My best lesson on love (and massage) I learned from a man named Patch Adams.
Patch, a doctor, clown, and force for delightful subversion, used to visit the university I attended, University of Illinois, where he would lead workshops as an Artist-in-Residence. I didn't know who Patch was at the time, although all my juggler friends did, so I didn't know what to expect when I ended up at a massage workshop led by him.
I remember being one of many students sprawled around a dimly lit community room in Allen Hall, where Patch had not arrived yet. All of a sudden, this tall, wiry guy with baggy pants and high-top shoes and a handlebar mustache bounds in ranting "You're not touching! How can you give a massage when you're not even touching!"
As you can tell, I was about to go through a transformative experience.
In this workshop, we did not learn technique. We learned love, with instructions like this:
"Don't give massage if you want to get into someone's pants. If you want to get into someone's pants, say to them, 'I want to get into your pants.'"
"People need touch, and you need practice. Offer to rub someone's back. Or even their hand."
And the most important message: "Whenever you massage someone, think 'I love you.'"
This workshop happened some thirty years ago, and I still remember these things vividly. When I'm not too preoccupied with my own woes, I walk down the street thinking "I love you" to the world around me.
This is what I remember when I think about love.
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