Scholars Sanctuary

Today, as I laid on a table with my eyes closed, I silently cried. Today, during a massage, I began to heal. I have always heard how massages are healing. And I believed that,  since I have received massages before. But, today, I truly felt like healing was taking place. My massage therapist was gentle and kind. She oiled and touched my body, working on spots that were filled with tension. Under a dim light, with soft music playing, I closed my eyes and silently cried. I cried because it has been over a year since I last went to a massage parlor. My body was in much discomfort, yet I didn't feel the need to get it massaged. I received multiple signs over the past two days that forced me to realize I NEED this. Human touch can be delicate, sensitive, and is innately craved by all beings. Human touch, itself, has healing powers. You see, so many people don't experience that. The homeless population, the incarcerated, those deemed unlovable. They rarely, if ever, receive human...

I write in hopes of helping SOMEONE. I use my "voice" because someone out there needs to "hear" what I am saying. And I write to help myself, heal. I'll be perfectly honest... I am a mess. I have broken parts. Scars. Hurts. Grief. I'm human. Many of us carry these things. The key is to work through it. I say, pretty often, "do the work". It's easy to roll off my tongue. Not so easy to put into practice. Doing the work means actually peeling back those layers we have buried under some mundane task or filler. To do the work requires us to look WITHIN. Point out our OWN flaws and mess. THEN work on it. Work through every emotion that is brought  (back) to the surface. Work through what we suppressed and depressed. And that, my friends, is not easy. Writing is my outlet. It has saved me many times. There are journals and papers that hold secrets I am ashamed to tell. Emotions I swam deeply in. Feelings I don't ever want to feel again. T...