Stories I Tell Clients: That's Really Different

I still practice massage at my own office and used to at a downtown spa. I seek to create a warm atmosphere of helpfulness and healing but refuse to preach at clients about their bad habits that stress their bodies. I am willing to tell a few stories, though—real ones. Of course, I am careful not to use names, to reveal too many details, or to lie! And I respect the silence of clients who don’t want any talk at all. But for the loquacious, I use my stories to help them understand the condition of their bodies or the process of massage.

Occasionally new clients ask, “How long have you been doing massage?”

I tell them, “I’ve given massages professionally for fourteen years.”

“What did you do before that?” they almost always respond.

“I was a minister.”

That stops the conversation almost as effectively as being introduced as a minister to a group of people drinking heavily at a bar. Usually my clients are lying face down and so can recover without my seeing their hesitation or chagrin.

“That’s really different,” many of them say.

“No,” I answer with a chuckle. “My clients still tell me their problems.”

We laugh together. Then I continue. “Actually it is different. In the massage context they edit their stories much less, and I don’t have to see them and their families next Sunday.” We laugh some more and sometimes hold a conversation or lapse into silence.

The Shavano Valley site of Ute Petroglyphs
is noted for its many hand, foot, paw, and
hoof designs.
Mixed media with acrylic washes, oil
pastels, and Prisma color, Phillip Hoyle