I arrive for my acupuncture session wondering what the heck I’m doing here (see Just Needling You). As I inform David the acupuncturist, I feel great, just great! My mood is high, my body is light and lithe, my energy is normal.
However, I do proclaim that I’m ready for increased energy. I believe that we have so many more abilities/instincts/sixth senses than we rely on.
We just need to learn how to fire them up.
I mention that I’m ready to be fired up.
But I forget about all that when David urges me to relax on the comfortable acupuncture table. Classical music wafts in the background and sunlight glows gently through a closed shade. The only reason I know that needles are sticking out of my ankles and hands and neck is because David tells me.
Huh, I don’t feel a thing.
Then he leaves me alone.
I don’t panic. I don’t hyperventilate or berate myself for being prone on a high table with flexible steel sticking in my skin while I hum to Brahms.
In fact, I almost fall asleep.
But David returns before I embarrass myself with a snore or two. He holds my head with two hands, his energy so intense that my scalp prickles. Inside my head, I’m yelling, “what the heck is he doing now?”
After the session is over and I kind of sway out of the office, I ask him exactly that. David offers me an intelligent and wise answer.
I have no idea what he says, though, because suddenly dirt is swirling all around me. Or, perhaps the better term is “dust.”
But neither David nor his receptionist seem to see anything strange, so I walk out of the office and into the bright sunlight, where the dust swirls so violently around me that I immediately think of Pigpen from Peanuts. Whatever is the matter with me?
But then it hits me.
I’M GOING TO BE IN A CAR ACCIDENT.
The thought is so strong that I pause before I continue walking toward my car.
What to do? I should not drive this car, because I’M GOING TO BE IN A CAR ACCIDENT. I try to discount that thought, since it’s ridiculous, but I can’t, because the fact is so true, so real, I can’t ignore it.
Should I call my guy? Yes, I should, but I’m 25 minutes away and he’s in the middle of a work deadline. What am I going to say, anyway, “Hi, Pigpen here. I can’t drive home because I’m going to be in a car accident.”
I open the car door, sit for almost five minutes, breathing in and out, trying to dispel the dust.
Then I make a plan. I will NOT be in a car accident. I will drive so carefully, and slowly, that it will be impossible for me to cause a car accident.
I pull the car out of my space and drive for under a minute before I’m stopped at a red light, expelling a huge sigh of relief. See? What can happen? I’m stopped at a red light.
My head whips forward as my car is hit, hard, from behind.
I yell out loud and say a few “fired up” words.
And then I laugh –alone in my car. I’m so happy I laugh louder. I did not cause the car accident! Someone else did.
I pull over to the next street a few yards away, and the car that hit my rear bumper pulls over too. A sweet young man folds out of the driver’s seat, looking so worried I want to hug him and say “there, there.”
Instead I ask softly but insistently, “Why did you hit my car?”
He shrugs morosely. “I don’t know. I looked down for a second and the next thing I knew, my car banged into yours.”
With hands shaking, he shows me his license and registration (22, college student) and I snap a photo of all the information. My car bumper is scratched and dented, but not as badly as it felt. His car is untouched.
I shake hands with him, almost apologetically. At that point, I’m still afraid that my dusty juju made his car hit mine.
I drive the rest of the way home with no incident. When I tell my guy I’ve been in a car accident, instead of examining the car, he hugs me for a long time. He then declares I have no dust swirling around me.
But I take a long bath anyway. That’s when the truth hits me.
I didn’t cause the accident.
I foretold it.
Do you dare try it?