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The place where Delia the Monroe-sporting massage therapist worked was consolidated into the massage therapy chain and closed down. Delia moved to a new site up north. So I’ve been checking out new therapists.

Last week was the massage therapist who smelled of fried eggs, chewed orange hard candy while she worked, and who was rather rotund. Honestly, I found it a little disturbing that her boobs kinda rested on the back of my head when she stood at the head of the table and massaged my back. I realize other people might consider that a plus.

Today I saw Candice. Right from the get-go, the whole thing felt promising. She looked at me and said it’d be good to release my upper pecs and do some work on my rhomboids. Yes! Yes, exactly!

But first, Candice zeroed in on the tensions in my neck: ongoing tight spot in the right trap? Check. The place where the neck meets the bottom of the skull? Yup. Dig fingers in under there, as if pulling my skull off? Yes!

Lovely.

Fold my arm up behind my back like a chicken wing and dig in under the shoulderblade? Indeed. Oh, and the upper pecs/collarbone work? I thought I was going to dissolve or hallucinate. The pain was actually rather intense, but in a good way. I realize there is NO way to explain that; either you get it or you don’t.

At the end of the hour, I felt completely limp. Yay! I’ve been really hyped up and tense lately, and struggling to let go of it. Finally, finally, some peace of mind.

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Contributing to the peace of mind was this morning’s practice. On a whim, I put on some chants that Volleyball Guy used to play — it seems like YEARS ago. And, amusingly, it seems very dreamlike: my memories of Mysore practice at his house are very fuzzy — no doubt because of the time of day and the sheer repetitiveness.

As soon as I heard the chants, I was thrown into a huge wave of nostalgia and the strongest feelings of devotion. Oh, I can keep my practice rolling along quite merrily on my own, but there is an aspect of the devotional that only Volleyball Guy can bring.

Don’t know if it was the chanting, or the swell of devotional feelings, but the whole practice felt really strong and light and fulfilling. Which, of course, only serves to contrast with how practices have been lately: consumed by thoughts of work and daily life. Gah! Must put that stuff down! At least for the time it takes to practice.

Seriously.

I also have to quote Susananda, who wrote something really helpful on her blog today:

I think that’s the name of the game in Intermediate, not how well you can do each asana, but can you stick with the program and get through without stopping a lot, gasping for breath, hyperventilating, palpitations, desperation, fear of death… a steady flow, balance of energy and calm. Nerve cleansing… yeah.

I mean, I think I knew this — but it helps immensely to hear it from someone who is working third series and who has some perspective from the “other side” of second.

And, of course, the fact that it’s funny is also a plus.

Just as an aside, during the chest muscle Rolfing pressure-from-hell work of Candice this morning, it occurred to me that the emotion I keep in my upper front body muscles is largely about mortality. Death and oblivion. Alrighty, then. Digging into the poses of intermediate can only be fun.

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The raw food experiment goes along nicely. I downloaded the CRON-o-Meter, just to check out the nutritional situation as I go along. I’m kinda wondering about the deal with fat, what with the heavy reliance on nuts for protein.

Yes, I’ve been having some raw hemp protein powder (Vanilla Chai flavor! Cinnamony! Sweet! Gritty!). This is an interesting puzzle to solve. Back in the day, I solved the protein question with “and a huge slab of meat,” and more recently with “and soyburgers washed down with soymilk.”

Anyone want to comment on current thoughts re: macronutrient ratios?