The Letting Go
I climbed a winding staircase and finally reached the top floor of the house. A single room with a massage table set up awaiting me. The shaman asked me to remove my necklace, eyeglasses, watch and shoes. I told him about my losses.
As I did so, fumbling at the clasp of my stone necklace, he offered help. Asked if I wanted his help in anything specific. I mumbled something about fear and anxiety and grief. “Be grateful,” he said. “There are those above us and those below us. Be grateful.”
And when I was ready he said, “Lie down face up on the table, please,” he said. The air was cool, although the summer heat outside the house was stifling. It was dark and peaceful and the session began.
I kept my eyes closed during most of the hour. I knew that he would be using different methods to realign my energy field. I was at the right place at the right time.
The first thing that happened was a dramatic expulsion of sorrow. I found myself panting like an an animal, crying convulsively. And as I cried, he gently blotted my eyes with something. “Expand, expand,” he said, his hands under my upper back.
He allowed the crying to go on and gradually I grew stiller and more peaceful.
As the time passed, I smelled the water he used, the smudge that he passed around my body.
I don’t remember much of what he said.
He did some craniosacral therapy, since I told him the range of motion was limited in my neck.
And then it came to an end.
I returned the same way I came, down the winding set of stairs.
But I was not the same.
I knew we would meet again.