The Grace Of Oil Massage On Straw Mats Awakens The Circulation Of Prana
Nearly naked, sitting a straw mat in a sparsely furnished room in Kannur, Kerala, simultaneously vulnerable, curious and expectant, I waited for my first treatment session to begin.
I had traveled half-way around the world to Kerala to receive Kalari treatment, the initial entré for many into Kalarippayattu, an ancient martial art developed in Kerala guided by Ayurvedic principles. Treatment is administered by the Gurukkal (the senior-most teacher and overseer of the Kalari school) and advanced practitioners, who are highly skilled martial artists and masterful massage therapists, physiotherapists and neurologists with a deep understanding of anatomy and the subtle body. They are adept at controlling the flow of prana (vital life-force) in their bodies and able to channel this energy through the hands while giving massage.
The flow of prana through this treatment is done by direct manipulation of the body via oil massage and application of hot medicinal oils (kili). Understanding the energetic body and its system of nadis, the energy channels through which prana flows is fundamental to creating balance. Most important here is the prana of vyana vayu, which governs the circulation of the entire body and manages the functioning of the nervous system.
The marma points are found at points of intersection of the nadis and the skin itself is a vast marma zone, thus Kalari therapy, which includes marma therapy, treats dis-ease and ailments by stimulating the flow of vyana vayu through touch, the skin naturally being the place of contact. When the flow of vyana vayu is disturbed vata (the air humour) is aggravated. Whenever there is a marma injury, vata is disturbed. Wherever there is pain, vata is disturbed. This disturbance can cause anxiety, insomnia, agitation, irritation, hypersensitivity, excessive dryness and other related problems. Disturbance or provocation of vata can be the result of injury, trauma (including emotional trauma), weakness or debilitation in the tissues, exhaustion, overwork or stress or restrictions in movement and the free flow of energy in the body. The imbalance can sit beneath the surface, not revealing its nature for years or even decades. For example, someone sustaining a head injury may develop asthma or bronchitis after thirty years.
Every function of the body is dependent on the condition of vata and in Ayurveda, vata must first be brought under control. The massage in Kalari treatments unblock restricted channels allowing vata to course freely through the nadis.
My doorway to receiving Kalari treatment was an act of grace. Several years ago I was lucky enough to attend a Kalari workshop with Gerhard Schmid, a senior Kalari student from Hamburg, Germany. He noticed and asked me about the misalignment of my skeleton. After hearing that I’d sustained multiple fractures in a severe car accident when I was nineteen, sixteen years previously, he suggested that Kalari could help and advised me to spend a month with his teacher, Sherifka. He also said that it would help pacify my (often-aggravated) vata. I was intrigued and encouraged. Gerhard was the first to suggest that my post-accident lopsidedness could be reversed; over the years it seemed to become progressively worse. to put things in perspective: the aforementioned car accident left me with a fractured skull, five broken ribs, a punctured lung, smashed elbow, broken humerus and clavicle (all on the left side) along with multiple cuts, severe bruising and swelling. Although I healed successfully and underwent physical therapy, my left shoulder sloped and drooped forward and over the years I developed a slight scoliosis in my mid-spine. Years of leaning left tilted pelvis and I developed sciatica on the right side, a frequent source of pain. Finally the stars aligned, my visa arrived, my classes were subbed and in February, 2010, I was Kerala bound.
After acclimatizing, Sherifka (our gracious and ever-good-humored host and Gurukkal) asked me to write down every significant illness, trauma and injury I’d experienced, then took me to see an Ayurvedic physician who looked at my nails, listened to my heartbeat and examined my tongue. When we left, Sherifka took me to get a fresh coconut and told me that coconuts were part of my treatment. I was to have at least one day to help cool my body and fight the urinary tract infection I had developed before leaving the States. Coconuts as part of my treatment? Yes! That I could live with. Later that evening, Rajeev, one of the Kalari teacher-therapists (who had possibly the biggest smile I’ve ever seen) brought me several types of pills and kashayams, Ayurvedic herbal medicinal potions. Mine were to strengthen and purify the bladder and kidneys.
My treatment program consisted of seven days of marma massage followed by a purging day and then seven days more massage and kiri (hot oil treatment). After having a cup of delicious morning chai, I walked across the garden to the treatment house to sit on my personal massage mat, woven from reeds, destroyed when our series of treatments sessions were over. Sherifka and another senior kalari practitioner/healer named Ramesh massaged me as I wore the customary lunghi (large piece of rectangular cloth) tied around my neck, sarong style over a lunghoti, basically a loincloth.
The experience was quite ritualistic and throughout, I felt curiously vulnerable. I began, seated, legs crossed, in just the lunghoti. Ramesh lit incense and rub oil on my head, the oils chosen by the Ayurvedic physician who prescribed one type of medicinal oil for my head and a combination of two different oils for my body. Then I would lie on my stomach and both Ramesh and Sherifka would begin the full body massage.
