I can't imagine what I could still possibly get out of Buffy, but once again I'm watching the series in its entirety. Right now I'm at the end of season 4, where they go to college. In the penultimate episode of the season, Buffy and her pals use a spell and a magic gourd to unite their powers so that Buffy can kill an uberdemon-man-machine named Adam. As always, I cried. Everytime the theme of the show runs to the friends' love for each other, I cry. Actually I cry at the end of nearly every episode. After a week of new doctors, teaching, yet another strange experience with the healer, and hurting, I was barely mobile on the couch this afternoon watching this, tears streaming down my face. Then I turned off the TV, got back into bed, fell asleep and had a weird sex dream about Spike.
So the healer--I'm going to talk about him. Basically what he does for me is clean my aura over the phone. I understand if you need to stop reading now--I'm fine if you need to go read a blog written by a sane person who takes pills when she gets sick or does exercises or whatever. Ok, see you later.
For those of you who are ok with this, or just want to rubberneck at the crazy lady, read on. My first session with him was exhausting and odd and I didn't quite believe it, even though my pain did go away briefly. The second was similar, only more satisfying, as it went slightly deeper. Last night was very intense and was the first session that caused me to disappear into a sort of trance for a while. My pain went away. Or not away, exactly...my relationship to it changed. It's hard to explain. It's like the core of the pain is gone. The pain is still there but it doesn't have to bother me. It can't really disappear because my sciatic nerve is pinched between my hip joints, which sounds horrible and feels about twice as bad as it sounds. But my relationship to this idea is changing.
The process is called clearing. I do most of it on my own, but the doctor is able to help remove some of the "dirt" for me as well. The general principle is that all humans are filled with a divine light, but this light can be buried under layers and layers of emotional pain. When the emotional pain is too great, it manifests as physical pain. In my case, I have a severe physical problem (several in fact) that must be treated physically, but I am learning that the physical problem was caused or at least aided by this emotional crap. If you believe in chakras, the 2nd chakra (lower back and pelvic region) is where many people hold emotional pain related to sex and finances. It's a weird combo, I know. I won't go into my problems, but they are legion, as you may have guessed. What I'm starting to believe is that I can probably fix my physical problem with chiropractors and physical therapy, but if I don't treat the emotional stuff, it's going to probably attack me again and again, and most likely in the same place as it's been doing for the last 10 years or so.
So the clearing process consists of journaling out loud--dumping everything out that is causing me fear, pain, anger, etc. The doctor, after doing a reading on me (which he does by doing this weird breathing thing which at first I was scared was him masturbating--I know, I know, but I'm starting to be ok with it) will give me a prompt based on what he can sense is going on with me. They have been pretty basic (I'm afraid because...). I keep repeating the phrase and whatever comes to mind until it empties out. Then I asssess my pain with him. He always knows exactly where my pain is--if I say it's at 4 on a 0-10 scale, he might say, Well, I think it's a little closer to 3.5. And I usually agree. He's also been able, over the phone, to tell if I'm moving, sitting, or standing; my weight; that my body doesn't process alcohol well; and that I come from a fundalmentalist background.
So this can go on for two hours or so. Last night we got into this very difficult stuff, and I felt like I had tapped into a well that I've been ignoring for years and years and years. All of this stuff spilled out, trancelike. I talked in a weird monotone that didn't feel like me for almost a half an hour. But it was me. It also may have been, in part, a part of me from a former life (we get into past lives stuff with this therapy, a concept I've always been ok with). At the end of the session, he told me that he saw my back bathed in light. I also felt like something old and hard and painful had been chipped away. This kind of surgery I can deal with.
It's so weird to me that I can't believe in Jesus--can't believe that he was a real guy who died and came back to life--the thing my family clings to the way I cling to my dog when I'm crying at Buffy. But I believe in this. I believe in it because it feels real to me--traveling through the spirals of my soul with this amazing guide is true to me. Everytime I've worked with him, I'm suddenly aware of how vast the universe, time, and space are--how our daily experiences on earth are just a crumb of what we could actually experience in the universe. I feel more like a poet doing this work than I ever could by writing words down. Just this notion alone is enough to heal me some. It also exhausts me. Coming back to this world is very hard for me. I've spent most of my life since childhood trying to hide in one way or another. I've done a lot of that hiding in pain. Light is difficult because you can't really hide in it. And the lighter I get, the harder it will be to hide.
I know it's the archetypal imagery in Buffy that keeps me engaged with it. It's so comforting and familiar. It was so strange to see some of this same imagery inside myself--there are temples and castles and weird winged creatures in there. This imagery isn't just mine--it's ours, the collective unconcious. I felt really strongly during my second session my connection with all beings in the universe. It sucks that I can't walk around feeling this way all of the time--it is a totally powerful feeling. I guess people experience this same kind of imagery when they meditate. Of course, I'll do anything to not meditate--I've got a whole system of distractions. I can see now that addictions are really complicated (disguised as simple) ways of avoiding the truth. I will do just about anything to avoid looking at the truth, especially, for some reason, if that truth is something I actually desire. Having what I want is terrifying. I don't really know what this means, but it's where I'm going to start.
Oh, and PS--Sunshine (my new physical therapist) is amazing. We compared New Englanders to Midwesterns while she did traction on me. Traction is a wonderful, wonderful thing.
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