I see the Intuitive Acupuncturist this afternoon; I’m curious what she’ll read in my body. Three weeks ago, I teased her about the pain – so not my thing. I don’t recall the gist of the conversation, now, in terms of what was actually said about my psychospiritual being. (Note: “psychospiritual” is a term from the Alexander Technique. Kate would always ask, “How’s your psychospiritual being today?” I don’t know if the IA would use this concept herself.)
Actually, now that I pause (considering how to return from that digression, haven’t seen Kate for a year or more), it might be this was the day the IA mentioned shame. It didn’t resonate for me at the time and she said, “Sometimes I speak too soon.” My puzzled question at the time was, “Is that for me or for me with others?” (I recall Spare Man telling me, “You make people feel bad.” gulp)
That day (only three weeks ago!) the IA put needles only in my left side, ankle and wrist. The one in my ankle nearly sent me off the table, literally. Thank god the pang is brief. She left me “to cook” for however long, and what ensued was an intense awareness of “action” in my body. I explained it to her when she returned. “It felt as if the entire left side of my body filled with light. Not only was my entire internal space bright and clear, I was also light in mass.” What was particularly striking was how transparent, clean, and open my left side was in contrast with my right. The right half of my bodily interior was dark, heavy, opaque. Nothing going on; no movement whatsoever. Still. When I became aware of the sharp bisection I started trying to draw light from the left side over to the right, to permeate the darkness.
“See, you’re good at this shit,” the IA teased back. I told her I still blog about her, and she said she thought it was an interesting bit of synchrony that her initials were IA, since her field of study is called Integrated Awareness. (Related (?) article on somat awareness.) I’ve been having more synchronic moments in the past month or so than ever in my life.
At my appointment two weeks ago, things were radically different. I could not stay present with my body at all. I barely even felt the needles. We spoke (ah, this is when the shame conversation occurred. The previous week I had sensed that I had re-found my ground after the disruption of my nephew’s death.) I’d found myself suddenly feeling suicidal again, being barely able to cope with a round of emotional pain triggered by a new romantic attraction. (“That’s an odd response,” commented the IA. Later she said I had to work through some notions concerning home and belonging.)
Under the circumstances (only two weeks ago!), the IA suggested I simply concentrate on doing body scans and notice what was going on. I spent the half-hour or so laying there watching her bird mobile rotate, as I practiced counting to ward against the tears seeping down my cheeks. I could not fix on a reason for my angst. Indeed, I could not even examine it.
Lying here awake in these wee hours, the concept of an eclipse came to mind. It is as if I had my sights set clear on a particular source of light-giving energy and another celestial object moved into that visual path, obstructing the view (obliterating the original object?) and casting me into limbo. “The substance which separates dimensions. It primarily consists of delta particles. A hole in space-time is actually a hole in the limbo.” (Last definition.)
I have barely dreamed since. What I have done, however (and remarkably, if I do say so myself), is ‘step up‘ to the tumult in a consistently humane way. I know this all has to do with gravity, but I’m hoping sleep will now come and I can save that for another post.