Remembering Reverence
Reflections from a Massage Therapist
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about reverence — about what it means to truly honor the work I do, the people I serve, and the profession I’ve devoted my life to. It’s a word we don’t hear much anymore. Reverence may sound old-fashioned, inefficient or unprofitable. In my 37th year of practice, reverence is essential. Without it, something vital drains away from the work.
Reading Paul Woodruff’s Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue reminds us that reverence is not about religiousness or submission; it is about recognizing that there are greater forces in life than our own individual will — forces like healing, trust, and connection. Reverence is more about community. Reverence calls us to meet these forces with humility, gratitude, awe and care.
As I read this book I thought about massage therapists, showing up late for their appointments, or just a few minutes before the client, rushing to get the room ready. You might think it is easy to get the room ready the last time you are there. Unfortunately, that doesn’t always work. Some people don’t have one room of their own, they may share a room with other therapists or work in a space that they may rarely use the same room day to day. They may need to heat things up or get some supplies ready. If you don’t use hot stones or aromatherapy like the last person that used the room did, you may want to put that out of your way.
I have to confess. I was born with the punctual gene. I am usually there early. There usually isn’t anyone there to appreciate it.
One day I showed up to work and someone was all spread out in the room I was assigned to use. I had an appointment in 45 min. They had their laptop up on the massage table, a sandwich and chips and a drink because it was their lunch break. They had no awareness or thought beyond… that room is empty. They had another appointment too. They didn’t want to have the food smell in their room. They could have eaten in a couple other places that were not session rooms.
Sigh… it makes me wonder if some massage therapists really don’t care, just don’t have the bandwidth for that level of awareness, do not consider the space like I do, or are not consciously aware while others are consistently aware.
I remembered several therapists who also had reverence. One was someone I got to work with. They came in earlier than they needed to. They got their room ready. They checked their schedule and reviewed the charts to prepare for each person, they would check if there was any laundry to fold or put away, they had their breakfast yogurt and fruit with some tea. They were always about an hour early. One day I asked them why. They said it was their way of beginning the day with peace.
Another lovely person was at a Lymphatic Drainage class I went to in Texas. I was traveling there and didn’t have a table. They offered to share with me immediately. As they pulled their sheets out, they had fresh lavender stems folded into them. It was so thoughtful. Two sets of sheets for four days in a row. Always perfectly folded with fresh lavender stems. It was clear they had prepared to do this and share with another human.
I have never understood how some massage therapists that believe in energy work could just wad sheets and toss them in the cabinet while they were bitching or upset about something. I wonder if they took their belief seriously, they might think the client could feel that negative energy.
While I am not an energy worker, my guilty secret is I play The Sims. There is an environment score for every item in a space and it can affect your sims’ happiness too. Décor, furniture, etc all matters. I often wish we could understand that environment, space and everything in it matters. If we could have meter, score or something like the sims to inform us the space is not as good as we think it is.
I used to teach students to pack an invisible bag before they went to give a massage to another person. Put all the stuff that is cluttering around their mind in there, that grocery list, what is for dinner, worries, things they don’t want to forget. I assured them they would all still be in the invisible bag when their session was over. I was lying or just making something up to try to get them to give a person their full attention and stay focused during the time they are with that other person.
Every time I step into a treatment room, I am stepping into something sacred, whether I consciously acknowledge it or not. When I am in a chemotherapy infusion room, getting to work with a person while they are getting chemotherapy I consider that space too. One of the highest compliments I have ever gotten was “I do not know how you brought the zen in here with you but, you just smoothed over everything. Thank You.”
Reverence for the Profession
I didn’t stumble into massage therapy by accident. Like so many of us, I was called to it — drawn by a feeling that hands-on care mattered in a way that words sometimes couldn’t reach. My hands have always been warm. I was one of those kids on a farm whose small warm hands could reach slowly under a hen and gather eggs without getting them all flapping about. Dad taught me to milk the goats too, they would jump on the stand when they saw me coming. And yes, we had horses, if you ride them you take care of them, grooming them, brushing them. Add a constant bunch of dogs, and barn cats to pet and play with, shelling peas and snapping beans, it seemed I was learning to be in the flow quite early, experiencing using my hands in caring, specific, rhythmical ways. It was way before I went to massage school. I was inspired by the Osteopathic Physicians that took good care of us all. I had a great massage education, an amazing teacher, and I worked hard to do well. I think almost every massage therapist has been told they just did the best massage ever or they were the best massage therapist. Over time, it’s easy to let the extraordinary become ordinary. The rhythms of the work, the pressures of business, the cultural tendency to devalue "soft" skills — they can all make it tempting to forget how precious this profession is.
