This is a piece I wrote about doing bodywork. Expresses what I strive to bring to the massage table.
She looks anxious
Balanced on the edge of terror actually.
I welcome her into safe space,
Breathing through the nervousness twisting my own stomach.
What if she breaks down,
Hounded by the intrusive memories of the past?
Can I contain her pain?
Or will it defeat me,
Seeping into my empathetic self,
Cancelling my ability to support.
Will I then battle with my own memories?
She is on the table now,
Trusting against experience to be touched by another.
The clothes she is still wearing are flimsy armour against the memory she now faces.
My hand rests gently over her heart as sobs shake her chest.
I feel the pain, the hurt, the anger.
But I don’t hold on to it.
I hold on to her, supporting.
It is her battle.
It’s not for me to fight for her even were such possible.
I hold space.
Letting her pain be her pain while lending extra strength for the fight.
With a deep breath she releases some unknowable heaviness.
When the tears have left taking away pain and anger,
I begin to feel something else.
A beautiful lightness.
Rising from the table, she is focused inward on her own journey.
She thanks me for the session
And I in turn thank her.
For trusting me.
My water bottle teeters precariously in the crook of my arm as I try to juggle it, my bag, and keys one handed. It falls as I shut my car door with my free hand.
I stumble to catch it and almost lose my bag as well. Damn. I blow out a breath and snatch up the wayward bottle. I don’t want to be here, I realize. My thoughts drift back to the scene in my novel I stopped working on to come here. I’m being ungrateful, but I was in a flow.
I gaze up at the tall apartment building before me. Tall and slender it whispers elegance and understated style.
Thoughts of writing are knocked out of my head as a gape. I’m not into Chicago architecture, or architecture of any kind, but this building has presence. I idly wonder what his apartment will look like.
I walk into the lobby where I’m buzzed into the inner sanctum by the doorman. Tinkling water greets me from a large fountain lit by sunlight pouring in from floor to ceiling windows.
A small calm settles over me at the sight and sound of it. I pause to drink in the ambiance. I adore fountains. It’s beautiful, but the moment I’m passed it, my thoughts drift again to my current writing project. Should I have canceled this and stayed home to finish that scene?
Pressing on, I take a small voyage in the elevator, zooming up forty plus floors. It takes just long enough to remind me that this is no dinky three-floor dwelling, but a rich, classy high-rise with a world class view. I’m betting his apartment faces Lake Michigan.
I feel a little thrill at the thought of a balcony view of the lake shore. Oh dear, I’m interested. Now I have to go in.
As I walk across carpet so soft and deep my bed would be envious, I feel the unmistakable flush of annoyance in my cheeks. This surprises me. I’m here to get bodywork for goodness sakes, why am I annoyed? It’s not just my work being interrupted. I’m nervous. I feel out of place. Well, I’m here, I’m staying. I just need to relax. I take a deep breath and knock on his door.
He answers wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and greets me with an unpretentious smile.
Tightness eases from my shoulders as I smile back. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Wow, I really was intimidated by all the fancy. But he’s as laid back and friendly here as he always is in our Tantra class.
The apartment is simple and comfortable. Laid back like him. And the view from the balcony is indeed filled with Lake Michigan.
A slight dizziness spins my head and belly as the unbearably huge lake assails my vision. I halt in the door frame, overwhelmed. It looks like it’s overflowed the horizon and swallowed more of the skyline than it should. Not the treat I thought it would be. Should I take it as a foreshadowing of the session.
He interrupts my thoughts asking me if I’m ready to begin.
I flinch. Silly. Fortunately, he doesn’t notice. Am I ready? No. And I can’t suss out just why not. We go back to begin the session.
We begin with setting intentions. Mine is to relax, and get my mind to shut up for two seconds. As I stretch my clothed body out on the mat, I will the subtle, soothing scent drifting up from the lit candles to calm me. But it doesn’t.
A tendril of nervousness worms its way around in my stomach. My shoulders stiffen up again as he places a gentle hand over my heart for the connection exercise.
His gaze finds my left eye; looking past the surface into me. He smiles reassuringly.
Tautness clenches my chest, and I force in a deep steadying breath. I don’t want to be seen. It clicks for me that that’s the real source of my resistance. Not an unwritten scene or feeling discomfort in this ritzy high-rise. Those were distractions. The real thing is, I don’t want him to see me vulnerable.
I mentally brush away disappointment with myself. How long have I been practicing Tantra? Years. I should not be this uptight about a basic bodywork session. I catch myself. Should. I don’t deal in ‘shoulds’ in my practice. What I feel is what I feel. Being present to it is the point. I continue to breathe deeply, but just let the fears swirl through me without attachment or need to do anything about them.
I close my eyes, and physically surrender into the cradle of his arms. I rub my cheek against the soft cotton of his pants as my head finds a comfortable position on his thigh. His other thigh is a firm cushion between my own.
