Where We Touch
A 24-arc narrative about an actress who follows a whisper of calling into the healing arts. Told in brief, intimate episodes, the series traces the stories held in bodies, the memories carried in touch, and the way one woman's vocation becomes a bridge between art, healing, and the sacred.
All episodes written and performed by Judy Malloy.
Edited and mastered by John E. Brady.
Written text edited by Susan Warrick.
Where We Touch
Episode 13 -BEARING WITNESS TO A TRANSFORMATIVE HEALING
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Honestly, I paused before writing and publishing today's episode .
It tells the story of a session that has become extraordinary in my 30 years of practice. I have never experienced anything like it again in the 25 years since it happened.
I am including it to remind myself, and I hope anyone listening, that there are moments when we are invited to step out of our comfort zones, listen to guidance or direction we might receive, and follow it.
Honestly, none of us knows how your lives might touch another's.
We never know how listening and responding might place us in a position of helping someone, even a stranger, to heal.
New Episodes will be released on the 1st and the 15th of every month of 2026.
Please share with others that might find a blessing...
Hi, I'm Judy Malloy. Welcome to Where We Touch, a podcast about healing, story, and moments of connection. Sometimes things we can't fully comprehend happen in our lives. Maybe it's an emotional shift. Maybe it's a new understanding of something. Or maybe it is a deep and inexplicable physical healing. Today I share such a story. This episode is about trusting the innate intelligence of the body. It's about the humility of touch and recognizing there are rare and sacred moments when we realize we are not the ones doing the healing. We are simply there to behold it. Episode thirteen. Bearing witness to a transformative healing. I almost hesitate to tell this story, as it is miraculous to me. I can't explain what occurred. I am only able to recount the events of what I thought would be a rather ordinary massage session with a new client. In the first year of establishing my practice in England, I had a woman client who felt her husband would benefit greatly from my work. So she made an appointment for him late on a Friday afternoon in October. Christopher arrives at my office promptly. I conduct my standard intake and have an initial conversation with him about what he hopes a massage might provide for him. He says he is under quite a lot of stress and would appreciate a session that might reduce that and the muscular tension that accompanies it. Quite a straightforward request. I leave the treatment room so he can undress and get onto the table. He begins face down. I massage his back, his neck, the back of his legs, and do some gentle passive stretches with him. Christopher checks in with me often about the work he is receiving. Yes, yes, that's perfect. Oh, could you stay there a bit longer? Oh that's exactly it. I appreciate his feedback. After about twenty minutes I ask him to roll onto his back. I place a bolster under his knees and a small cushion under his head. When he is comfortable, I continue to massage his arms, his hands, his legs, and his feet. Again, he is quick with verbal communication, and I adapt according to his needs and preferences. As I begin to walk to the head of the table for work on his skull and the back of his neck to end our session, I hear a very distinctive voice inside my head. Put your hand on his abdomen. Lying supine, his entire body is covered by the top sheet and blanket, and I will need to cover his chest with a towel and undrape his torso. None of this is difficult, but I personally don't like my abdomen touched during massage ever. I find it makes me feel vulnerable and oddly exposed in a way I'm not comfortable with. I instruct any massage therapist working on me to absolutely not work my abdomen. So this internal guidance shocks me. Abdominal work is nothing I ever offer unless it is directly requested by a client. But this internal message demands my full attention. I gently place a warm towel on top of the folded sheet at his chest. Holding the top of the towel, I gently tug the sheet beneath, which exposes his midriff. Place your right hand on the tissue above his liver comes a further instruction. I do this. Immediately my hand feels as though it is magnetized, as though something inside him is pulling my energy deeper and deeper into his belly. My palm gets warm and sweat begins to pour down the back of my neck and along the entire length of my spine. My heart is pounding. Very slowly begin to move your hand towards the ceiling, the voice instructs. When I begin to lift my fingers, the force which had initially compelled my hand downward intensifies. The voice doesn't need to tell me to move slowly, as it is impossible to do anything else. It feels as though I am lifting an incredibly heavy weight from within Christopher. My hand begins to tremble with the tension of remaining connected to him. Just as my forearm begins to cramp, something gives way. My hand snaps up towards the ceiling, and I see a spiraling swirl of dark green and black flecks lift into the air and disappear. It reminds me of a murmuration of starlings, beautifully lyrical. Christopher's eyes, which have been closed, pop wide open. What just happened? He asks in a hushed voice. Honestly, I have no idea. Nothing like this has ever happened to me in a massage session before. I answer. Christopher came to see me about a month later. He shares with me something he hadn't said in his intake. He had been diagnosed with colon cancer and was terribly stressed because there were secondaries in his liver. I went for a follow-up scan last week. My liver is completely tumor free. My physician has no explanation, he said. No explanation at all. We stand together in silence and in wonder. Maybe you can spend a few more moments with me before you go. If you're comfortable doing so, close your eyes. If not, try to soften your gaze and allow them to find gentle rest. Breathe in and out in and out. Take just a minute to feel the weight of your body resting on whatever is supporting you the sofa, the floor, your bed, the earth. Allow that to comfort you. Know that you are held in this moment, in this exact moment of your life. You are held. And now I invite you to bring your awareness to your hands, allowing them to be soft and open, not grasping or tightly held. I wonder, are they cold? Do they feel warm? Can you feel your own pulse? Are they tense? Just stay and observe and notice if anything shifts while you do so. As you move into your day, I invite you to stay present, to stay open to the possibility of quiet, everyday miracles and unexpected moments of grace. Maybe something heavy can be lifted from your heart. Maybe something painful can find ease. Or maybe something injured can be made whole. Not because of anything you do, but rather because you choose to gently observe what shifts when you pay attention. Sometimes healing begins when we choose to be deeply present and responsive. And sometimes we are privileged to feel the exact moment it happens. Thanks for listening to Where We Touch. Written and performed by me, Judy Malloy. Edited and mastered by John E. Brady. This is a work of creative nonfiction. The events are portrayed to the best of my memory. While all the stories in this podcast are true, some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved.