Warm hands smooth away the tensions of the working day through the power of touch

Press, 28 December 1985, Page 13

Warm hands smooth away the tensions of the working day through the power of touch

By

SALLY BLUNDELL

The lidless gaze of Tutankhamen faces the ageless serenity of the Himalayan mountains. No other pictures adorn the walls — mauve walls, a soothing colour — and no sound except for the faint strains of a Japanese flute can be heard. A massage is in progress. The client lies face down on a small, narrow bed in the centre of the room. Naked except for a towel, he is able to breathe comfortably by fitting his face through a hole at the top of the bed. By his side Mark Bouckoms warms his hands with a mixture of sunflower oil and peppermint essence. Quietly, he leans over the man, holding one hand about an inch over the man’s neck, the other poised over the lower back. Then it all begins. Down the spine, around the hips, up the sides to the shoulders, round, to the neck, and down again. Like a cat gently pressing and prodding with the pads of its paws, the hands of the masseur push and rub, push and rub. An inconspicuous digital clock on the floor flashes away the minutes — 10, 15, 30, 45. For over an hour Mark practises his art, gently, persistently smoothing out knots of tension. \ “The least I can offer is relaxation and relief, working with friction to loosen up the muscles that knit themselves into tight knots, usually caused by tension,” Mark explains. A slight American accent stands as testimony to his years of training for ’ his present vocation as masseur and yoga teacher — an apprenticeship which leaves his working methods poles apart from those used in many of this country’s massage parlours. In 1982, Mark Bouckoms left New Zealand for a job as a clerk in the New Zealand embassy in New York. He took with him an interest

in martial arts and other fields which give self-discipline a high priority. Life in the fastest of fast lanes, downtown New York, made him realise, he says, how “out of balance” life could be, but the widespread stress in that city saw a range of alternative therapies being made available. “I saw the extremes of lifestyles, and my reaction was to try and get the balance back for myself. That started with yoga.” Raja yoga at the Himalayan Institute of New York offered a combination of Eastern and Western ideas — diet, posture, meditation, and exercise. By studying there part-time, actually living at the centre and working full-time at a branch of the institute in the Pennsylvanian countryside at the end of his apprenticeship, it took Mark Bouckoms only two years to earn his yoga teacher’s certificate — and to develop an interest in more “direct” methods of therapy. “I began to study acupressure — 15 hours a week — then when I came back here I learned the other styles, Swedish and the more intense deep tissue.” Since then he has taken over the practice of his massage teacher. His room, in the Natural Health Clinic on Bealey Avenue, sees a steady stream of people — men and women, young but more often old — tentatively walking in and hoping against nope that finally they will find relief amidst the mauve walls and the smell of peppermint essence. '“People who come in want to give it a go. Usually they are in a very bad state of stress — they’re desperate. I don’t just get hippies and massage freaks. Most have

never had a massage before, and I think they are surprised at what it can do. They go away more relaxed, or they can move their neck 10 degrees further — they get something. Undivided attention for over an hour — for many people that’s a therapy in itself. “What is a skeleton without muscle? It’s nothing, just a heap on the ground. A lot of people come in with spinal trouble when it’s a case of working on the muscles in the spine, shoulders, neck, and lower back. A lot of balance comes from the spine, and nerves, too.” Mark is quick to point out that there is nothing new in what he is doing. The quick after-game rub for athletes is something of an institution for the battered, mudsplattered football player, but long the development of club / rooms in New Zealand, massage was highly regarded as a method of relief. Early Roman bath houses echoed to the slap, slap of vigorous massage. Shiatsu in Japan, anointing in ancient Egypt, Greece, and Turkey, the shampooing establishments of nineteenth-century England, the European Vichy massage treatments aimed at the stiff-jointed aristocrats, and the widely publicised Champneys clinic in Hertfordshire, opened in 1925, all point to an unshakeable trust in the Kwer of skin on skin to ease the dy and soul.

But tell a friend at work that your are off for a massage, and the answer will be a knowing smirk or a look of shocked indignation. “Some women would rather go to a woman massuer — I can understand that — and most people are put off by the fact that a stranger will be touching them.

That’s why I always spend some time talking to them,” Mark Bouckoms says. “But many New Zealanders have hang-ups about touching and bodies. They’re overcoming a lot of old taboos by coming here.”

But what about the knowing smirk? “As a clinic with other therapists, this is obviously a respectable establishment — there’s no possibility of “extras’ or anything else. If people think otherwise, the receptionist soon tells them the story.” The fact that there are other therapists at the Natural Health Clinic — a homeopath, a naturopath, two rebirthers, a reflexologist, and a natural beauty therapist is not only beneficial in putting off those who ask for a Friday special. Good health is never gained through one branch of study alone, and dietary, breathing, and homeopathic advice from these other therapists may complement Mark’s massage treatment. The presence of other qualified practitioners also gives credence to the training and skill required by a professional masseur. “There are no schools for massage in New Zealand so I can’t say I’ve had formal training, but I’ve done my apprenticeship, my own study and learning, and I do seem to have some talent “Anyone can learn massage but tuning into the client is more intuitive; you have to dispel your inteDectual attitudes. You have to treat everyone as an individual, and gauge their degree of sensitivity. You have to remember that touch is very powerful. "Giving deep tissue therapy to a sensitive person would just blow them away, you might as well be pounding meat or kneading bread. Now, I always start with a light touch.”

Anyone who believes that if it hurts, it’s got to be good for you, will obviously have to think again. And so, too, will those who think continual good health necessitates continual visits to the clinic. As far as Mark is concerned, his business is that of self-sufficiency rather than dependence. “With a lot of problems there is a cycle. Someone has a back problem, so their muscles become tighter — and that makes the problem worse. I attempt to break that cycle, so they can return to health and energy. I don’t say I can cure, but I give the means. “I don’t want to become a pill” he adds. “I want people to become self-sufficient.” One look at the young masseur is enough to realise he has mastered the art of self-sufficiency. Lean and strong, he maintains a lifestyle of regular circuit training, cycling and swimming between his work at the clinic, teaching yoga two nights a week, and studying naturopathy extramurally. The body, he says, is a reflection of the mind, and through a balance of study and exercise he is a living example of the benefits of this balance between body and soul. For him, however, the living evidence of the treatment he advocates is a 70-year-old woman — one of his students — who is now practising yoga and swimming with gusto, proving that age gives no limitations on health and energy. But doesn’t energy ever wane? After a long day kneading away hard knots of tension? Mark Bouckoms smiles, and glances at the clock to see if his next client is ready and waiting. “Well, everyone can do with a massage from time to time — particularly the massage therapist”