The first time I met her, I asked if she missed her husband. After a brief pause, she said “no.” That surprised me, but it was a very reassuring no. She said she loved him and did all she could to care for him while he was alive and healing from his illness.
A few nights ago, she and I were talking in the kitchen. She’d just finished packing for her trip and was leaving the next day. We are both healers, so our conversations usually revolve around healing. She asked me how I learned the healing method I offer. I told her it just came to me. It felt more like remembering how to do it again in this lifetime. That I never learned or studied. She grew curious. I offered her a quick demo of my work. She was delighted.
We cleared some floor space and made it cozy with soft lighting. I brought my speaker and, intuitively, chose a heart chakra frequency track from the many songs on my session playlist. I had her lie down on a yoga mat and sprayed natural jasmine-scented water onto her, knowing she liked the scent.
I got to work. I normally start with the lowest chakra, the root, and slowly move up to the crown, connecting with each energy point and having a silent conversation with it. Unlike most people I’ve worked with, her lower chakras were stable. When I moved up to her heart, I felt warmth in my heart and tears began to flow from my eyes. She was still grieving. Of course she is. Her heart was crying and feeling so many things. Then I moved up to her head. I always make little circles between the brows with my fingers. That’s where babies like to be massaged. When I did that, I felt her inner child yearning to play. It was as if the broken heart and the playful inner child were working together to create healing.
Her daughter had just moved out shortly before I arrived at the house. For the first time, she is enjoying her life as a single woman living on her own. After the session, we reflected. She told me she could cry at any moment from grief. She told me she’s cared for others all her life. I could feel her desire to have fun and to pour into herself.
I keep looking at my junior prom picture. I found it on my drive recently. I’m wearing a form-fitting, deep-cut V-neck halter dress in shimmery red. Floor-length. I’m wearing 3-inch-heeled vampy red patent-leather pumps with ankle straps. I’d gone to a hair salon to dye my hair black and get a chin-length bob for the occasion. My date is dressed in all black. Black pants, black shoes, a black shirt with the top buttons open, and a black tank top underneath. He’s wearing a tasteful silver necklace. His black hair is slicked back to show his forehead, and he’s wearing tinted gradient glasses. In the picture, he’s doing the bridal carry. Both of us are smiling big. He got us some special corsage and boutonniere made with black flowers. And to tie our outfits together, he got me a black feathered boa to flaunt and layer on my all-red look. I love how fun and flamboyant we were together. We danced all night. He was an excellent dancer. We had sex all night. On the bed. In the bathtub. Any surface we could find. And we joked and laughed all night.
I recently spent a week at a friend couple’s house. They go back and forth between two cities that are drivable from each other. I've known the woman for a long time. The man, I’ve only met him once or twice, just exchanging basic greetings. The first night, three of us had dinner together. It was a pleasant time. They were telling me about how they were doing as a fairly new couple. He jokingly said to me, “I like that she thinks I am always right.” She laughed. I didn’t laugh because I didn’t particularly find it funny. I found it icky. Throughout dinner, I was picking up on his fragile ego and controlling tendencies. I wished and wondered if she was aware of these qualities in him. A couple of days passed. She told me they decided to leave town a bit early. I immediately sensed he didn’t want to be near me. He knew I saw what he tried so hard to mask. Despite the cool-guy image he presented to the world, he seemed awkward and uncomfortable in his own skin. It was painful to watch. I’ve been there, too. Back then, being around someone who was unapologetically real was intimidating. I couldn’t bear it. Like they were piercing the blind spot I so desperately wanted to ignore. I hope this man heals. I hope he will learn I am not his enemy, but he is.
When I was sitting at the bar, two women were next to me on my left. Then another woman joined. They grabbed the stool on my right and moved it to my left so they could sit together. I was already settled in and didn’t wanna move for them. They said “sorry” and “thank you.” I accepted the situation, but I wasn’t gonna smile and be unnecessarily nice about it. What annoys me annoys me. I won’t be apologetic. I was proud of that. I was real.
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This resonates deeply with my Cancer moon.