Saifyre is getting her read on
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear…”
When I was a child I hid my smile behind my hand because of my protruded and widely gapped teeth. I held my head down. I let my hair fall in my face. I didn’t laugh. I would purposely think of horrible, tragic things to keep my lips closed, to keep my “offending” disfigurement locked away. I hoped they would forget, hoped they wouldn’t tease me anymore… hoped today was the day they would let me play with them.
At home, after I had my bath, I would hold my drying towel just over my nose. I would smile widely. I would imagine the mouth I wanted below my nose: thin pink lips with complete with two pristine rows of white bright teeth behind them.
I would smile my perfect smile and they would accept me
But I was wrong
When I was a teenager I used to worry as I danced with someone. As their body pressed against mine, as his or her hands would go to my back, my waist, my hips I would imagine disdain and disgust lurking behind the bedroom eyes, the soft smile. As they tilted their head I imagined them listening to my fears and deciding it was true
A moment that was sweet and sensuous suddenly becomes torment and torture.
After the song had ended or the kiss parted and I was home in the dark, where no one could see me, when I was safe in my bed sweating beneath a pile of covers. I imagined my waist thin enough for her to place her hands around, my hips narrow, my legs longer than an anime school girl’s.
I would walk into a room with those long, long legs and they would accept me
But I was wrong
When I was a young woman I hid my truth behind a thick and tangled matted mess of lies. I rationalized these lies. I told myself that if I did not tell them mom would worry and sister would be disappointed, friends would be overtly concerned. It is better for them not to know the truth. Not to know the secrets.
And as I slept locked in my nightmares and dreams my truth and my lies would wage a bitter battle in a wearisome war. Which I told myself I was wining.
I convinced myself that the weight of those lies was not too much to carry.
But I was wrong and it broke me
Now I am a woman
and as I stand besides the table,
as I place my hands upon the base of his feet
as I lower my voice and drop into a dancers stance,
as I tell him softly: breath… just breath… deeply… all the way into your center.
I can hear the nagging voice in my mind.
If you fail then you are worthless, if you disappoint then your training is pointless. If you mess up then it is because of a serious shortcoming in your compassion a fatal fault in your intuition, a devastating defect in your being…
But I inhale and realize that…
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear… “
I exhale my inaccurate ego.
I inhale my accurate self
“I” suddenly disappear.
And the best of me remains.
The art of touch has taught me these truths about myself. How I let my fear of being rejected and my inaccurate ego infect everything in my life. And how wonderful life can be when I move past this. How I should not only look upon my client with the eyes of compassion but also myself.
As my intent flows from me in an deep yet effortless effleurage, as I create a space for that persons body to heal itself … I myself am healed and freed.
Free of the fear.
Free of the inaccurate ego.
It is beautiful
It is humbling
It is love
And it spills out to illuminate every aspect of my life, touching everything that I put hand or mind to.
this way of touching
this way of being the best of me.
“…I will face my fear… I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
-Frank Herbert, Dune