While I was a film school student in Vancouver, B.C., I began a search for a massage therapist to release intense muscle strain, due to what I thought was the intense strain of the school pressures. A friend suggested I look into Polarity Therapy. I’d never heard of it, so I did some research, and it sounded like something I needed. Basically, it is energy bodywork that seeks to restore balance.

Here’s a link for anyone who’s interested: https://bit.ly/365SH5x

Well, it all sounded good to me, and I began asking around if anyone could recommend a practitioner. It wasn’t until I went to my regular meditation group a few days later, that I got my answer. There was a small table filled with business cards of meditators who were welcomed to leave them, and I saw “Polarity Therapy Sessions” engraved on a business card. On it was a man’s name, with a phone number, so I called and made an appointment with his service for the following week. The film school program was accelerated, offering a certificate in 8 months, instead of the usual two years. It felt like going to med school with no science background. It was insane (I loved it), but I was a mass of muscle tension.

I went to a small, pretty apartment building in a somewhat chic section of the city. I had to be buzzed in from the lobby, and as soon as I opened the door, I heard, “Hey! Come on up — third floor, door to the left.” When I topped the second landing, I saw him waiting for me in his doorway, with a big smile. I’ll call him “Wolf The Dreamboat”, but ‘Wolf’ to make it easier here. Lovelies, I have been both blessed and cursed, by finding myself flowing in and out of the company of gorgeous men since I moved out of my Mama’s house. Wolf was Yummy. My stomach flipped in dismay, because I really didn’t want or need the distraction then, but I did climb those stairs. He sat me in his treatment room, and he offered me tea from a beautiful little teapot, along with a little cup. Tibetan bowls softly hummed and toned in the background. Most of the session consisted of talking; my background, what brought me to him, etc. He was professional, and at the same time, his smile and laugh made me feel like I was with an old friend.

I realized that I’d seen him somewhere before and mentioned it. He looked sheepish, and said, “Yeah, I used to be the guy you’d see in the Canadian Coca Cola ads”, and that he’d done a fair amount of professional acting. That didn’t really explain it, since I’d only been in Canada a short time, but we shared stories of the gory and the ridiculous from our respective experiences in the entertainment industry. I figured that I ‘recognized’ him because he just had that kind of masculine beauty that both women and men find impossible to look away from; the kind of features that ad agencies and casting directors kill for. When it was nearing time to go, he explained the next step was for me to commit to back-to-back sessions for at least six weeks in order to see real change. He never asked me to get on his table that first session, and at the end he asked me to stand. He got behind me, and did a quick assessment of my shoulders, upper back, and neck. “Jesus, Bibi, what’s happened to you?” I surprised myself by tearing up to the point they started flowing, so much so that he gave me a tissue, and we sat down again. He didn’t ask any questions, just let me sit along with him until I was myself again and ready to go. Finally, he said, “Part of the therapy is touch, and I’ll need your permission for that.” I agreed, and we made an appointment for the following week. He asked that I wear something comfortable, and not too loose. I described my workout gear, and he said, “Perfect”.

Time flew, and once again I was in Wolf’s treatment room. It was just so easy, so relaxing and wonderful to be in his presence. The man was a born healer, and he abandoned a life of, well, glamor, making oodles of money, for a simpler life of helping people. We always sat and spoke for a few minutes at first, as a way of grounding, and preparing. That second session, he told me to lie face first on his massage table, with my head in the little recess. He started with my ankles, and I don’t even remember what happened, because right away, I was off somewhere else, on a cloud, not sleeping, just… somewhere else. His skilled hands were very firm, strong, big, and full of authority. It felt like I was gone for hours when I heard him say, “Ok. This is when you and I start working together”. I kind of turned my head and saw him standing right by my hips. ”I just needed to assess your grounding, to see the right place to begin. “I’ve got it, and we’re going to begin right here “. He then placed a hand on my thigh, “and work up,” moving his hand to lightly move past my butt and up to the mid-back. I giggled, I couldn’t help it, and he said, “As long as you’re comfortable, but we’ll be getting kind of close, as I already explained to you”. He had, and I nodded. “Okay’, he said, and with a little “oof” he leaped up onto the table and straddled me, down a bit, at my thighs. “Now, I’m going to need to go in deep, and this is the best position for that”. I smiled to myself and nodded my head.

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