MASSAGE

Permission: Give Me The Weight of Your Head.

People apologize to me for falling asleep on my massage table. They’ll wake up, slightly disoriented, and say:

• “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I think I fell asleep.”

My response?

Good.

You didn’t fail at receiving your massage. Your body may have finally succeeded at letting go.

You Don’t Have to Stay Awake for Your Massage to “Work”

Some people seem determined to participate in their massage. They want to remain conscious of every technique. They want to help me move their arm. They anticipate the next stretch. They hold their head up when I try to move it. Sometimes they even apologize when I tell them:

• “You can give me the weight of your head.”

Think about that sentence for a moment.

Give me the weight.

For an hour or two, you don’t have to carry everything.

• Not your head.

• Not your shoulders.

• Not your schedule.

• Not your responsibilities.

• Not the seventeen conversations happening inside your mind.

You are allowed to simply receive.

And sometimes the most profound evidence that someone has stopped trying to control the experience is that they fall asleep.

Your Nervous System Has Two Very Different Jobs

We often simplify the autonomic nervous system into two broad modes.

The sympathetic nervous system helps mobilize us: increased alertness, increased heart rate, readiness for action. It is enormously useful. You wouldn’t want to live without it.

The parasympathetic nervous system supports processes associated with rest, recovery and digestion. It helps the body shift away from constant mobilization.

Neither is the enemy.

The problem is that many of us spend enormous portions of our lives revved up.

• Deadlines.

• Traffic.

• Phones.

• Money.

• Relationships.

• Notifications.

• Pain.

• Uncertainty.

The nervous system doesn’t necessarily distinguish between being chased by something and spending the afternoon worrying about something. Different stressors can recruit overlapping physiological responses.

Then you get on a massage table.

• The room is quiet.

• The lights are low.

• You’re warm.

• Nobody needs anything from you.

• Your breathing begins to change.

• Muscles that have been subtly working all day begin to soften.

• Your attention stops scanning the outside world.

And somewhere along the way, you disappear.

That Little Snore May Be Beautiful

Massage doesn’t magically “switch on” the parasympathetic nervous system like flipping a breaker. Human physiology is more complicated than that.

But research on massage has found changes consistent with relaxation and autonomic regulation, and touch, warmth, rhythmic pressure, reduced sensory demands, and a safe environment can all contribute to a state in which sleep becomes much easier.

So when you fall asleep during a massage, I don’t interpret it as boredom.

I don’t think you wasted your session.

And I certainly don’t need you awake to appreciate my work.

I see a human being whose nervous system apparently decided:

• I don’t need to keep watch right now.

That’s a hell of a compliment.

Not merely to the therapist.

To the environment.

To the therapeutic relationship.

And perhaps most importantly, to your own body’s ability to recognize an opportunity to rest.

Sleep Is Not Lost Time

We have turned rest into something we think we have to earn. We brag about functioning on five hours of sleep. We drink something to wake ourselves up and take something else to calm ourselves down. We carry little computers everywhere that are specifically engineered to keep our attention.

Even relaxation becomes another assignment.

• Am I breathing correctly?

• Am I relaxed enough?

• Should I meditate?

• Am I getting everything I should out of this massage?

Stop.

You don’t have to achieve relaxation.

Sometimes you simply have to create the conditions where relaxation is possible and then get out of your body’s way.

There Is Something Deeper Happening

After decades around athletes, bodies, hospitality and massage tables, I’ve become fascinated by the moment someone stops helping me.

• Their arm becomes heavy.

• Their jaw softens.

• Their breathing changes.

• Their hands unclench.

• Their face looks different.

The person who walked through the door carrying the world is, for a little while, simply lying there.

• No performance.

• No productivity.

• No identity to maintain.

• No problem to solve.

• Just a body breathing.

There is something profoundly human about that.

So Please, Fall Asleep

If you fall asleep on my table, you never need to apologize.

• Snore.

• Drool.

• Lose track of time.

• Wake up wondering what planet you’re on.

I’ll take care of the rest.

Because massage isn’t something you need to stay awake to accomplish. Sometimes the most therapeutic thing you can do is stop trying to do anything at all.

Close your eyes.

Give me the weight of your head.

And let your body remember something the modern world keeps teaching it to forget:

• You are allowed to rest.