Paula Kaiman and
Brian MacDonald

Brian MacDonald
Inspiration piece

By Paula Kaiman

“Your primary problem,” said the healer, “is that, energetically, your head is disconnected from your body.  In other words, you’re not grounded.  You’re not fully present on the Earth plane.”

She’d heard versions of this all her life.  Admonished in school for gazing at length out the window, having failed to stay on task.  Caught short in meetings at work, enraptured by the vaulted picture window of her mind.  “Where’s your head?” they’d ask.

She couldn’t help it.  She perceived the world in her own unique way, navigating by the light of a secret inner beacon.  Every cell of her being thrilled at the magnificent and recoiled at the hideous, in the smallest of details and briefest of moments.  Miniature miracles and minor atrocities of which no one else seemed to take note.

The healer lit a smudge stick.  Fanning its smoke through her aura with a brown-and-white striped feather, he called to the spirit of the plant, the spirit of the bird, to bless her with their sacred magic.  When the ritual was complete, he gave her a polished crystal to help protect and reconnect her to the Earth.  The rest was up to her.

She wrote out a check and thanked him, then left for the station to make her way home.  All around her swarmed the differently disconnected.  She couldn’t bear to look.  She fingered the stone in her pocket, then buried her head in a book.


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  1. Posted December 22, 2013 at 7:45 am | #

    Brian: Is that the anteroom room to purgatory?

    Paula: Do you really see no way out?

  2. Posted December 29, 2013 at 2:11 pm | #

    Robert: It’s fiction—not a personal account.