In 2011, prompted by the passing of my father, I resolved to dedicate myself fully to this bodywork as my profession. This time, I wish to share a deeply personal reflection from that period.
On the eve of the New Year, 2010, my father collapsed from cancer and was admitted to the hospital.
Chemotherapy commenced, yet to my eyes, it did not seem as though the medication was battling the cancer. Instead, it felt as though my father's body was desperately fighting against the chemotherapy itself. Even amidst his fading consciousness, my father expressed a desire to cease treatment, but hospital policy dictated that once initiated, treatment could not be halted midway.
The only thing I could offer was a bodywork session. With that thought, I continued to gently touch my father's body every day in his hospital room. Though he bore an expression of profound suffering, I observed a subtle joy and a sense of calm reassurance settle upon him whenever I made contact.
As I continued to touch him, a realization dawned upon me.
Occasionally, the sensation of touching a living being would fade, and it would feel as though I were touching an inanimate object. Gradually, these moments grew longer. It was then that my father began to speak of things not belonging to this world. Without denial, I simply listened, my hands still upon his body.
One day, about two weeks after his admission, a profound realization struck me.
Could it be that my father, finding solace and joy in my touch, found it difficult to let go and depart?
Bodywork is predicated on supporting clients to achieve a "better state." Yet, in that moment, I realized that just as much as "healing," "the act of dying must also be honored and respected."
Having arrived at this understanding, I offered my father my final farewell right there and then, before returning to my solitary home.
Two days later, upon waking in the morning, I felt the distinct sensation of a hand on my back. It was a warm touch, conveying my father's spirit of "I am cheering you on." While musing if my father had visited, I attempted to return to my usual routine, only to receive the news of his passing that very evening.
This profound experience, I believe, has become the bedrock of my strength as a bodyworker today.
It is an unwavering strength that allows me to serve anyone, regardless of their circumstances. In the past, I have even been called to hospital rooms to perform sessions for those on the verge of passing. I believe they hoped for recovery, and I, too, wholeheartedly wished for their vibrant return. Though regrettably, that was not to be, I firmly believe that gently easing the body, worn and ravaged by treatment, in their final moments is an invaluable and irreplaceable act.
It is precisely through these experiences, through realizing that not only "healing" but even "death" itself must be honored, that I believe Unfolding Bodywork can empower me to trust the "inner strength" within each individual, no matter their situation, and to continue to walk alongside them on their journey.