Space

I’ve read that when some people lack a sense (sight, hearing) their other senses become more acute: the highly sensitive hearing of blind people. Sometimes we compensate for things we lack. Sometimes what we lack defines what we have. Sometimes I write things that don’t make any sense.

This afternoon, Errol visited his accupressurist, Sarah Girard. (We should all be so lucky to have a healer like Sarah in our lives). I sat and watched Errol as Sarah worked silently on Errol’s sweet little body. As is often the case at Sarah’s, the room radiated with energy; flowing between Sarah and Errol, and throughout the space. I felt mesmerized, entranced, completely still. I passed gas.

Well I didn’t really pass gas, but there was something very big happening in that room. Something my senses could feel, but my brain couldn’t quantify (sort of like tofu).

My brain is very busy. I’ve got two kids, one wife (which is a lot easier than two wives and one kid, I’ve heard), a full time job, this damn blog to write, and a crazy as hell Australian Shepherd (that’s a dog, not a person – and you can have her if you want. Just call 624-1869. She’s yours) As I was saying, my brain is really full. See. It’s nice to have a busy brain. It’s nice to think. (Although if you couldn’t think, you wouldn’t know it!). But it’s also wonderful to taste rich dark chocolate, to sit out in the sun on the vernal equinox (today!), to hear John Coltrane. Kissing is good, too.

We humans really like our brains, and there’s a lot to like, but my goodness, it’s good just to sit sometimes. And the feeling I had while I sat with Errol, feeling the energy (whatever the hell that is) wash through the room, listening to Errol’s happy noises, feeling great love, just sitting and inhabiting that space. It was beautiful.

Errol lives in that space.

If we’d just take the time, we could learn a lot from him.