Namaste

A recommendation was made for me to consider sending in a resume for a 3-hour cleaning job. I was trying to get out of the village in which I had finished three plus hours of work when a taxi driver stopped for me. He was going in the opposite direction, but insisted that the detour would only take a little time. I sat near him and he inquired whether I had another job to go to in a hurry. No. Asked what I was going to do. Go home and sleep. It was then that he advised that I could be earning extra cash by taking up the charwoman post. I was silent. He has been observing my goings and comings and recognized such to be different from the Nurses, so he speculated that I must be cleaning. I tried for my softest tone as I told him that I do therapy. Oooh! End of story, he took out a CD from a case, put it in the deck and told me he has some nice music that I would like. Yolanda Adams…Sight Beyond What I See. I guess the job will now be recommended to someone else.

When I did reach the EMR a passengerless maxi stopped for me. After our salutations the driver asked how was my husband. We spent the next few seconds just looking at each other. I was wondering what he was talking about and in my failure to process the answer I could only stare. He then asked that I tell him my husband’s name as he could not remember it. I continued staring. He needed to work out his salvation as I was in no position to save him. Next came the name of the lady who’s supposed to be my husband’s aunt who lived near his aunt, through whom he knew my husband. Wow. The lady’s name did not ring a bell either. I told him I did not know any of the characters of which he spoke and he seemed surprised, and as if to trigger my memory told me of how he attended our wedding about 20 years ago and that the last time he saw my husband was when he was in hospital, which is why he asked how is he, he wanted to know if things are back to normal.

Ok, we need to stop this. I tried to be emphatic in my declaration that I am not whoever he images me to be, and he apologized, mumbled a bit, then went silent. When he spoke again was to express that for a moment he was concerned that we (the other couple actually) had broken up as he and his wife are still holding the fort and she would have been very disappointed to hear of our split. Really? People are still staying together because they don’t want to disappoint other people who do not put food in their mouths or wipe the end where it makes it way out? His eyes widened. I told him forgive me, but I think we are channels of love, and when a channel becomes choked and no love passes to the other side there is no obligation to stay and stagnate, or even work overtime at clearing the channel since both parties should work at keeping their channels clear, not waiting to it to shut off then to try to reopen it.

My dear brother took me down Bible Lane and I heard the whole story of a woman’s place. So let me get this straight… The man is the head of the woman, and the eyes are in the head, but he did not see the relationship going to the dogs, and when it does, and the woman steps aside, he can suddenly see clearly why she should return to her position? His eyes ought to be dug out. He said I sounded like one of those women who fight for rights, and if we have to fight for it, it does not belong to us. I rebutted that I am simply one, not one of those, so I don’t have to fight for anything. And while he might be right that if we have to fight for it it’s probably not ours, it could also be that it is a game society is playing on women to make us believe that we don’t have what we by default possess. Hence it is the system that creates these ridiculous distractions to keep women looking outside themselves for what is really inside. We drove in silence.

Then he mentioned Adam and Eve. How it is that folks who have never resided in that garden always project themselves as some authority on what transpired there? I listened. Again the woman is lesser, weaker, and all the other things we have heard that makes a person totally in need of guidance so that their susceptibility to taste a forbidden fruit is stymied. And for all our evolution he deduced that women retain those characteristics which make the man work overtime to keep us in line, thus preventing their perpetual fall. I asked if he ever considered that we are being hoodwinked. Maybe men are really the women on the principle that woman was taken out of man and man was left with a void. Yet it is the man who has the projection and the woman with the void. Weird, ain’t? Perhaps our scribes had trouble with their pens and it has left men are fighting hard to retain the ‘head’ role that was never theirs. Names were switched of what is female and what is male to facilitate the continued usurping of authority. He asked where I got that from. Where do I ever get anything from?

The silence was pregnant until I got to my destination. Like a baby in the womb there is only so much we can grow in a comfort zone, hence doubt is an integral part of any belief system to facilitate comparative analysis which aids our growth. I love the Garden of Eden story as much as I love being female, but they can also be considered thought forms. If ten persons fill out application forms for a company it is most unlikely that the details would be the same on each. Similarly, the thoughts we put into these thought forms don’t have to be in sync, yet we insist that that is the correct way to fill the forms. With three scores and ten years to live some of the details on each form may change multiple times. There is pencil and eraser. Only God’s words are yea and amen. The rest of us have flexibility. Each day I can have a new view on that Garden Story, e.g. everything God created He saw as good except that the man was alone. So it was good that in paradise there was a pitbull called a serpent, and it was good that the woman was conveniently taken out of the man so that she could be mauled by it. Kinda freaky…that God has foresight, but chose not to that serpent on a leash outside the garden gate.

And freaky in all forms and fashion continues to this day. A few weeks ago I was asked to go visit a patient with another Therapist. I agreed. Neither of us had seen the patient before. He was hospitalized after experiencing a stroke and was recently discharged. He is still bedridden and being fed through the nasal passage, but his Doctor suggested therapy so we ventured out. When we arrived we were escorted to his room. We expected the tube from his nose, but there was also one from his pelvis. We took turns introducing ourselves. His eyes shifted back and forth taking note of us. I then went to stand at the foot of the bed. The Therapist laid out his massage stuff and looked all set. He then positioned himself near the client’s upper body and began explaining the massage routine he proposed to use. No response. He then sought to establish a code so that two blinks meant one thing and one blink meant another. Right. Then he continued to explain that he will us light pressure, etc. etc.

