Starting massage school

Yeah, it's official. I am going to start training to be a bodyworker in the fall, beginning with a massage therapy course mixed in with craniosacral therapy. I am thrilled, elated, anticipatory...

And scared. It's a funny scared feeling. Lung-tightening. My partner, Raquel, keeps asking me why I'm scared. Most of the time I don't know. But I think it might have something to do with suspending the absolute hold I've let rational thought play in my life.

Meaning, I usually deal with strife by thinking through a problem, understanding a perspective, gaining more information, making lists and graphing out a solution. While I can't imagine giving up information junkiehood, I have been hungry for something else. I want something that combines that rational part of me with those places that feel unexplainable. Oh, shit, this all sounds so cheesy and I hate how absolutely cornball anything related to bodywork and intuition has become. Talk about a gendered conversation - don't mind the girl in the corner, she just wants to touch people and wander around their auras.

But I want it. Intensely. I have started to dream about it, to look for the seams in this world, this way of being, and to watch for where the seams start to get threadbare and open up to something.... cheesy again.

As I sat in my interview this morning, I looked down at my hands and noticed my nails. Kind of raggedy and long. After over ten years of living with a butch top, I've not even had to think about my nails. That was her job. Well, time to make sure they stay short again.