It is certain there are trout somewhere
And maybe I shall take a trout
If but I do not seem to care.
W. B. Yeats
And likewise I do not seem to care. I find it best to not seem to care as I rest my hands over the client’s tight shoulders.
We sit together, them lying on the table, I sitting on the chair, as in meditation. The purpose of this sitting is not to reach enlightenment, there may be trout, it is certain that there are…
Bony shoulders dissolve into spaciousness and sensation. I again find my hands dipping into The Ocean Within. It strikes me how clear and strong this Ocean’s tide is, like a secret hidden in plain view. It is here, within us, all the time, though rarely are we still enough.
The ebb and flow becomes clearer and I sink into its rhythm. I seek its frequency, its amplitude, its preferred directions. I’m curious about how eagerly it pulls or how harshly it pushes, whether it sings a soft song or a chaotic tempest.
Then I say “and here I am”.
I watch its dance.
Then I say, “and here I’ll follow you and follow you and follow you and when you start to lose strength I’ll step in and let’s see where we end up”. We spiral in, joined forces, steady.
That is when the well of white light opened up, two continents and a divide, and the Heart shone.