I decided I’m comfortable enough with Mark the Shoulder Torturer to tell him how I got hurt. I’ve avoided the question, both with him and with my doctor (I know, I know, but come on, seriously….).
I told him over breakfast smoothies what happened as far as I know; I still don’t know when exactly I got hurt. I needed some help from Google to explain shibari, and where my limits in it were, but he understood when I was through. Adorably, he promptly worried about it entirely from a rehab perspective — that I can’t be doing that until I’m recovered, and maybe after, depending on how it goes.
I did know that; I knew it when I moved, nothing to do with the injury. I can’t imagine I’ll find someone to do that with me, not here.
I miss what shibari does for me, all the more now that sex isn’t taking up any of the slack. Reiki helps, but it doesn’t provide the huge release of energy shibari does. It’s like I’m a pot of boiling water with a tight-fitting lid. Reiki cracks the lid enough to let off some steam and heat and just keep the pot from boiling over; then the lid goes back on and it starts to boil over again almost right away. Suspension takes the lid completely off for a while (and so does some kink in the sex mix, or a session with floggers or tawses), so it takes a lot longer for the boil-over to start again. That’s what I need; I just have to figure out how to have it.
I do have baseball. As frivolous as that sounds, it isn’t; it’s one of the joys of my life even when my team sucks. And just for variety this season, they don’t so far. Win or lose, the rhythms of the game comfort me; I see many ways in which at its best, it follows the Tao. It’s no accident that there are multiple books of baseball haiku in print. I stitch my way through the season like a fiend. Baseball even finds its way into my poetry now and again. Not frivolous at all.
I had an experience this week I’m not sure what to make of yet. I was doing my nightly reiki session, which I usually do meditation-style, with music. I was using this:
At about 10 minutes in, the reiki shut off. I was feeling relaxed, so I went on with the meditation. The sensations that came, I recognized well: I was leaving my body in the first stage of a shamanic journey. The spirits around me now have been firm about not wanting me to do that, so I reached out to them and said if they didn’t want me to go, they should help keep me in my body. Shortly after that, I found myself at my journey entry point.
I followed the levee that’s part of that place, first parallel to and then down to the spillway bed. There was a huge white stone statue of Kuan Yin, which I’ve never seen there before. I walked down to the river and scooped up some water in the ballcap I was wearing and brought it back to pour at the base of the statue. Then I walked into the trees along the river, my usual path to the Middleworld. I walked a long way, but met no spirits and went no deeper into the Otherworlds. Eventually I turned back and returned to this world.
I have no idea why I went, unless the message is that I should still use that way to communicate with Kuan Yin, which I’ve done before. I’m hoping to get clarification soon.
I’m making progress with my plants. I’ve gathered all the ones that I have medicines for and are allowed here; the collection is woefully thin — five plants — and excludes most of my important medicines, but I can have some of them in the house with me, which makes it a happier place in a lot of ways. I have aloe in the kitchen, and fiu and lau mafiafia in the sitting room. If both of those bloom, it’s going to smell heavenly in there. I have more of all of those, as well as makerita and polo feu, in the greenhouse. I am hilariously over-prepared for if I cut myself or catch a cold, and for very little else.