Day 13: Eighteen Healers — Part 2

June 1st, 2015

 Joslyn Hamilton, freelance editor and writer, Salt Lake City, Utah

I’m taking part in a 30-day writing experiment. See Kale & Cigarettes for details and the Facebook Group to read stories by other 500-words-ers.

In Part 1 I told the story of the chiropractor, the weekly shiatsu massage, the charming clairvoyant, the enneagram expert, Landmark Forum, and the molesty rolfer. It only got worse from there. 


The Colonics

I can’t remember how I got sucked into this.  (< Best pun ever.) In the apex of New Age nonsense that is Marin County, people are constantly impressing on you how miraculous their latest favorite treatment is. So at some point, I was convinced that having the crap literally sucked out of my intestines would cure every problem I had ever had. The clinic was conveniently located a short neighborhood away from the yoga studio I was managing. I took an afternoon to check it out. I’m not going to lie. I really hated it. I know a lot of people for whom colonic irrigation really works, but for me, it was weird; it was uncomfortable; it actually hurt, a lot. My gut ached for days. I felt off—and not because I was “detoxing.” I tried it twice, just to be sure. I’m glad I did, too, because now  I can confidently say that it’s just not my thing.


My First Acupuncturist

I initially visited an acupuncturist to resolve stomach problems I was having. It took us a while to figure out that my belly aches were stress related. In the meantime, I became convinced that I had a tapeworm. Having a tapeworm is the worst first-world problem (that’s actually a third-world problem) I can imagine. Ever since I learned what a tapeworm was in seventh grade—and stopped eating pork—except, bacon, of course—any minor gas bubble in my digestive tract has sent me into a paroxysm of hysteria.  Caylie proved herself a willing psychotherapist. She indulged my hypochondriacal furors with grace and magnanimity.


The Ayurvedic Consultant

I was the GM at a large yoga studio in San Francisco. We shared our space with an Ayurvedic school. As a gesture of goodwill (and, let’s be honest, a marketing move) the owner of the school gifted me an Ayurvedic consultation. I filled out a lot of paperwork detailing my eating, sleeping, and TV-watching habits. I love and don’t need a lot of convincing to fill out forms about myself. He diagnosed me as trickily vata-kapha, a strange combination of doshas which basically contradicts itself. The only tangible advice he gave me was to stop watching stimulating TV shows before bed.  Also, I bought some very expensive ghee. But I’ll confess, I prefer butter.


 The Solstice Yoga Workshop I Could Not Make Up

I once took part in a “Summer Solstice” yoga workshop with a local teacher I had admired from afar. As anyone who has ever taken a yoga workshop knows, the theme is completely irrelevant because most yoga teachers are not organized enough to stay on-theme anyway. This particular workshop, like most I’ve attended, was a loose mishmash of yoga poses and seated meditation that culminated in the worst partner yoga exercise I have ever been forced to participate in. “Turn to the person next to you,” she said. “Stare into their eyes.” We did. “Now, without speaking, silently decide who goes first.” Uh, okay. “And take turns acting out the feeling that you see in the other person’s eyes. In pantomime dance.” Uh, what? Gotta go.


 The Nutritionist

My mother studied nutrition for many years and has worked in the restaurant industry her whole life. Her father was a well-known food scientist who helped pioneer freeze-dried food in the ’50s and ’60s. Nutrition is an interest of mine and I’ve learned quite a bit about it over the years. So I don’t often ask people for advice about food, but when given a trade session with a nutritionist I met through mutual acquaintances, I said yes. What the hell, I thought. I have struggled with hypoglycemia and stomach aches for most of my life.  She might have some insight that I haven’t thought of yet. I actually really enjoyed our talk. Mostly because she was cool and good company. She gave me a particular piece of advice that I’ve gotten from many, many healers in my life: You’ve got to do more creative things. She also told me to eat less sugar. Duh.


 The Biofeedback Therapist

The biofeedback therapist offered me a trade, and I was excited, not because I was particularly interested in her service, but because I really wanted to be given permission to fix the egregious typos on her web site.  I am a superhero of copyediting, and I wanted to swoop in and help a sister out. I didn’t know what biofeedback therapy was, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want it. And I was right. I’m sure this is a subtle and esoteric definition of what was allegedly happening in that room, and I, of all people, should know it, since I did edit the copy on her site, but here’s what it felt like to me: a really, really relaxing nap in a big leather armchair while hooked up to a bunch of alleged electrodes feeding into a janky-looking laptop. I didn’t feel all that different after the session (and honestly, I have no idea how I was supposed to feel), but the nap was certainly nice. A few weeks later, the biofeedback therapist went back to LA to try her hand at selling energy drinks or something. I never got a “thank you” for the help I gave her with her web site. But I’m not surprised. Grammar isn’t a top priority to Indigo Biofeedback Therapists. 

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2 Responses to “Day 13: Eighteen Healers — Part 2”

  1. [...] massage, the charming clairvoyant, the enneagram expert, Landmark Forum, and the molesty rolfer. In Part 2 there was the colonic irrigation, my first acupuncturist, the Ayurvedic consultant, the Solstice [...]

  2. Muchachos ya se arregló la velocidad de subida de mediafire ahora si vamos con toda, tengan un poco de paciencia estoy subiendo tan rápido como puedo con la ayuda de dos leechs a la vez, :biggrin: saludos!!!

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