Letting Go: An Adventure in Acupuncture and Beyond

A few weeks ago, I went to see my acupuncturist for for abdominal cramps that had been irritating me for a few days. My stomach felt constricted, tied in little knots. Maybe I’d eaten too much heavy food and needed more exercise.

Lying on the table, I listened to the gentle music with needles in my feet for grounding and a couple in my tummy and  wondered why she had put needles in my right hand and not my left.  An  image came to me of a boat on the water. The acupuncture table became the boat. A parcel of trash floated by and I reached into the water and  picked it up. I saw myself carrying the trash around wondering what to do with it. Then, back on the table/boat, I  imagined a trash can to my left, physically reached over, and held the trash over the side.

“Just let it go,” came the voice. So I  opened my hand and released the trash.

As my mind came fully back into the room, I thought about how much stuff I need to let go of, like the issues that belong to my grown up ADULT children, the clutter in my parents’ house which belongs to me now that they’re gone, and all my own clutter, both physical and mental…. The list goes on.

I moved my left hand, the one left free of needles, over my belly as if gathering whatever I needed to let go of. Then I carried it to the left of the table and let it go on the floor beside me shaking my hand a little. I did this a few more times, saying, “Let it go.” Then, I held my open hand out to the left to receive whatever gifts God wanted to give me.

Let Go

Let Go

Let Go

Receive.

That day, I fasted with water, apple juice, coconut water, and vegetable broth. In the afternoon, I meandered in my back yard and did some lite yoga. I felt something on my right hand thinking it might be the first mosquito bite of the year. But it was a lady bug walking on my right hand, the one that had the needles in it that morning. It seemed like the lady bug was biting me. But then I realized it felt more like tiny electrical impulses moving in my hand as if the lady bug activated remnants of the acupuncture. I took the lady bug to a tree branch. It climbed briefly, then flew away.

I’m feeling much better now, but years of experience have taught me that letting go is an ongoing process. Maybe this song will be a reminder, along with lady bugs.

 

I borrowed the picture of the girl on the boat from Pixabay

Opening Doors

It had been a year or more since my last acupuncture session. It gives me good energy and made a headache go away once, but nothing especially dramatic. In October, I ran into the healer at a potluck. I’ve known her for years as a casual friend but had never had an acupuncture session with her until last week – after my body told me to make an appointment. But this was not a typical session. I must have been ready. The time was right. This was my experience:

∞

November 10, 2016,

two days after the sky fell,

Interrupted cries still lingered in my solar plexus

like mucus bogging down muffled screams

waiting to be flushed free.

Then the drunk guy threw a key at me

when I was only trying to help.

Who needs this?

But that cop wasn’t following  me after all

as I pulled into the space

to visit the healer with magic hands

and the skill to find the stuck places.

She began with my old friend,

Lavender,

to settle my nerves.

The first needle only hurt for a moment

as the door opened and sparks flew.

The others didn’t hurt at all.

When qi started to flow,

I almost giggled

then followed her humming

with my own breath –

Inhale, sooooew. Exhale, Haaaaaah,

like the song of the ocean.

Cardamom opened the doors wider.

Right after I turned over onto my back

is when it happened.

My cold hands finally got warm.

Then, I started to cry. And laugh. And cry.

Mama. Mama? Mama!

Is it really you?

Hold me, Mama.

My fingers can’t reach you!

Daddy is hurting. He misses you so much.

You want me to tell him you’re okay?

Mama’s okay, Daddy.

She’s okay.

Tears.

But wait.

Am I supposed to be

learning how to talk to other ghosts?

Or just my own?

Sandalwood brought me back.

Shaking, I drank from the cup of water

and called my father to give him the message

he already knew.

_________________________________________

My mother died November 14, 2008. She collected angels. Dozens of them still decorate my father’s house. He hasn’t moved any of them. And he won’t move out of that house because he feels her presence there.

Angels Among Us, a mural by JoAnne Silvia