[Taken from a Facebook post a few weeks ago]
I had a bit of a revelation today. I have been massaging older-ish women lately for some reason (by older-ish, I'm talking 65+). I'm willing to bet cash money that each of these women finds themselves too fat, or too lumpy, or scarred, or too many moles, or stretch-markish, or too skinny and bony, or to hunched or too spindly.
And each and every one of them was BEAUTIFUL to me.
These beautiful, fat, mole-ish, stretch-markish, skinny, hunched, spindly, scarred bodies were gorgeous.
Because with each of them, I could see the infant they once were. The young bride. The valued grandmother. The dark-of-the-night cry-because-it-hurts women.
I felt their beauty emanating from their skin, their muscles, bones, hair, fingernails. I heard it in their voices, their sighs, their laughter. I felt it in their inhalations and exhalations.
I massaged one woman's surgical scars, and she asked me why. I replied that I wanted her scars to know that they were loved too. They are a part of her beauty. She said that no one ever made her feel love toward her scars before.
THIS, my friends. This is why I love what I'm doing. This.