Old Chinese Healer
he could have reported me. he may yell at me. but there I was, truly ashamed.
one day, the man I was with and I stole money from an old Chinese healer I go to across from a park in New York City.
I felt guilty.
I went to therapy.
my therapist had a picture of the act that she put on a moving arm on the wall.
in the picture, I was out and about at the usual time, Monday I think, that I go see the Chinese man.
…something about what I was wearing…a pale pink shirt
…and a video we were trying to fix. the man took over the project we were working on together and pretended it was his own.
after stealing the money, I returned to the Chinese healer’s office and squeezed into the corner of a chair.
I couldn’t believe that I had the guts to go back.
I’d stolen from him.
he could have reported me.
he may yell at me.
but there I was, truly ashamed.
he came out and was as normal, no repercussions.
loved me without any change.
sweet relaxation started to pour through me in a way I’ve never been relaxed.
[I cried in my sleep.]
I believe that he totally forgave me.
he had not sought any retribution.
I’d never felt or let in love like that.
then there was something about $50.
he said I’d already paid him back.
then I wondered if I paid him $50 or $500 a week.
[this writing does not capture the magnificence of the transformation that occurred.
or the kindness of this man.]