Notes For Creators

creative soul surfing

I was better until I talked about it

You live, you do something, you notice its effect.
 
A few weeks back I damaged my abdominal muscles. It started with dozens of heavy bags of organic dirt for my wife’s raised bed gardens; it ended after a mad dash of 40 laps through a cold pool. From that point on I was in immobilizing pain.
 
A couple of days later my very cool doctor told me not to lift or do anything strenuous for 6 weeks (I was careful not to ask about lovemaking . . . why make a stressful situation more stressful through abstinence?). Oh, and to see an acupuncturist often. Didn’t I tell you he’s too cool for old school?
 
So for the next couple of weeks I did everything wrong. I did not see the acupuncturist. I helped friends move. Even though I only handled “light stuff” the pain leapt in magnitude. Then we had to move our storage unit for the gallery . . . . Again, I only handled “light stuff” . . . apparently not light enough.
 
Then an interesting thing: The next day Carolyn Cohen, an energy healer, happened to be over with her husband. When in passing I mentioned the pain (the agony! the agony!) she stopped me right there and performed a simple, no-more-than-several-minutes healing on me, right where we stood.
 

I believe in these possibilities — the possibility for healing through other than conventional means — and yet I still have a difficult time allowing the reality to be true.
 
Here are the facts:
 
Carolyn healed me. The pain vanished — it just went away, gone. I don’t know if you’re this way also, but I even probed for it, disbelieving that such pain could . . . just go. Even an hour-long bike ride pulling Zane on the tag-along over shell-rock paths through a preserve didn’t bring it back.
 
The pain stayed away — until I talked about it! Late in the next day I was relating to someone how awful the pain had been — I got into the details, I got into the feeling of it, and now I ask myself why? The pain came back, right then, as if summoned by my intensity.
 

What’s that about?
 
Do you suspect the same thing I do? That our mental-spiritual effect is incalculable, quirky, powerful . . . . and yes, that I have the kind of control over it that a rider has on a bucking bull . . . and double yes, that next time I should just shut up?

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