nax nok

A week ago Friday I was unable to work on the computer, so decided to head to my studio until the heavens opened up and a river flooded the streets, so I sat in a chair and discovered something new. Energy that went from me to another, back and forth in an infinity symbol. It filled me so full that I had to expend it, or I was going to spontaneously combust. The next person that stepped into my sight was Cindy Goldman who just finished with a client.

Laying on the table with music playing and candles lit, she experienced the ride of her life, as did I. I still don't understand what it is or how it rolls but I know it's powerful, intense, and life-altering. I was trained many years ago in energy therapy. I even did a double-blind study on how it affects people with chronic pain. The results were astonishing. In spite of that, I soon dropped out of the energy scene. I was taught to look for something "wrong" with the person on my table, and that felt wrong to me.

This time it's different. I do not give out information on what happens during the sessions because I don't join my clients on their trips. I stand in the midst of the most amazing energy soaking it in, filling up, and sending it out. It's a lovely exchange. The more I do this, the more real it is to me and the less real the physical world becomes. I bask in energy that feels good and scoot away from that which doesn't.

And that brings me to what happened last Friday night. I was over at Square Burger with my friends, Tammy and Sonja, when I was telling them about the name of this energy, nax nok, and how it came about.

A friend and I were at the American Indian Museum in Manhattan when he found the name in one of the exhibits. It means supernatural power. The exhibit's description was this:

"Our ancestors inhabited a universe of powerful spirits. They understood that people and supernatural beings coexisted, and that interactions between them were frequent. For our ancestors, all success came from nax nok, a cosmic being who gave strength to deserving individuals. Nax nok could be revealed in dreams and visions, or through encounters with animals."

After leaving Manhattan that day we went to his house in Connecticut and eventually Googled nax nok. While doing that, there was an animal in his back yard that caught my eye. It walked along his rock wall but stopped right across from us long enough for him to take pictures. He'd never seen anything like it before or since. It was a black mink, and that's how nax nok was revealed to us.

It was an amazingly wonderful and magical weekend spent with him. We watched The Last of the Mohicans. He played the soundtrack while giving me a massage in his bedroom, and before I left he burned a copy of the music for me. That's the CD I play in my energy sessions, and all of these are reasons that I began to think of this man again after almost two and a half years. I am in awe of all that has transpired since then and how it's led me back to him. It's such a surprise but yet when I look back at the magic of it all, it appears perfectly orchestrated.

So, after all these years I'm doing energy work again. I'm creating jewelry with an essential nax nok oil blend. And every moment spent in this energy envelopes me in the energetic being I call Jim. It feels so good that I don't want to do anything else.

Wake up to the WTF of it all...

Thank you, Jason Mraz, for the title of this blog.

Manhattan's on TV and siren's are sounding outside: "A local authority has initiated a direct community access." This just flashed across the TV screen, and then in a soft female voice, I hear: "This is only a test."

WTF? What's not a test? Isn't just showing up here day after day after a day a test to see how you do in this moment? Isn't everything an opportunity to say fuck it and do it your way as only you can do? Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it...fuck everything. Just show up and be present. Nothing else ever matters.

When my father was dying, I stood by his hospital bed waiting for one word, just one word that let me know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was loved as wildly and feverishly by him as I loved him. I had waited to hear his car pull up every evening. I couldn't wait to open his door before he could even turn off the ignition. The safest place in the world had always been with my head pressed against his chest and his arms squeezing me close. Years later at the ripe old age of 24, I stood beside his bed, holding his hand waiting to hear any whispers that he might utter. After hours of waiting, I heard his words: "Make sure you get all the belts counted in the bay. Inventory is due before the week's over." His eyes were open, but he looked away from me as if one of his employees was on the other side of the room. Those were the last words I heard him speak.

My father's taught me so much in life, about life, and about what's important in living. As we walked down the aisle together with my soon-to-be husband at the altar, my father told me while smiling to the crowd in the pews that I could just say the word and we'd turn around and leave the church. I plastered a smile on my face and kept walking forward. Four years later he was in that hospital room. He had just turned 58. He worked all day and all night. The word relax was not in his vocabulary. I learned that naps were unheard of, that any moment not working was a wasted moment, and that I needed to justify my reason for being by making money, cleaning, etc. Move, move, move...do, do, do...

I'm now inching towards the age my dad was back in that hospital room, and I'm rearranging how I view what's important to me. The doing isn't as essential as the being. I move when I breathe. I see the grand view instead of the little dramas. I breathe instead of scream. I relax. I take naps. I enjoy my moments instead of constant planning, achieving, and setting and resetting goals. I show up. I just show up and allow the magic to happen.