I may be tense, but at least my heart is open

Tonight after work, I got a massage.

My masseur (he is male: 60-something, gray-haired, gentle; why does "masseur" always have such kinky undertones?) is a practitioner of reiki, something we've talked about but never really tried. Today, because of a couple of things I told him, he gave it a shot.

Based on what I told him, he worked on my large intestine, my heart, and my lungs (he had some name for what he was doing and what those three organs, combined, are called, but honestly, I don't remember). He talked about acupuncture and a little bit about what he believes and how this shit is all supposed to work. It was interesting, but a bit much to be learning on the massage table: I trust him, and let him do his thing.

Midway through, wait. Midway through that sentence, Patrick called from Santa Clara, and, a good 20, 25 minutes have passed. I've lost my train of thought. Midway through, what? We talked about didgeridoos (he collects and plays them), the flute convention... Oh, never mind. Let's just finish up this story about my most recent massage with these words:

Somehow, based on whatever procedure he was working on me, or maybe based on nothing, he told me that he could tell that I have an "open heart," that I'm interested in stuff and learning... I'm kind of stuck on the concept of having an open heart.

I don't know this is a real thing or what. I'm accepting that an open heart is a good thing, but I don't know. I feel some skepticsm. OK: a lot of skepticsm. But who can say?