When I first trained as a massage therapist in the early 1990s, I was living in an ashram (a center for spiritual learning) in India. In those days, we gave our massage sessions on the roof of Krishna House, a building in the heart of the ashram campus. Shade was provided by a temporary tent-like roof, but the sides of the session spaces were left open. It was a magical place to be giving massages, right up in the tree tops. Music was provided courtesy of the birds and the breeze rustling the leaves, interspersed with meditation music from Buddha Hall drifting up to us throughout the day. Sometimes a raven or peacock would take a walk along the boundary wall where we kept our oil bottles, occasionally sending one crashing to the walkway below! This was a very special environment in which to be learning the art of massage, supported by other spiritual seekers. Whenever I find myself losing my center in the hustle of doing business in the U.S., I connect myself back to the inner silence I experienced giving massages in India.