A massage table is usually associated with physical healing.
Muscles relax. Breathing slows. Tension releases. The body becomes quieter.
But in The Massage Medium, AurA describes an experience in which touch became the doorway to something she understood as spiritual communication.
The experience occurred in 1991 while she was working at a salon.
Her massage room was small and ordinary. There were no elaborate spiritual surroundings. No special ceremony. Hairdryers operated nearby, conversations continued, and the ordinary rhythm of salon life surrounded her.
Then, while working with an elderly client, something changed.
AurA describes entering a deeply focused state while massaging. Her mind became quiet, her attention became concentrated, and she experienced what she later described as a trance-like state—not unconsciousness, but heightened receptivity.
Then she heard a voice.
“How’s my little sunshine girl?”
The voice was clear and affectionate.
It belonged, according to her experience, to an older man with a warm and joyful personality.
AurA did not see him physically. Instead, she experienced his presence through the voice and the emotional quality accompanying it.
At first, she didn't know what to do.
This was different from intuition.
She had already experienced intuitive sensations during her massage work—impressions about people's emotional states or where they carried tension.
But this felt like communication.
The phrase continued to repeat.
Eventually, after the massage, AurA decided she needed to share what she had received.
She carefully asked the woman whether she had a father or grandfather who used to call her “his little sunshine girl.”
The woman immediately recognized the phrase.
It was what her grandfather had called her.
The emotional response was immediate.
The woman explained that her grandfather had been deeply important to her and that she had continued sensing his presence after his death.
For AurA, the significance of the experience wasn't simply that the message was specific.
It was the peace that followed.
That distinction became important throughout her work.
She writes that the purpose was never about proving something to skeptics. It was about service.
That perspective changes the way we understand the story.
The experience wasn't treated as a performance.
It wasn't something AurA deliberately manufactured.
She describes herself instead as a conduit—a person who quieted her own thoughts enough to allow something else to come through.
The metaphor of a conductor is particularly meaningful.
An electrical conductor doesn't create the electricity. It allows a current to move through it.
AurA eventually came to view her role similarly.
The massage itself became part of the process because physical touch helped her become deeply present. Her hands worked through learned technique while her mind entered a quieter state.
This raises a fascinating question about the relationship between body and awareness.
How often do we actually become fully present?
Modern life constantly pulls attention outward. Notifications, conversations, responsibilities, schedules, and worries compete for mental space.
But the massage experience described in this book begins with quiet.
The body becomes the anchor.
The mind becomes still.
And in that stillness, AurA experiences information she believes could not have originated from ordinary thought.
Whether readers interpret her experience spiritually or personally, one principle remains central:
Deep presence can change the way we experience ourselves and the people around us.
For AurA, touch became more than a physical technique.
It became a language.
