April 11th, 2001

(no subject)

Just had the worst chest pains I've ever felt, right over my heart.

I've been thinking about calling 911, but I'd rather make it interesting.

If I die of a heart attack tonight, you'll know why. ; )

(no subject)

“That's what our relationship is like.. in the deli of my heart, your number is the only one called,” I say to her.
“Awww,” she replies.

(no subject)

I've been avoiding myself a lot lately.

With television and smoking.. radio and livejournal.. but strangely, not work. <shrug>

And I finally got some sleep today, after Lauren assured me it was okay to do that instead of update the site.

And I worked from home all day while watching a very decent pirated vcd image of Traffic.

But I did leave the house for my healing appointment at Ashara's, who I haven't seen in a several weeks.

It's really hard to explain what happens during a treatment because it's a personal thing. And I don't mind making it my personal life public. But it can be really hard to communicate these experiences..

Like I don't cry a lot, but tonight when I was thinking about how little of what I want to make in this life I'll be able to, I wept hardcore.

And when she stuck a needle in the sole of my left foot, I begin to hyperventilate to numb and escape the pain or “moving energy” as we say.

And the whole time I'm covering my face with my hands. Half shielding myself from her judgement and half containing my tears from streaming down my face. So I calm down and let myself fall asleep.

But when I awake she asks me all these questions about how I'm feeling and I don't know how I'm feeling, so I assess myself and say "Empty" and for the rest of the session we're addressing how to fill this "Emptiness" with Allah. And that can mean a lot of repetitive prayer, which I used to hate, but am growing less snotty towards.

<sigh>

Another thing is that when I meditate, I keep a pen and notebook right next to me, so I can write down what comes to mind, so I can let it go and continue on with the meditation. But at treatment, I don't get this luxury, so I'm stuck repeating phrases and summaries of ideas in my head like an odd guy on the city bus.

So I came fragmented, unsettled and left pretty blue, but in a much better place.

This entry was not written because of a single demand by a certain healer-type in Columbia, Maryland. Neener! = P