This morning, as I do at least once a month, I took an express train to a neighbouring city, and then transferred to a tiny spur line to a mountainside destination.  That is how I get to my beloved massage therapist Murata-san.  As usual she came to meet me at the station and walked with me the five minutes that it takes to get to her private salon.  I’ve told her repeatedly that she needn’t come and meet me, that I can easily find my own way to her place (it’s a very pleasant walk through tree-lined avenues that have large houses with boxy German/Swedish cars parked in the driveways) but she refuses.  Today, I discovered the reason why. 

Apparently, when we are walking to her salon, she is surreptitiously studying my posture and my gait to decide the best course of treatment for me.  She can even tell the state of my health by doing so!  Many’s the time that I’ve been amazed to hear from her “your eyes are tired, aren’t they?” or “you’ve been using the whiteboard at work more than usual” or even “you’ve been constipated recently, haven’t you?”  It doesn’t end there: when we get to her place, she even asks to inspect my shoes, so that she can see which side of the heel is being worn down first, in order to make her pronouncements about my overall condition.

I don’t know how she does it, but somehow, she manages to nail the story of my life with scary 100% accuracy.  And all this by a mere five-minute walk and chat every few weeks.  If I were only half as perceptive as her, I think I’d be a brilliant teacher.  But guess that that kind of perceptiveness is one of the things that you either have, or you don’t.

Anyway, I feel really mellow right now, especially around the foot region.