When I think reverently about massage therapy, I believe touch and massage to help others has been with us always as humans. It is part of a human story older than any modern credential or job description. To honor that story means continuing to learn, to deepen my skills, to stay curious. It means treating my education, my touch, and my very presence as things worthy of care and respect.
Reverence for Skill
One of Woodruff’s most striking points is that real learning requires humility. I’ve come to see that humility is essential to our craft. No matter how many techniques I master, no matter how many clients I serve, the human body will always be more complex than my full understanding. Each session is an invitation to meet a challenge.
Reverence reminds me not to get complacent. To stretch deeper into my listening. To honor that a "simple" Swedish massage or a "routine" shoulder session still has the potential to touch someone’s life in profound ways. Skill, when treated reverently, is not something I own — it’s something I constantly steward.
Reverence for Clients
Every time a client rests on my table, invites me into their hospital room or an infusion suite, they are offering me a tremendous gift: their trust. They are allowing themselves to be vulnerable in ways most people rarely are in daily life. It’s humbling when I really pause and think about it. Reverence asks me to never take that trust for granted.
It means not seeing my clients as puzzles to solve or problems to fix, but as whole beings — carrying stories, histories, griefs, and hopes inside their bodies. It means practicing consent at every step. Listening not just with my ears and hands, but with my heart. Showing up fully, not distracted, not rushed.
Reverence, at its heart, is about that attentive presence.
Reverence for Colleagues
According to the AMTA 2025 Massage Profession Research Report 73% of massage therapists are sole practitioners.
Massage therapy can feel isolating sometimes. We close the treatment room door, and for an hour or more, it's just us and the client. But beyond those walls is a larger community — a network of therapists, teachers, mentors, and colleagues, all working toward similar goals.
I've seen competition creep in at times — the idea that we must hoard clients or guard our techniques like secrets. But reverence shows me a better way: one where we lift each other up, share generously, and celebrate one another’s growth. We all may carry different pieces of wisdom and experience, when we recognize that, we may all become richer.
Daily Practices of Reverence
I'm learning that reverence isn’t something I can just think about; it’s something I have to practice. Slowly, quietly, intentionally.
I start each session with gratitude. Even if it’s just a brief silent breath, I honor the moment before placing my hands on another human being.
I move slowly when I can. Rushing is the enemy of reverence. It dulls the senses and crowds out presence.
I stay teachable. Every client has something new to teach me if I’m willing to listen.
I honor boundaries fiercely. Ethical practice is a fundamental expression of reverence — for myself and for those I serve.
The Heart of the Work
With all the noise, social media and our busy world it is a challenge for us as massage therapists to do this over and over again throughout a day. Each human we get to work with is different. Even if we specialize in Sports Massage, Cranial Sacral, Oncology Massage or work in a franchise. Being focused is my goal.
In my opinion it is a reverence in each moment, presence, connection and flow. I call it “Beingtherewithness”.
“Flow can only come when you are monotasking-
When you choose to set aside everything else and do one thing.
~Johann Hari, Stolen Focus
I am also surprised that massage therapists may have their phone in the room and ear buds in and be listening to a podcast or audible book while they were working with a client.
I wonder if they really do enjoy what they do. I wonder if they are missing anything with the work they are doing because they are listening to another thing. Or do they not miss the flow or connection because that just is not what they do.
We are not replaceable by robots, not because we have magic fingers, but because we offer something that can’t be manufactured: real attention. Sensitive, caring, responsive, human contact.
As Margaret Atwood said,
“Touch comes before sight, before speech. It is the first language and the last, and it always tells the truth.”
When we treat our work with reverence, we become part of that first language. We become part of the truth that every human being longs to be seen, known, touched, and honored exactly as they are.
This is what I want to remember. This is why I keep showing up.