Thai Traditional Massage: Wat’s it all about?
Bangkok, Thailand
What was a Thai massage school doing housed in a wat? Before leaving for Thailand friends advised me to visit Wat Po, the oldest and largest religious temple in Bangkok. They urged me to visit Wat Po not because it exhibits Thailand’s largest reclining Buddha, and not because of its overwhelmingly stunning physical attributes, but because it houses Thailand’s national headquarters for the teaching and preservation of traditional medicine, including Thai massage. More specifically, Wat Po’s Thai Traditional Massage School.
Raised in religious church settings where the most physical thing you could do was kneel during service, I was intrigued by how the physical healing art of massage could have religious roots in Buddhism. I imagined rose scented incense burning, great golden Buddha’s, saffron-robed monks in prayer and versions of yoga-like poses. Just the word “Thai” conjured up visions of something totally exotic and far removed from my usual experience with Swedish massage. At least I knew enough not to expect individual spa rooms with warm sheeted massage beds and “Enya” playing on the stereo.
Exotic is an understatement when marveling at the striking magnificence of the structures at Wat Po. Not one of them resembled what my western eyes were used to except for one, The School of Thai Massage. In contrast to the magnificent golden temples with green tiled roofs and multi-colored mosaic tiled chedi monuments, the school was a humble one-storied, white washed building with a brown-shingled roof; it was not nearly as impressive or imposing as the neighboring religious structures. Like Alice, who could not resist walking through the mirror into Wonderland, my curiosity prompted me to walk through the plain wooden doors and discover what new experience might await me.
Past the threshold, I was greeted with a polite “Sayadee” from several petite Thai women standing at a glossy teakwood hostess stand. To my left were wooden benches seated with waiting customers. It was a mixed bunch. A couple of sweating tourists with waist packs on looking at a guidebook, an elderly Thai woman wearing a bright sapphire blue, gold and white sarong waving a paper fan near her face and a young Thai mother with her little boy.
The room opened up into a large open space spanning the length of the building. Filling it were rows and rows of cots with a main aisle down the middle. There must have been about 65 cots in the room. Clearly, privacy was not an issue here. Upon the rows of cots bodies were being twisted, pulled and flexed into all sorts of pretzel poses. I saw people on their backs with their legs bent in a variety of configurations; people sitting cross-legged while the masseuse flexed and rotated their arms this way and that way; and I saw a woman on her stomach being rocked back and forth like a rocking horse. I felt like a voyeur. How could this feel good? Surely my friends would not have suggested this if they didn’t think it was enjoyable. Was somebody pulling my leg? Very soon, by the looks of things, somebody certainly would be.
No one was screaming, groaning or crying out in pain. It was quite the opposite. No knee cracking or joint popping at all. No, this was not some modern day method of medieval torture. This was Thai massage, a 2500-year-old healing arts practice. A practice said to be created by Buddha’s own physician. A technique originated and employed by Buddhist monks for centuries, becoming the very foundation of Thai massage. A technique that was so revered that in the 18th century the texts were carved into stone epigraphs and placed around the great temple in Bangkok to ensure their safety. They remain to this day, their images serving as a guide for the applied technique at the school. Walking around Wat Po you can observe the 60 carvings.
There is a first time for everything, like the first time you ate brussel sprouts or wore spandex bike shorts in public. You knew it was good for you but needed a little coaxing to bring the fork to your mouth or reveal your less than ubër body in public. Plus, the mere fact that everyone was more relaxed than me was a good indicator to allow myself the same privilege. Really, if it was good enough for Buddha, it should be good enough for me, right? My mind was beginning to switch gears. Suddenly, I felt like the Grinch with a complete change of heart. I began to look forward to the practice designed to relax and revitalize the mind and body.
The petite Thai masseuse motioned for me to lie on my back. Standing at my feet, she clasped her hands and bowed her head in prayer. A flicker of skepticism came over me, was she performing some sort of last rites prayer or asking Buddha for my safety? No. It is customary for the masseuse to pray to Buddha before conducting a Thai massage so that both the giver and receiver may benefit from the flow of energy between them. The benefits are twofold; both the giver and receiver experience an exchange of energy. That flow of energy between the two is called “prana” or life energy, which extends along the sen lines of the body, a crisscross pattern of lines that distribute blood and “prana” to bones, muscles and organs.
Thai massage traditionally begins with the feet as they are considered the beginning and ending of the energy pathways (sen lines) of the body. Feet, palms, thumbs, elbows, forearms and knees are all used to apply deep pressure along the energy lines, the sen. Other techniques resemble a form of yoga, administering twists and stretches.
The Thai masseuse palmed and thumbed the soles of my feet with gentle and consistent pressure. She continued up each leg and my upper body using a variety of techniques. At times she would sit on the cot with me and press her foot against the inside of my thigh while pulling the top of my leg towards her, employing a push pull effect. Other times, using her palms she would catwalk up the sen lines of my leg, much like a cat kneading a cushy pillow or blanket with its paws. The effect was rhythmical and slow paced. Each movement meant to bring harmony and peace into the body and create a feeling of balance and well-being. I could tell I was approaching Nirvana and perhaps a catnap.
Even the rocking horse stretch relieved tired, cramped, jet lagged muscles. We definitely weren’t horsin’ around with this one. As I lay on my stomach, the masseuse stood on the cot behind me, lifted my arms up behind my back then proceeded to gently pull my hands towards her creating a back and forth, rocking horse motion with my body. As my arms were extended behind me my abdomen eased off the cot with each pull, my back slightly arching. Then, as she released the stretch my body relaxed upon the cot again. A miracle occurred. My fearful skeptical thoughts had evaporated somewhere between the catwalk and the rocking horse stretch. I was a puddle of melted butter. I had not felt this completely calm both physically and mentally in a long time. My mind was unencumbered and at ease. I could now see why Buddhists monks created various postures for release of physical stress during times of extended meditation.
Rejuvenated and euphoric, I was ready to preach the restorative benefits of this ancient practice rooted in the carvings at Wat Po. Thankfully King Rama III had the foresight to preserve the religious medical texts from Burmese invaders attacking the ancient capital of Ayutthaya in 1832. Passed on from generation to generation for centuries, it is no wonder Thai massage is considered part of a normal health regime in Thailand. I was transformed, a true believer in its merits, a revelation indeed.
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