When I first got diagnosed with lupus, one of the doctors strongly suggested I get a dog if I didn’t already have one. At the time I did not have a dog and I didn’t think it was such a great idea. Not after being told I had a serious illness that could kill me if I didn’t get help to manage it properly.
When I saw the same Doctor a few months later, he asked me if I had a gotten the dog yet. He explained that dogs are wonderful for helping to relax people, reduce stress and make sure that people stay in a routine of getting out and such. What he couldn’t possibly know is that I tend to like my dogs a little on the unusual side. Rarely are these dogs relaxed and sedate. By the same token, these dogs insist on attention and quality time.
What this doctor and several others failed to recognize is that there is something healing about the unconditional love you get from a four-footed friend. If you have an off day, feel like rubbish or what have you, well they still love you and accommodate as best they can. If that means that you can only curl up and rest, you get a short demand for a walk and then they get in resting right near you. Sometimes that’s the best kind of medicine you can get because it does so much for your soul that it helps heal you a little.
I don’t want to be smudged I said. I don’t want to smell like smoke, I insisted. And still despite my protests, I have smoke in my eyes. Which apparently is really an impossibility and what I have is watering eyes. Because they were exposed to smoke. Which is also apparently my fault because any reasonable person would not have her eyes open, you know. Not when someone is sneaking up behind them with the smudge bundle. Because not wanting something, at least in there, is the same as wanting something.
It all started out innocently enough. Meeting with a man to do some research on the elemental aspects of healing beliefs in “primitive” people. What started as an innocent discussion and sharing of notes somehow ended up with me choking , hacking up a lung and eyes that won’t stop watering, oh and Beloved turning a hose full of cold water on me.
Dan was gracious in sharing his notes and research with me. How early forms of healing and cleansing involved particular combinations of herbs and plants which were burnt I to an aromatic smoke. The unwell person or dark space would then have this smoke blow n his body. Or perhaps he would sit in a way that allowed the smoke to fully envelope his body. The smoking bundles may have been placed in the dark location and allowed to burn themselves out. Thus providing the cleansing smoke access to all areas of the tainted place.
Dan has spent over thirty years recording and witnessing the different combinations used for various forms of healing and cleansing. He is considered an expert in this field and has made some interesting discoveries on how the smoke works. He was the one who insisted we meet at a local corner Cafe to go over the material.
What he didn’t know was that a “healing fair” had finished up near the cafe and some people were still caught up n the atmosphere. As in the woman who decided I must be smudged was still in healing mode. She sensed my need for healing apparently and thus smudged me. Dan tried to tell me it was an honor, and that I should feel something healing about it.
I guess if I had a sickness that could be coughed up I might be healed. Or if all my eyes needed were to water and an illness would leave me, you could call me healed. But I don’t feel that way. I feel disrespected and drenched. Oh and cold. Maybe later I will feel healed. Right now ve channeled my inner drowned rat and am in that mode.