 

Then he began to speak quickly and I told him he would need to go that over slowly so that the client could clearly hear him. He did. When he was through he told the client that he needed a moment and he came toward me, being near the doorway, to get air. He was facing me and backing the client when he asked: You feel that? I asked: that what? He could not explain. His anatomy and physiology vocabulary lacked terms to appropriately describe what he was experiencing. He took some deep breaths. He was sweating like a horse and looking at me for some validation that he was not off his rockers. I told him I will go get him some water. When I returned with a bottle he drank about half of it and sat for a moment. There went the first ten minutes that I had agreed to spend with him and he had not started the massage. After a few sips he felt better and was able to start. He worked quite well and I advised him to take a few sips of water between sections. Thirty-two minutes into the session I picked up my handbag to leave. I reminded him that there is something in every space whether or not he acknowledges such. I did go to the headside of the client to assess the energy there and distinctly felt something reaching from him and latching onto me, squeezing.

Having recounted this experience in class, a student shared her story. She had moved to a new apartment and the first night there she went to bed and heard a woman crying. She became alert, listening. It was weird because the crying was taking place right near her on the bed, but she could see no one. The crying continued each night. Then one day she was having a bath when the light went out. She wrapped herself and came out to find the other parts of the apartment lit. She turned off the switch and when the turned it on again there was light. Returned to the bath. Out again. She tried to process the happenings logically, but by the second week she had four different events occurring as a norm and she started looking for a place. By week three a whispering neighbor inquired how she was making out. She asked why the woman was interested and was told that a lady was murdered in the house. All the tenants before her complained of strange experiences and each left in short order. By week four she had moved.

Her dramatic account evoked laughter and raised hairs. Then we settled down and considered the need for better awareness when we do outcalls. Physical danger we expect, but suppose the student was a client and a Therapist had done an outcall massage to relieve her of the stress she felt was causing hallucinations, how different is it if when he/she returns home there is an invisible woman crying in their bed as against returning home to find that they are experiencing depression like the client did, or pain in the specific area that the client did? And do we really need to make outcalls to experience such exchanges? So while appropriate use of techniques and postures can be taught, we practically have to find our own way when it comes to the other postures that are needed to survive the various environments in which we work. By the same token, we should ensure that our environment is of such that the client need not have similar fears. Someone remarked about working with a Therapist who burns camphor and eucalyptus oil in her place all day. More pleasant aromatherapy blends are known, but when we move from the scientific properties of those oils to the mystical ones, we’d have to consider that the Therapist knows something about something. If you come to my place and see square camphor in the corners on the floor, will you understand, or will suspicion arise?

Two freaky updates. Remember the blog with the Therapist who has the large fibroid? Well she started treatment with a Naturopath, then conversation led to conversation and she was advised to consider treatment with a man who does not charge for his services. Whatever you carry for him, he accepts and blesses. So off she went. He did his own assessment and came up with similar physical conclusions. Treatment started. During the third session he ventured a different conversation. He advised that her problem is partly due to the presence of certain an entity in her womb. He can see it. She promptly told him that she does not believe in those things, besides it is not possible as she has been in Church all her life so no ungodly thing could be living inside her. He did not argue, but politely told her that it has been there on her first visit and still is and he mentioned it as he wanted to pray with her and was hoping that it would be a prayer of agreement. She said she can’t agree, but he could go ahead and pray. So he prayed. She is now hesitant about returning. She knows me long enough not to be bothered by my opinion. Here goes… Not all knowledge is good. Thus it has to unfold itself slowly, as our capacity to absorb it grows. Clearly the man knows this, so he took his time broaching the conversation. Neo did not have a bug until he was debugged. We grasp so tightly to our goody concept of ourselves that we are never ready to hear otherwise. Our presence in Church and our relationship with God are not synonymous. What sincere efforts are made to recognize our insanity and remedy it? Maybe the guy gets off on seeing what is not there, so she can kill the messenger, but if the message is true it will eventually witness her acknowledgment.

Next update… After the last blog a reader decided that her lovemaking session could benefit from a time-boost and made efforts in that direction by adding some play. I like use of play because it is said that a game has rules, but play does not. Children play until they are exhausted, unless you call them to engage in some other activity. There is no sense of time with play, it is fun and you get lost in the moment and that moment goes on and on. So having experienced the initiation of their intimate moment by her spouse, and knowing that penetration would soon follow their bout of kisses, she waited until he was almost there and lovingly stopped him. She suggested that he needed an invitation to enter the door. He was gamed and it went something like this…

Knock, knock. He said
Who’s there? She responded
He identified himself and indicated that he would like to enter.
She advised that she was merely the butler and cannot permit such.
He asked for the lady of the house and she advised that the lady was in her chamber adorning herself, so he would have to wait.
I can do that. He responded.
The foreplay…which was going on all the while…continued.
Having gained a few more minutes she inquired whether he would like to spend some time in the garden while he waited.
The garden was perceived as the pubis and he redirected his kisses that way.
Before the sprinkler came on she advised that the lady of the house was approaching and that he should return to the door in order to greet her.
He changed positions again, waiting just outside the door.
Between kisses she changed her tone and identified herself as the lady of the house.
He expressed pleasure at meeting her.
She inquired how she may be of assistance to him.
Fuck yuh man, that’s what I want you to do.

Dopamine raising…