Death by Masseuse
Today I went for a massage.
I lay there face down on the massage table, cheek pressed a little too firmly against the towel cushioning my head, or cushioning my face as it really was, and my mind began to wander.
I know the whole point of getting a massage is to relax, unwind, clear your mind, and maybe even use it as a form of meditation, but today wasn’t the day for that, clearly, as my mind was over-enthusiastically telling me.
As the lady masseuse massaged bits of me that I wasn’t even aware were aching, I began to think about life and death, and everything in between.
Here I was, lying in an unfamiliar place, allowing this woman who I’d only ever met once before and who didn’t even speak the same language as me, to touch me all over. I was like putty in her hands – in a sense, I had given her complete control over my body for that sixty minute session.
It made me think… it won’t be too long until the day that I am lying on another table, in another room, as strange women touch me again, all over – except this time I will be lifeless and as they wash me, my body will have to demonstrate every command of their will as there will be no alternative.
I remember being in the room as they washed my dear, dear grandmother. But to me, that wasn’t my grandmother – it was just another now empty house, whose rentee had moved on to her next Home.
And to me, that will be just my body – it won’t be me. My soul, what makes me truly who I am, will have continued on to the next part of its journey leaving behind a dusty capsule, which will be left to return to the earth as I return to the Source from which I came. It will be a wonderful day; freedom from the confines of human life, and God willing, increased proximity to the One that I love.
Inna Lillahi Wa Inna Ilayhi Raji’un. From Him we come and to Him we will return.
All this while lying on a massage table. I swear, you don’t want to be my mind.