Anxiety edges up from my belly to my throat, clamping down. I give myself a little shake to loosen it. I’m not entirely successful. I feel unguarded and dependent; not situations I enjoy. They require trust. Not my best trick.
His nurturing fingers press firmly into my knotted muscles coaxing away tension. His hands seem to linger on my especially troublesome spots between my shoulder blades. I’m being held; given to without demand or sexual intent.
I feel my stomach and throat slowly unclench. A deep sigh helps clear residue tension from my body. I feel something I rarely allow myself to feel: protected. As my mind finally shuts down, I curl up like a child for nap time. As a deep sense of safety settles over me, I’m lulled like a baby and fall asleep in his arms. No distractions, no ‘shoulds’, no fears. Just trust and a slice of true peace.
In this personal story, the bodywork modality I receive is called Tantsu. Check it out in this video:
Emotions swirl so fast through my mind, I can’t grasp even one. Let alone sort them all out. They twist making me restless and weighing me down at the same time so that I have this painful urge to move, but am unable to.
So I do nothing.
I sit on my new couch surrounded by unpacked boxes. In my hand sits a tiny silver capsule. I should have taken it a month ago when I first arrived here in suburbia. Right after the accident that had killed my whole crew and destroyed my only way off this world, back to my own.
Everyone gone. Accept me. Left here with one last directive. Leave no trace. No evidence of us that could affect the natural evolution of these people.
And everything is gone. The ship, the data, all our advanced technology. All that’s left is me. And this pill.
I stare at its metallic gleam, hoping another option will present itself. But nothing does. Even though I can’t let go of the life I had – the dead people and purpose that defined me – I want to live.
A wave of bitter pain washes through me, hunching me over. I do want to live. But I have a duty.
Idly, I aim the electric remote at the television. Is this what people do on this world to distract themselves? The flat screen comes alive with the cheery face of a news commentator. The picture is crisp and clear, the flecks of grey in his hazel eyes evident.
I miss our visual dishes. In one of those, the concave screen would disappear beneath the three dimensional image of this man sitting in his studio. The graphics would be so well textures that I’d feel like he was in the room with me, talking about the latest tax cuts from Washington.
But this TV isn’t so bad. Maybe I could get use to it. Maybe I could learn to care about taxes and basketball and the price of gas. Maybe I could pretend to be one of them.
I stand up, pacing, thinking it through. There’s no need to sacrifice myself. And could continue the mission, on a smaller scale, learning so much about this planet. I just wouldn’t be able to share knowledge about mine. I could do that.
Smiling, I run a hand over boxes of new things that aren’t mine, thinking of unpacking them.
The gray-eyed man has moved on to medical news. Diseases and half-effective treatments that I know the cure for. Or at least could help them piece together. My smile fades. Environmental news. A field of grass in the Antarctic.
Could I withhold knowledge that would save lives? I grip the edge of the couch. The wood is unyielding beneath my hands.
The last directive is meant to protect them. The unknown effects of helping are the danger. A sudden increase in population due less people dying from disease. That would tax the already overpopulated planet in ways I couldn’t even guess at. And fixing the ozone layer is a noble idea. But if I remove the consequences of bad resource management, would they learn from their mistakes?
“I’m not a god. I have no right to take such risks.”
But would I really just stand by and allow them to discover on their own, things I take for granted? Could I let a loved one die of a disease knowing I could give the medical authorities knowledge leading to a cure? I don’t believe I could live with myself if I did.
Feeling queasy, I plop back down on the couch.
I glance at the clock sitting near the television. Ten thirty-two. I hear nothing but the ticking of the second hand and a bird or two chirping outside. Time seems endless, but my options are not.
I sigh.
I can’t live in this world, alienated. And I can’t be myself.
I drag my trembling body up from the couch and trudge to the bathroom. In the mirror, I don’t look like me. Grief has started the job. I lift the pill and swallow it down, so it can do the rest.
A chill runs through me, chased by spasms of panic. I don’t want to lose myself.
I grapple with my consciousness, trying to hold on, even though the decision to let go has already been made.
My thoughts break up, interrupted by a foreign, mental voice going on about bills, and work, and going out on Friday night. Mundane thoughts. The pill remakes me to fix this world, and I fade. I try to tell this new person there is so much more to the universe. But…
Demons are angels who have fallen from grace. But what could tempt an angel into such an undesirable state? This week, I’m looking at themes in the movie Gabriel, a 2007 Australian film starring Andy Whitfield in the title role.
First, a brief summary. God sends the archangel Gabriel into purgatory to battle fallen angels over the fate of the human souls trapped there. The other six archangels have gone before him and failed.
Gabriel’s blue eyes indicate his divinity. Something he struggles to hold onto.
