I'll take the time.

Sometimes I think that just being grateful is the best thing you can do. Sometimes it's best to do this when you are really busy and don't have enough time to dedicate to yourself. Right now I'll be grateful for a few minutes and allow myself some quality me time before rushing off to the next thing. (Read: Bed)

In blogs past I've talked about my self loathing over the years. But that isn't what this is about. No, this is about self love.

Somewhere between this past winter and the summer I just sort of decided to stop not liking myself. It wasn't that my dislike for me was over the top or even noticeable to most people but it was something that needed improving. I worked it at. I really tried to become something like the person I really want to be. And then something magical happen and there I was. Happy with me.

I can't put my finger on what exactly made me have a change of heart. When I reflect on all the goodness of the past year and half I think it may have been a couple of things. My final and full switch to veganism (for my self, not ceasing the purchase of dairy products for my kid) and a belief that the person who claims to love me most in the world really does and for all the right reasons. This has brought the advent of self love upon me in a full and fantastic way.

Yea, I think I'm a good person but most people do. It isn't that hard to think you're nice or generous, in fact most people do when they in fact are not. But what I've finally learned to love is my skin. My outer self. The stuff I show to you. (Unless Dan is reading this and then the stuff I show to you takes on another meaning.)

What I mean is that I'm okay. I can see myself for what I am and be okay. Not in love all the time but always okay and never dwelling. I can see that I've got a curve to my hips and be okay. I can accept that I've had a baby and no amount of wishing is going to make that less obvious. Because I did. And what I have to show for that is proof that the most extraordinary thing ever happened to me. Not only can I give life but I can accept what giving life does. I can accept that I do, in fact, have an ass. And if I see myself and think "Ugh...." I just stop and walk away or tell myself that that negative isn't real and right away I'm okay again.

This is progress. This is the hope I have for my daughter, whose very life has given me scars. And do I care? No. That has a lot to do with my changing image of the world, what beauty is and those who love and desire me.

SO yea, there are things I want to be different. I want to exercise more because it's good for me and I want to challenge myself. But whatever that work yields me is not my goal right now. My goal is to remain healthy and aware of my own beauty and the beauty of others.

Why I am a vegetarian - The snarky answer.

A lot of people ask me why I'm a vegetarian. It's strange, though, because usually they don't let me finish before they say "I just couldn't give up bacon!" and laugh. Then turn away. For those who care or want to know - here goes.

I'm a vegetarian, primarily, because I care about animals. I see a few big differences between us and them, sure, but aren't we all just...animals?(The answer is yes) If humans were being kept in crates, forced to eat other humans and eventually slaughtered would we care? Umm..... YES! So why is it okay for animals to be treated like that? I mean it. Ask yourself this. Why is it okay with you? Because they can't voice their complaints or aren't smart enough to write down grievances?

Animals are just as capable of feeling pain, fear and unhappiness as we are. They form families and bonds with one another, they have the capacity to love. But what they don't have is the ability to think like we do and to speak. To me, this gives us a great responsibility to care for them. Not kill them. Read that again because it is very important. We are the caretakers of those who cannot speak for themselves. In some cases that means literally caring for them. And in this case it means LEAVE THEM ALONE. That's all you have to do.
One way to judge a society is to look at how it cares for the weakest, humblest and most incapable among them. Animals fit this, I don't care what you say. They are living beings who share this world with us. They have lives. Their own lives. No, cows don't go to their cow jobs and work in their cow cubicles all day and then go have affairs with the cow babysitters. But they have a system in place. They have a society, too.

If there was a mute, mentally handicapped child should we kill it, then? Eat it? Why not? Animals aren't that bright and they can't plead with you to stop so...isn't it the same?

So you get my point. In my eyes this is the same. For me, this is a huge factor.

Second - We don't need to do it. I could be alright with the pain and suffering if we needed it to survive but let's be honest. We don't. I know you like to go out for a burger or have a nice steak but guess what? I don't think your enjoyment on a Friday night should mean that something should spend it's life in torment and eventually be killed. I just don't. Find another way to enjoy yourself - sorry, that's just how I feel. I'm not judging people on an individual basis here but it's just silly. Meat eaters say "Wow I could never give up steak." But I did. I can. Am I better than you? Well stop treating me like I am and then getting pissed off that I say things like the above statement. I don't think I"m better than you. But apparently you do or you wouldn't always be showing me my strengths and highlighting your weaknesses.

Let's move on.

