I am not the type to venture into ethereal, bells and mood music and suchlike, but yesterday I had my first thorough massage experience and now I can see what all the fuss is about. Haha, I can see why some people feel like they’ve been reborn. This shit can actually feel pretty great!
I’ve been working almost back-to-back lately, though still not quite as much as I want to. While waiting for my turn, I played around, flipping my own tarot cards and my future card said: conflict/being torn between two worlds. I know what that means and I am ready for it. I am willing to live with it. Perhaps even make peace with it at some point. But for now, I want a career above all. Everything else may happen on their own terms.
On Tuesday, I shot another nude – an art form that’s becoming increasingly lovely for me to shoot, although I am still better at handling the originality environmentally as I am form-wise or lightning-wise.. Day after I tried to shoot a pair of Blue Russian cats, majestic as they may be, but of course that’s impossible and ironically, on the same day I shot a lovely gentle girl with a humongous black dog, hair-dressed as a lion :DDD The payment for the aristocats was a sensual touch/sound treatment – one I intent to learn and practice on the General (though he’s the type to fall asleep just hearing me talk about it.) The lady, proprietress of a truly fair apartment, also has a lovely temple-like chamber, all bright and soft, and me on the table in the middle got the full catalogue of her gifts. First she places the meditation bowls on me and rang them slightly, moving around to draw vibrating sound from other larger and smaller instruments as well (for about half an hour). I never knew I could feel my spine resonating so – it was pretty fucking incredible. Also between the large bowl, which when accelerating the swirl of its gong made me worry my head will explode, and the tiny tiny bells, she used a rain stick full of some adorable shells, which is just about the nicest meditative sound in the world. Then she turned on the indi music and started oiling me in sesame oil, tickling my whole body at first, back and legs and feet and hair, then rubbing my back. Normally the idea of being all oily would drive me mad, but trust me when I say, I haven’t showered since. Never mind I smell like a risotto (or a wheat field, General says.) My hair is so greasy it can stand horizontally, but still I am keeping it so. Somehow my skin has never felt cleaner or more healthy.
Really investing myself into the nothingness, into imagining a gentle, pale sunrise above rice paddies and green hills of China and India, where I would walk, eat or pursue Buddhist serenity, I realized a) my brain never really needs to go far to relax completely and b) I can see why some people pay money for this. To some this sort of switching off is likely vital. The opposite of this are the day jobs so stressful, only a completely abandon balances it.
As if all that wasn't bad enough, the proprietress' husband, a violin peddler, played me a tune on a fine piece of instrument he just got his hands on and, knowing me, played a song from my father's home region - one that always tears me up - and still makes the hairs on my forearms stand up. (It's a song about how all the garlands are withering "except mine, as I water it with my tears... if my tear fell on a rock, the rock would split..." and so of... Ugh. There we go. Waterworks.)
As if all that wasn't bad enough, the proprietress' husband, a violin peddler, played me a tune on a fine piece of instrument he just got his hands on and, knowing me, played a song from my father's home region - one that always tears me up - and still makes the hairs on my forearms stand up. (It's a song about how all the garlands are withering "except mine, as I water it with my tears... if my tear fell on a rock, the rock would split..." and so of... Ugh. There we go. Waterworks.)
Afterwards (my spine still warms, my hands and wrists like putty and my face and ears entirely awake from rubbing) – still utterly oily – I went home and we went hunting, sitting on the edge of the clearing again, looking at the animals come out and feed. That part of the day, when it starts to get dark and you’re in no hurry to get indoors is easily my second favorite dusk time. Right now is my first favorite dusk time – still slightly dark when we go out to jog/ walk out dogs. Winter is coming… not in a Stark sense… :DDD But I am looking forward to fall. My seasons are becoming far more … in tune to their point :)
Sara's home...
Špela's home....
The beauties and the beasts :))