Gabriel struggles with his new human emotions as he looks for the others, and finds them fallen, beaten more by their inab
ility to handle the feelings and desires of the mortal world than by their enemies.
Gabriel falls in lust, experiences grief, anger, and hate. But overcomes them and goes after Sammael, the leader of the fallen angels. Only to discover that archangel Michael, the strongest of them, defeated Sammael but, seduced by the human desire for power, took the fallen’s place. Michael and Gabriel battle, and in the end Michael turns from the dark side. Right before he dies.
Devastated by the death of his friend, and losing his divinity by giving in to human emotions, Gabriel challenges God. ‘Is this what you wanted?’
The best part about the end, for me, was that God did not respond. Because God’s will just is. And you can go with the flow or jump off a roof and try to understand the unknowable. I admire Gabriel’s choice though I think he’s hitting his head against a wall.
I also love the notion of angels having a difficult time controlling human emotions and desires. That inner fight is the one that ultimately destroys them, leading to their fall. In the movie, before Michael’s identity is revealed, Gabriel finds a letter Michael left for him:
‘Gabriel, if you are reading this, then I have failed. We are far from grace, further than I could ever imagine. You will feel things that will cloud your judgment. This enemy within is strong and unpredictable. Control these emotions or the fight cannot be won. The others have failed, learn from them, but do not follow. You are the last. Michael.’
So angels cannot maintain their heavenly state while in the human world, but must deal with the same feelings we do. And unprepared for them, they don’t do as well as they think they should. It’s like the hermit who shuts herself off from others to attain a state of peace. If she cannot find that peace when she returns to the company of other people, was it ever hers in the first place? Or just a reflection of her environment?
And with angels, the movie Gabriel asks, are they heavenly because they abide in Heaven, or because it is an innate state?
It’s a fascinating question, even for us humans. Are we innately good, or bad, or just products of our environment. I think true goodness is making the decision to be loving when you are very tempted not to be. That’s a tough thing to do, but we’re all cable of it.
And it should be easier for angels. In my mind, they do have some innate goodness that would help them resist the darker pulls of human desire. However, Gabriel does make a compelling counterpoint. From the mouth of Michael at the end of the movie when he is explaining his fall to Gabriel:
Michael/Sammael
“Freedom… is the ability to challenge yourself far beyond the constraints of traditional rule and order. We draw strength from our passions… we’re driven by desire… even hatred can be a worthy ally when used against an enemy… and yet, we are told to turn our backs on these things… the very feelings, emotions… that make us all… human.”
So what do you think? Are angels innately good? Or are they lying, drinking, philanders outside of Heaven’s influence?
One thing I’ve always found interesting about angels is that they are the same species as demons – fallen angels. Even so, they are vastly different. Or should be. Today, I’ll be picking apart Legion, the 2009 film staring the yummy Paul Bettany.
What’s it about? God is sick of our crap and sends hordes of angels, lead by archangel Gabriel, to destroy us. Archangel Michael still has faith in us, so defies God and comes down to save us. Well, to save a waitress’ unborn child who, when born, can save us.
Why did God decide to destroy us, then allow a savior to be conceived? No good explanation is given. And it really should have been. But I’m going to be sticking to the story points about angels for this rant.
Let’s start with the best thing about the movie, the creepy special effects:
Even before her gruesome transformation, this lady is a heartless witch. She could have just gone in and politely completed her assassination but no, she’s got to suck the girl in with pleasantries before threatening her baby’s life. That’s unnecessary intimidation. Cruelty. Not what I associate with heavenly beings Even though, I must admit, I love this scene! The contrast of nice, smiling old lady one minute, ceiling crawling demon – ur – angel the next, was chilling and rather awesome.
And then there is this guy:
Again, very cool. But God sent this guy? Surely, God must realize that ice cream truck music is creepy and daddy long legs are among the scariest creatures in existence. Okay, well, I think so. Why terrorize the poor bastards before killing them? I’d rather drown in a nice humane flood.
Another interesting aspect of this story is the ending. God changes his mind about destroying the human race and rewards Gabriel for going rogue. When the obedient Gabriel is like WTF?, Michael says, ‘You gave him what he asked for. I gave him what he needed.’
Even the gravis lent to the statement by Paul Bettany and his sexy British accent couldn’t keep me from laughing. God sees the error of his ways through the rebel actions of one his archangels? I remember another rebel who wasn’t so lucky. What was his name? Oh yeah, Satan.
My real issue with this is the notion of God as some petulant dictator who can be wrong, very wrong, and shown up by one of his underlings. I know God was all ‘eye for an eye’ in the Old Testament days, but since Jesus hit the scene, he’s been all about love and compassion. So what gives?
