It was at the completion of our participation with the Best of Shasta Conference on Saturday, that we received an enthusiastic, yet foreign, phone call. We discovered we had just booked ourselves a very profitable venue with a large group of Japanese tourists. We had 40 minutes to pack up our booth and travel the 20 minutes to McCloud, Ca for the occasion. We had been camped out for three days, two nights and massaging for 9 hours that Saturday. Our skin was sticky, our clothes oil stained, our feet grimy, and our spirits still high. To our good fortune, the neighboring Psychic, Numeroligical, acupuncture, and other unexplainable booths pitched in by helping us carry our tables, baskets, trunks and chairs to the Chinook. As Christina pulled the Chinook around the parking lot, I saw it wipe out the large “Best of Shasta” banner in an epically Jurassic park scene of withering brilliance. The ribbons fell behind as we took ourselves Southward to a small Victorian bed and breakfast with eagerly awaiting clientele.
Now 7:30 pm at night, we found ourselves in a realm of unknown blunders and calm challenges. We carried our tables inside. There was a lot of excited pointing happening on part of our customers, since they knew little English. I was led to a small double twin room on the first floor, and Christina was swept upstairs to room, “twintee-woon.” I realized immediately that there was going to be no place for my massage table, nor space to work on the floor. The girls eagerly introduced themselves with hand gestures and slow pronunciations, communicating haphazardly that they were taking turns. The room was stuffy, and I felt nervous perspiration on my face and back of my legs. We had changed our clothing whilst moving 60mph along the highway, but my clothes felt tinged within minutes. I took some deep breaths, doused myself in Clary sage oil, and placed my faith in the Universe that I was there with the best intentions, and that I was welcomed by these kind people. Feeling myself loom over their petite and cleanly selves, the hands appeared oddly giant and pink against their soft smooth Asian skin. I told myself I was an Amazonian wonder and I comforted my ego and settled into source, calling on guidance of my angels. It was then that I noticed the beautiful stones and tiny statues on their dresser. Recalling that the event we had just finished was full of people inspired my multiple forms of alternative ideas, spiritual channels, and healers, I became suddenly aware that I had a lot of room to dabble. I was an exotic Northern California healer, and I had to assume these women had invited me to their home because of it. So, I dug into my crystal basket, burned some palo santo and sage, aligned their chakras, and made crystalline layouts over their bodies. As awkward as it was to perform Swedish massage, and shiatsu on a bed with only one side open, I prevailed! As we were saying our goodbyes, the ladies confirmed, “You maike gud technique. Yes, vary gud Shiatsu. We fill vary comfatabull.” And my spirit soared.