The massage’s broad sweeping strokes and varying degrees of pressure followed the same format in each session. Some aspects of my treatment (for my sciatica and neck) addressed my particular (and in my case also long-standing) imbalances and because of their specificity and intensity, were administered by Sherifka, the Gurukkal. Some days involved Sherifka’s “thumbs in bum” technique during which I was on my knees, bum in the air, arms on the floor in front of me, with Sherifka standing behind me using his thumbs to dig around in each buttock. It was excruciating, particularly on the right side, because of the sciatica, but after a few sessions the pain eased considerably.
Sometimes the strong emotions instigated by the bodywork elicited tears – even of relief. Sometimes I would cry from sheer relief as space opened up in my body. The gradual unwinding of my lopsidedness started to shift. On the afternoon of the tenth day of treatment, I was meditating when I noticed an unfamiliar sensation in my left rib cage. I continued focusing on my breath as tears streamed down my face. I felt a part of my body that I had not been able to access for over sixteen years because I had become so collapsed on my left side. I was flooded with a mixture of relief and enormous sadness, the overwhelming emotion that had been stored inside for so long.
A few days in, I began to understand the importance of resting and being quiet. It is such deep internal work, and even though on one hand it seemed as if nothing was happening during the massage treatment, on the other hand I knew that below the surface everything was happening. This was unlike any other type of massage I’d had before (and I’ve had a lot). It was simultaneously gentle, deep and subtle. But even more profound, the whole experience was outside any paradigm I’d previously encountered. I wasn’t in a Yoga environment, I wasn’t on a retreat, there were no set activities or services I had to partake in, nor belief system. Rest, three delicious freshly cooked meals daily, endless cups of chai and treatment were the agenda items. Yet, I was undergoing shifts that were entirely new and I was becoming lighter, not just physically, but energetically.
Day eight, people began telling me I looked completely different, something deep had shifted. Even in the absence of mirrors I knew something of what they meant; I was lighter, less anxious. Daily massage bathing in warm oil, applied rhythmically and deep was working magic on my nervous system. According to Sherifka, the accidents and repeated trauma left my nervous system in need of rejuvenation. The combination of marma therapy, massage, medicinal oils and nourishing food cooked for us, clothes (hand) washed for us, rest and walks on the beach were the rasayana, the rejuvenative alchemy. The warmth and friendliness of our Indian caregivers and the love and concern they lavished on us, as well as the fact that they seemed to be always smiling, always laughing and joking, meant that the general atmosphere was conducive to rest and relaxation. And there really was nothing to do but relax.
I loved the feeling of being covered in oil even though some of my housemates would rush back to scrub off the oil immediately after treatment. The oil made me feel at ease and more relaxed. I particularly loved killi, the hot oil treatment. The room it took place in was, like the massage room, stark with oil-splashed walls. Clad only in my lunghoti I sat on a stool, behind me I heard oil sizzling away in a wooden bowl over a gas flame. Anil, the killi therapist applied an herbal poultice (like the oils and other medicines the herbs were specifically chosen) dipped in hot oil directly to the skin using long strokes. After each application, he massaged the area with his hands. Over the ten to fifteen minutes of the treatment’s duration, the oil became progressively hotter and sweat would be literally pouring down my arms. Still I loved it. My body felt something I had never experienced before, and I still can’t articulate.
In my case, the killi treatment was concentrated in the areas where my body was so injured: the left side of my neck and upper back and my lower back, buttocks and thighs because of the sciatica. In the previously injured areas especially, I felt a softening, an opening I had never before experienced. Anil explained that this treatment worked not just on the gross physical level of the muscles, but more importantly the nerves and the subtle body. I was ecstatic when I heard the instructions to let the oil remain on the body for five hours or more so it could continue to seep into my skin and into the deeper tissues and shift the subtle body.
As my time in Kannur came to a close I could feel the deep internal shifts. I was so much less anxious: I felt softer, more open, I was less lopsided. And I was laughing more; I was just being. I came to understand that my previous almost-constant low-grade anxiety (which had been present since the accident at nineteen, and which had worsened over time – and after more accidents) was not something that I needed to judge, but a natural side effect of the many physical traumas I had endured. And, although I never did to practice the outwardly physical forms and movements Kalari while there, Sherifka told me the secret at the center of the practice: be humble and strike like a tiger. I’m still working on it.
Dearbhla Kelly is a Los Angeles-based Yoga teacher, writer and philosopher: durgayoga.com.
By Dearbhla Kelly
Photos by Amir Magal
Dearbhla Kelly is Los Angeles-based writer and yoga teacher, she leads workshops and retreats worldwide.