It might not surprise you to learn, however, that it inspired a song... my internal jukebox fired up this repetitive but apt number:
Put'em on, put'em on, put'em on me
Put'em on, put'em on, put'em on me
Put'em on, put'em on, put'em on me
Put'em on, put'em on, put'em on me
Put'em on, put'em on, put'em on me
Put'em on, put'em on, put'em on me
Put'em on, put'em on, put'em on me
Put'em on, put'em on, put'em on me
Put your hands on me
Put your hands on me
Put your hands on me
Put your hands on me
Put your hands on me
Put your hands on me
Put your hands on me
And then I heard it again this morning as I braced myself for my massage. Yep, you read that right. But it wasn't your typical massage - it was a 3 1/2 hour lomilomi massage -- and I had a short but significant list of things I was hoping to work through. Work turned out to be the operative word.
It was really hard work. Lots of breath practice, breathing into tight spaces that she kept uncovering with all this really vigorous bodywork and stretching, lots of tough feelings arising. Ouch. Although it didn't feel good, I have to trust that I released some things that needed to be released and that the experience will help me move through some of the stickier places in my psyche and everyday life.
Afterward, I went for a swim in my beloved ocean, but even that wasn't exactly the respite I'd hoped. The surf was really strong and once again I felt like I was getting pushed a little harder than I wanted to be pushed and I had less control than I'd have liked. Getting tossed around out there, I reminded myself what my massage therapist said this afternoon -- maybe I don't need as much control as I thought I did.
A few minutes later, I emerged, and miraculously, I still had both pieces of my bathing suit. I also had a smile on my face for the first time all day...
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