TEN MINUTES

Wednesday.

I am going to be late.

I have an appointment with Matty. She's a good friend and former dance partner. We created a dance piece set to the music Juego Zagat called "Spies in Love" (many years ago). Everyone loved it. We performed it often.

Now Matty is Feldenchirst practioner.

I bike down the west side highway. The wind is blowing north (against me).
I take it personally.

There's a Housing Works thrift shop across the street from Matty's apartment building in the west village.
I love thrift shops.
Matty finds me there.

We scale the 4 or 5 flights or her building. The rickety building consists of tiny studios with non-working fireplaces all renting for $1500.
I climb the stairs like a toddler. My hands out in front of me. Paddling up the stairs.

Matty's work with me is microscopic. Feldenchrist is about teaching and listening to your body. It's intuitive.
When you make a small movement with your arm or foot or leg, observe how it effects the rest of your body, your breath. your thoughts, and later I realize, my voice

We talk about how learning through the discipline of lonely focused self discovery is (really) the most powerful.

In all disciplines.

It is that lonely commitment to being by your self and shutting out the rest of the world. The RISK! That this lonely work is worth it. It takes confidence and a leap of faith. Belief that the solemn alone time working on your body, your mind, your writing, your crafts, your piano skills, your book keeping, is just as valuable and worthy as the colorful, loud parade outside.

I bring Matty a portion of a chicken casserole I made in my new (Crate & Barrel) casserole dish.
She gives me an herbal helmet that has been found to be effective with MS and Parkinson’s.

She had given me the literature-instructions weeks ago.

I still have it.

Where?

Taped into a scrappy (to do) book? Shelved in a box? or a bookcase behind a stack of magazines I still to need to read?
(that New York Times magazine with the Neil Labute interview), The New Yorker, Men's Health - this year's 100 Things To Do! (to look your best and be your healthiest!)

Ha!

These sexy headlines don't hold sway over me (anymore). Eat the right things and lose that gut!?

I'm trying to hang onto that gut!

You realize that all of those healthy magazines are terrible nonsense... because in the end it's about being gentle to your body, listening to your own individual needs. Those magazines are an excuse to stare at pretty people and sell ads.

Of course.

We go over (as we often do) the various therapies that could be cool. There is a Tai-Chi Gong workshop coming up.
Maio Facial, cranial, so many therapies to think about! (To be confused about)

(I think about my friend Janet who, when she was ill, kept receiving books from friends and relatives about alternative therapies for cancer. She told me that she wanted to tell all her well wishers, " How 'bout this? ... why don't YOU read these books and then give me an outlined summary.
So I gave her my SAG screeners and a book of photography)

Matty and I talk about the power of mediation. Ten minutes a day. Ten minutes is all it takes. And I realize that everything takes a solemn, focused, lonely, ten minutes a day.

Matty's next client arrives and I bike to S'nice on Hudson and eat broccoli and cauliflower for $5.

Then I bike to Soho and go to CAFE CAFE.
I have a small coffee and a sugary bannana walnut muffin for about $4.

The guy behind the counter (25-ish) notices my iphone cover. We have an intimate talk about iphone covers.

(I had this same iphone cover conversation in the elevator at work yesterday. And will have another one later at the coat closet at Church. We are all looking for easy ways to connect to each other. The iphone cover conversation is ideal and easy for making a connection)

When our conversation about the iphone cover is done (hard plasic vs. soft rubber), the counter person and I are embarassed, because he has to go back to being a counter person and I have to go back to being a paying customer instructing him

"I want SKIM milk, not WHOLE milk."

I try to soften the blow of my damands because we're fellow iphone owners with concerns about the iphones covers. We've bonded.

At CAFE CAFE, I read a book about the wonders of guided imagery for people with HIV and cancer.

Another lonely, focused, 10 minutes (to add to my day).

Directly across the street, Uma Thurman is shopping at a super glamorous kitchen store.
There is a gaggle of photographers waiting for her outside.

I take pictures of the photographers (taking pictures of Uma) (with my iphone). They enjoy this.

I meander around Soho and marvel at the new construction.

I love Soho.

I've never been one to shun wealth.
And Soho reeks of rich, (well to do) family life. It feels grand and old world. The stores have to (work it) to survive the rent down there. I appreciate this.

At Church. Christ heals. All is perfect. No errors.
The power of G-d is always with you and G-d's power is a calm, peaceful one.

KILLING GIANTS

Tonight, I'm told the story of David and Golliath.
David didn't use a sword or armor to bring down the giant.

He used one stone and aimed well.

I already have what I need.

PET STORY

The next time I see Dr. Wang, I am late.
But I call first. Turns out I have the wrong day as well.

Such is my mind these days.

We go into his drab office and he begins the pre-needle interview.
He asks me if I have been doing my foot exercises.
I tell him I have. Ten minutes a day.

"Good, I can see that you've made progress."

He reminds me (however) that I must close my eyes and concentrate.
That I must shut the door and take a moment and say to myself,
"now I am to begin my foot exercises," and THEN... begin.
Using both feet at the same time to teach my lame foot to behave like my stronger foot.
I must take care. I must be solemn and pay respect.

(I picture the flower from the Little Prince. I am to think of my right foot as that needy conceited rose that the Little Prince loves)

I tell Dr. Wang I have a cat that insists on sleeping on top of my feet every night.
No matter how much I move, no matter how much abuse this cat receives from my kicking and turning over, the cat patiently waits for me to come to a resolve so that it may (again) nurse my angry feet.

My feet are the cat's needy flower.

This story creates a smile across Dr. Wang's face that so shifts and distorts his likeness (it startles me), a smile he can't shake, a smile that changes and grows so leisurely, we have to wait for it to finish before we can move onto the business of sticking needles into me.

(the power of a pet story)

After the session, as I lie on the bed (like a child being woken up by a parent) Dr. Wang stands before me and describes (with great animation) his successes helping people walk again.

I enjoy his story telling. It's inspirational and I feel safe and taken care of.

And I like Dr. Wang's plain direct approach.

Like,

I tell him that I feel tired and flu-ish.
He tells me that I'm dehydrated and need to check that my urine is clear.

Simple as that.

When I speak to western doctors or PT's they casually offer that that the symptoms I describe are signs of the disease.
(Don't say that! (I think) don’t offer up more evidence of doom!

Before I leave Dr. Wang’s, I use the bathroom and realize that this building isn't from the sixties, it's from the forties. (The fixtures are that confident, thick ceramic, sturdy kind, the kind that they don't use anymore.

As I leave, Mrs. Wang is working at a laptop next to the unplugged, vintage desktop from the '80's.

Later, I feel better. Exuberant.