This story overthrows two core tenants in angel mythology – angels are good and God is all-knowing – without creating a storyworld or backstory to support the major change. It’s like the writers are saying ‘These are the Christian angels and God you know except, we made them evil.’
If these angels are cruel, what does it mean to be heavenly? If God is fallible, can he really be God?
What did you think of the angels in Legion? Are monstrous angels believable?
There was a time when I ignored Young Adult fiction. I got bored with Judy Blume by the time I was thirteen, and moved on to works like Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Sword and Sorceress series. Since I read adult fiction as a teenager, I never thought to check out the YA section of my library, bookstore, or Audible account.
I’d heard the hype about Harry Potter and thought I might, eventually, take a break from Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series, or Octavia Butler’s Xenogenesis series (both are fantastic by the way) to check it out. After all, it was a children’s book and probably wouldn’t take that long to get through.
I put it off until a friend thrust the first three books in my hands, demanding, “You’ve got to read them!” Encouraged by the thickness of the books, I obeyed. And instantly forgot I was reading a book meant for kids.
Young Adult fiction has changed since I was a teenager. Though marketed to teens twelve to eighteen, the genre is gaining popularity because of the many adult readers who are also fans. With the success of series like Twilight and The Hunger Games, I’m wondering, why is YA the hottest genre out there right now?
After musing this over, and scouring the internet for various opinions, I’ve come up with three reasons that ring true to me. One, it’s getting a boost from Hollywood movies. Two, readers get to relive an empowered childhood through YA books. And three, it’s just good fiction.
My first thought is, “It’s Hollywood hype.” I don’t mean this in a bad way, just that when a book is made into a high-budget movie, it’s going to get a sales boost. The movie, especially a good one, will introduce people to the book who never heard of it previously. I loved Golden Compass with its magic dust, warrior bears, and people’s souls living outside their bodies in the form of animal familiars. So, I bought the book, but didn’t enjoy it nearly as much as the movie. Had I discovered the book by browsing through a bookstore rather than seeing the movie, I probably wouldn’t have purchased it.
I’d heard of the Hunger Games before the movie, but didn’t think it would be something I’d like. The idea of kids killing kids didn’t appeal. When the movie came out, with such great reviews, I broke down and saw it, and liked it enough to buy the book. Which I have not finished. If enough people say something is good, it’s hard to not at least take a look.
However, there are many adults, as well as youth, who love these books, and perhaps that’s why they have been made into movies. And, I do have some favorite books that are YA. What is it about them that I like? Well, there is the element of being drawn in and taken back to my youth through the adventures of the main character. Experiencing her journey as a kickass heroine allows me to re-experience my youth as a more confident, empowered me. Stories like Maria V. Snyder’s Inside Out show us that the heroine isn’t always the cool, popular kid, but she succeeds brilliantly by being exactly who she is, as only she can. Harry Potter, and Rose Hathaway from Richelle Mead’s Vampire Academy series, demonstrate how kids who think they’re nothing special can rise above life challenges (even if those challenges are Dark Lords and evil vampires) and succeed were even some adults fail.
But, all that’s too deep. I think the simplest explanation for the popularity of the Young Adult genre is that it’s just awesome fiction. It delivers the tight plotting and fascinating characters all entertaining books do, with fun, imaginative worlds thrown in to boot. I don’t think fanciful words like ‘muggle’, ‘avada kedavra’, or ‘deluminator’ would work quite so well in an adult novel.
Whatever the reason, looks like YA will continue to be a popular genre. What do you think? What is your favorite YA title, and why?
Hydropolis. A luxury hotel designed in 2006 by Joachim Hauser to be built in the coastal waters of Dubai. Guests would be able to enjoy the stunning Dubai skyline from under the retractable roof of the hotel’s ballroom. Below, immersed under sixty-six feet of crystal blue Persian Gulf water, guests would snuggle in their private oceanarium hotel room.
This is good stuff. I was determined to fit this into my sci-fi story ‘All Systems Optimal’ as soon as I saw that first picture. I was googling futuristic living spaces, because I couldn’t visualize the apartment of the main character, Tage. It is the setting for the whole story, but its description was just a tidbit initially. Then I found Hydropolis.
I had to use it. Of course, the needs of the story changed the concept. The luxury hotel room became a leaky, low-rent apartment. Why underwater? Over-population has forced the society to build in strange places. Which is one reason Tage is being forced off-world.
But the exotic setting also affected the story in subtle ways. I think the sense of the ocean pressing in, mirrors the tension the characters feel about their impending separation. And, I got to throw in a bursting pip, which happily resulted in wet, half-naked men!
Unfortunately, Hydropolis is in limbo right now. Not that many of us would be able to afford it at an estimated $5,500 a day! But, you can pick up ‘All Systems Optimal’ for a mere $2.99. Like how I worked that in?
For those of you who have already read it, what did you think of Tage’s apartment and its use in the story?
