“For the first time in my life, I let myself be held . . . like a big ol’ baby. And I surrender to your charity.” 

Those lyrics from the rock ’n’ roll group Spoon sum up my recent bodywork experience receiving Watsu. (Watsu is aquatic shiatsu, offered in a swimming pool, spa, or hot springs. We interviewed its creator, Harold Dull, for the July/August 2018 issue of Massage & Bodywork.) 

It had been years since my last dip in the Watsu waters, a quick splash during a Montreal conference more than a decade ago. (That was more of a “let’s try this out” display in a hotel pool than an actual hour-long treatment. And the water was icy!) This time, the conditions were prime. The 100-degree water temperature beckoned, inviting me to immerse fully. 

My practitioner greeted me warmly, went over my health history, asked me a few general questions, and probed me on my intentions for the session. Then, we were off and . . . floating. 

What ensued was a water ballet guided by my therapist. I surrendered into her supporting arms and experienced something motherly, childlike, and oh, so freeing. Unencumbered by gravity (with some assistance from floaties attached to my legs for buoyancy), I was held, stretched, pushed, and pulled through the water in sinuous motions. This was the definition of checking out. I left my worries behind and was singularly focused on the session, as the therapist and I were active participants together. 

I pondered about being the practitioner and how amazing this therapy would be to offer clients again and again. How nurturing it is for both parties. How rewarding that must feel. 

Which brings me to this issue of the magazine. Among the outstanding articles within, I found myself returning to David M. Lobenstine’s “What Makes a Massage Great?” (page 48), simply because, what indeed does make a session exceptional? I knew in that moment of Watsu bliss I was experiencing greatness, but what about other modalities? What about the mainstays of Swedish and deep tissue? How do you stay fresh and invigorated on day 2, 200, or 2,000 of your professional career? 

David’s article focuses on the balance between repetition and reinvention—striving for improvement, being excited about your practice, and avoiding staleness and burnout. 

My Watsu journey concluded with being handed a nose plug, told to breathe in and hold that breath, and then doing three quick spins under the water, clutching my own legs . . . like a big ol’ baby. I emerged and was different. 

Remember what your touch does for us clients. What an honor to give and receive. We hope you enjoy this issue.