Attorney on the Ganges – 20 Massages in 2 Months (Massage #6 continued)

Something else happened in massage #6 with Richard Oliver. The massage and cranial-sacral work on my neck revealed that the fear stored there had to do in part with a past life memory of driving off of a bridge and the choking feeling of drowning in icy water. 

On a brighter note, my inner-attorney, the one who’s been hanging out in my shoulder, the one who brings numbness to my arm whenever I sit down to write, the one who objects to all things spiritual – well, he and I came to a new understanding. 

During the massage Richard pressed his fingers firmly into the muscles at the inside of my right scapula and held them there.

“Now, release,” he said. 

I took a deep breath and let the muscles relax under his fingertips.

“Good. Again.”

Another breath.

“Excellent. Even outstanding!” he said. I tried to tell myself that his compliments were silly but in truth it felt great be told I was doing something well – even if I was just releasing tension from my body. 

“Whatever you’ve been holding in your shoulder,” he said, “it’s not good for you. You can just let it go.”

I said nothing but as Richard continued the massage I waged a protest of thought. “Of course I know that having a raging attorney – one who always has to be right, one who demands that I abandon the Divine, that which is to soul as air is to body – squatting inside my arm is not the way to true happiness! Do you think I don’t know that!”

And then, “I know that this attorney has been a subconscious influence - holding me back in ways I have not been able identify - the only clue to his existence the numbness in my arm! Now that he has surfaced, I know it’s time to let him go!”

Under the kneading action of Richard’s hands, my internal rant continued. “Knowing is not the problem! Do you think I want my arm to be numb! I don’t know what to do! I don’t know how!”

Then it occurred to me that Richard's comment was less of a criticism and more of a suggestion about how to get the letting go done. I could literally let go. It was an approach I had not tried. 

As Richard massaged, I focused into the energy in my shoulder. I found my frustrated, unshaven, intractable inner-attorney sitting at the end of a dirt road on his brief case in his brown suit. His arms were folded across his chest. He looked away from me and down at the ground. I took him by the arms and told him goodbye. I imagined myself opening my hands and the feeling of him falling away from my touch. 

Next thing I knew, in the middle of the massage, I had traveled to India. My attorney floated on his back down the Ganges River still wearing the brown suit. Pink lotus flowers were piled on his chest. There were crosses over his eyes like the ones on dead cartoon characters. I felt energy lift out of my shoulder. My outlook brightened. I saw that I had moved one more layer and that bit by bit I am moving forward.

And more than this I want to know: If and when the dead float down the Ganges River, are they ever allowed to wear their suits and if not, why?