Table Talk: Zoo

One panel from triptych of big horn sheep painting
by Phillip Hoyle

     Dianne, a classmate in massage school, asked if I would go with her to the zoo. She had an invitation to give massage there at the Hep-Fest, an educational outreach for people who may have been exposed to or are living with Hepatitis C. She needed one other massage therapist. I agreed to accompany her.

     We unloaded our equipment and lugged it to the designated area near the pachyderm house. We set up our tables under a big tent. Since people were already waiting for massage, we began work immediately. Between clients we met our therapist neighbors. An acupuncturist, who worked next to me, was sticking willing people with needles. Some of the needles had clumps of moss on the end, which she set on fire. They smoked, adding heat to the treatment as well as an air of the exotic to the scene. On the other side of Dianne was a good-looking Asian-American jock at a booth promoting physical fitness through exercise. Dianne, bright and beautiful, worked in Swedish style, rubbing oil on people’s legs, backs, and arms. I worked in Thai style, compressing points along meridians and stretching joints. The regal trumpeting of elephants contrasted with the pitiful cries of peacocks. Ducks waddled past with their ducklings in queue. And people, lots of people, mingled in the mix, watching a magician, a storyteller, and a caricature artist. They visited information booths. Some got massage.

     My main massage teacher spoke of his therapy room as a sacred space. In it he provides symbols, ceremony, and an atmosphere of healing. Emulating him, I made my therapy room a kind of sanctuary, a space dedicated to the practice of massage. My clients climb the stairs and enter, discovering artwork, candles, a water fountain, incense, and plants. The subdued atmosphere assists in relaxation. Overseeing the sessions are patron saints Mary Magdalene and the wise woman of my massage vision. They bring holiness to the space and to the work.

     I imagine there may be saints who bless each place I work. At the zoo, surely one can sense the presence of St. Francis of Assisi; the animals have called him there. St. John the Baptist seems to hover over the spa, where people come for pain relief, image remakes, and water treatments. I’m sure I saw St. Martha, patron of servers, when I was giving a massage at the coffee shop. St. Hillary, patron of attorneys, walked down the hallway when I worked at the lawyer’s office. Presumably, scholar Saints Jerome and Bede oversaw the learning of techniques and traditions in the massage school classrooms and clinic.

     While massage does not depend upon the presence of holy figures, it seems always to be a holy undertaking that may be enhanced by visualization. Massage serves as an invitation into a sanctuary, a safe place for relaxation and perhaps reflection. The external setting may be important, but whatever the outward conditions, massage discovers and exalts the sacred space of the body and always recognizes the holy one who is receiving the work. At a conference, massage relieves tired muscles caused by too many hours sitting and concentrating. In a business office, it creates a calm place within the body. In a coffee shop, the client already has come aside for refreshment. Privacy is afforded by the face cradle and sanctity by the experience of the massage itself.

     Zoo, workplace, spa, clinic, or studio, all can be significant places for massage. Each space, whether everyday or extraordinary, teaches some new aspect of holiness and invites a novel reflection on the body itself. One’s body is the necessary space for any massage. Even so, I am still looking for new places and people to massage. Perhaps I could work on you in the Botanical Gardens. Will we discover the gardeners’ patron St. Fiacre there tending flower beds? Perhaps St. Francis surrounded by his bird friends? It doesn’t matter, but they may lend a sense of the sacredness of your own self, your body, your life.

Herd Leader painting by Phillip Hoyle
Native American petroglyphs across North America often
portray animals. Animal spirits were sought as power totems
and the animals themselves as a major food source. In Euro-
American tradition saints often have animal symbols
attached to their portrayals. I came to realize that the connection
may be as old as humanity itself. If saints are sensitive to
animals, why not the rest of uss? Well it's an idea.