I Have Enough

Ichinohe is one of my best friends. He is a healer. He heals the body, of course, but much more profoundly the heart and the soul. He gives massages, shiatsu, acupuncture and moksa. But more than that, he gives his full gentle presence to anyone whom he serves.

For a Japanese Ichinohe’s work is unusual for several reasons. First, usually masseurs are blind. (1) In the entire northeast region of Japan, where Ichinohe lives, there are only three schools for sighted masseurs. Also in this collective culture a person who goes his own way, as Ichinohe has, is very unique.

I asked Ichinohe how he had chosen his profession. He told me his father had influenced him tremendously. He had fought in China in the Second World War. When that debacle ended, he was sent to Siberia for two years to do heavy labor. During that time, his entire attitude towards life changed. He had lost many friends; and his own life had been reduced to the shock of barest essentials. He had learned through excruciating suffering what was important and what was not. He knew survival was basic; the rest was luxury.

Ichinohe’s father had married before the war, but after his return to Japan he was so changed that he and his wife parted ways. That was quite extraordinary at that time, especially in deeply rural areas. Later he married a widow and had two sons, the eldest of which was Ichinohe.

By almost immutable custom, the eldest son follows in his father’s footsteps, at least until very recently. Ichinohe’s father had eventually worked in an office for the local government, a highly structured, almost ritualized sort of work. He spent years observing his eldest son and knew he would never survive in such a restrictive world. So, out of the maturity of his life’s difficult experiences, he suggested to his son that he choose work in which he would be self-reliant. Other than that, he let his son be free as to what form of work that would be.

From the time he was a child, Ichinohe’s greatest joy came from making others happy. He had a handicapped classmate, whom most kids tormented, but Ichinohe genuinely enjoyed being his friend and helping him out. He liked to care for sick animals, too, but also loved being silly and making people laugh.

Heeding his father’s advice and knowing his love of bringing happiness into the lives of others, he decided to enter the world of healers. It was joyous work for him, but also as he told me, “My main equipment is my hands. So as long as I am healthy, I will have work.”

After schooling, he was an assistant to a doctor for two years, and then he set out on his own. Rather than short, emergency fixes, he works with people for years. Some clients go once a week, others once a month, but everyone is in for the long haul. I myself have been going to him monthly for eighteen years. His purpose is to even out energy, to keep chi flowing, and realign bones so as to prevent illness and to enhance the health the body and psyche already have. Of course, he does special work for specific cases. When I had an automobile accident, for example, he saw me immediately and attended to my needs according to that emergency situation.

His office is simple, yet very welcoming. There is no fancy equipment: just a small altar with a Buddha image, incense and candles, a massage table, a small table for his acupuncture and moksa supplies, a mirror, and a basket for his clients’ clothes. That is it. Sometimes he has soft music playing, sometimes not. The room’s light is always dim. It is sacred space and all who enter feel it immediately.

Ichinohe’s work is very individual, so I wondered how he developed his techniques, which indeed has evolved over the years. He said his clients’ needs were his best teachers. His longing to help them and his keen attunement to their bodies and psyches are enough for him to intuit what to do. He added that sometimes his dreams or mediations told him. But also curiously, so do movies. He sees movies as pure projections of people’s ideas. So, by watching them he can learn to observe his own mind and get ideas about how it operates. And that way he can better understand others.

So many people these days have a raw, unsettled longing for something more, something better. But Ichinohe lives almost completely in the present moment. Giving massages is enough. Talking to clients is enough. Reading philosophy or fiction is enough. Playing on the computer an hour a day is enough. Going for hikes alone is enough. He does not feel the need to start a school or to become famous and recognized. Living his “ordinary” life is enough.

He lives this day, this moment, this “I am”. He almost never travels. His physical world takes in a very small circumference. Yet, his heart and mind seem to encompass the entire universe. When I asked him if he wanted things, he said, “The Cosmos contains everything. So I, Ichinohe, need nothing. I already have it because it exists. I don’t need things.” Words of a man with a truly porous identity. Yet, also solid, secure and content within himself.

Yes, Ichinohe is one of a kind. He attributes it to his father’s upbringing. And even that attitude, I find, is one of deep humility. Life is lived through him. He gets out of the way. And therefore, he is a healer in the deepest and truest sense of that calling.

* * * * *

(1) Or recently they are young woman trained for trendy “health” centers that charge a fortune for minimally good service. That sort of place is popular with fashion conscious young adults. And of course, those young women are not actually healers or real masseurs at all.