in time. She opened my legs, and pushed them wide, and pushed against my opposite hip, creating an intense stretch that opened my hips. The way she moved my legs around.
It was quite painful as well, in a good way, as I felt the stretch. She was constantly checking in with me about it, and whether it was too much, or whether I could take it. Other stretches, of my shoulders, of my thighs, were intensely painful. The breathing that I am learning from my Mistress was helpful to me.
After we had finished, the masseuse asked me how I felt. I told her, “you made me feel like a baby when you were stretching me.” She smiled. She has been my masseuse before.
My stretching was followed by a traditional massage. While it involves my nudity, her artistry with sheets and towels is consummate. With my two previous massages with her, I felt her, but also felt that she was absent. Her hands and mind felt different today. First, she regarded me naked as I slid into the sheet. Second, she was more comfortable it seemed with my body today than previously. I could feel it in her hands and her approach to me, and also to where she allowed her hands to go. Please, nothing prurient about it. But she gave me a much more present massage.
What I wonder is whether I could feel her presence more clearly because Mistress is teaching me how to touch and how to receive to touch, and how to be present for touch. Or was it what I said to the masseuse when she asked how I felt, because my comment to her seemed to relax her. Or was she just getting used to me, or maybe just having a better day? Or all of the above?
I do believe that Mistress is opening me up to the world around me. That I am sensing and feeling things that are new to me. She is a gifted Mistress and I am glad to be in her care.
Beyond Non-Binary 