Health reasons. This is a no brainer. Nobody is disputing that vegetarians are some of the healthiest among us. If they are they have never read a book in their lives. They're obviously mentally handicapped and should be put in some sort of crate. That way they will be immobilized and we can partake of their softened flesh. (Yes I just described how veal is made.)

On an evolutonary note we just don't need to eat meat now. There is no hunter left in us. Well, not outside the sporting goods store anyway. Here is how you can be sure.

You're hungry and pass a field with three cows in it. Do you A) Jump out of the car, use your lightening speed to gain on the cow, take your powerful claws and rip into its flesh and then use your sharp incisors to eat it's flesh B) Grab some Twizzlers from your glove box or C) Make your way to the nearest middle eastern restauant. If you answered A there is something wrong with you. THIS IS NOT HOW WE ARE BUILT. Humans are NOT predators. We don't have the equipment to be predators, we don't have the instinct and without weapons we are totally incapable of killing anything. Even evolution wishes you didn't eat meat.
Sure, animals kill one another. But they have the predatory instinct, sharp claws and teeth and speed to do it. They have their own system in place here. They do, trust me. And until the moment they die or are killed by a predator they live normal animal lives. They aren't forced into cruel situations for their entire life span. Get me?

So that's why. That's all of it.

And yea, it's snarky. Yea I get upset it sometimes. But it's my blog - I do what I want!

The end of an era.

Five more days of work spread across the next two weeks of my life and then I am done.

The surreal giddiness I'm feeling these days is, I am sure, what life is all about.

I've been a massage therapist for seven years, making it the only career I've ever had in my adult life. Sure, I worked other jobs but I was never able to stop doing massage entirely. Massage therapists live in world all of their own. Kind of like carnies, only we shower. We all want to help heal people but when it comes down to it we would really rather not take that last appointment. Doing massage is painful. That's about all there is to it. You never really know how much money you're going to make or if you'll be booked solid. It's a guessing game as much as it is anything. I've wanted to get out for years.

It was the wistful child in me that wanted to become a therapist in the first place. I was changing life paths and massage seemed like a good idea. I studied hard, graduated with an A and as speaker of my class and went on to hold many jobs in Flint, Chicago, Detroit - big cities where I made a big impact. I love that. I love that I've helped so many people. Only now things are different.

Ya see, I've always been the sort of girl that gives to others at the peril of myself. I'll give and give and give and be unhappy and then, just for good measure, I will give some more. My painful divorce followed by my happy reunion with my now husband changed all that. I still love to give but I do it within my means. If my husband has taught me anything it is that I am more valuable than I realize and I deserve happiness. Not "one day" happiness but NOW. And that is what I am doing. Right now. No more waiting.

So I get to stop working all together - a thing I have not done in years and years. I get to go pursue my dreams and my goals. I get to start using my mind more and my body less. I get to be happy and for the first time in my life, I don't have to feel guilty about that.

And now, as I sit here making a list of the things I want to do today, I have added one very special task. Take the massage books off the bookshelf, put them away in a box, and put my school books in their place. That's going to be a lot of books to put away.

I thought I wanted to have a party to celebrate my retirement but, no. This has been a long, arduous journey and I think the departing from this path should be done alone. I will take the Assosicated Bodywork and Massage Professional sticker off of my back windshield and replace it with a decal from my college. I'll make a list of all the things I can do now that I am not massaging anymore. #1. I can wear my wedding ring all the time. #2. I can stop buying economy sized advil. ;)

The dismount is so hard.

Dying is a lonely bizness. (See, I spelled business differently so I could be original!)

I guess I consider myself a humanist/athesit/I wish death wasn't the end-ist. Lemme explain. No no, it's too much. Let me sum up.

Growing up (indoctrinated) into Lutheranism I had a strong belief in God. Fast forward to post high school years and I started to question things. I got into paganism really strongly for a long time and I liked it here. Non judgey, free spirited and all inclusive. A very cool philosophy. Fast forward a few years into this paganism morphing into simple spirituality and we've reached the point in my life where I've felt most comfortable with my spiritual beliefs.

I didn't believe in a God - but I did believe there was a tie that binds. A thread that connects every living thing. This thread was not an evil thread, nor was it a good thread as threads cannot be good or evil. It was just there constantly connecting us all. When we died we would achieve some other kind of awareness and who we are in the center - the rich creamy hazelnut center of us all - would live on forever because energy cannot be destroyed, it can only change form.

This belief was superior to my previous beliefs because it was truly all inclusive. There was nothing to sell or fear or try to prove yourself to. It was just a quiet knowing that we continue.
But somewhere along the line I lost this belief. Was it directly related to my husbands interests? Sure. But he was not the first atheist I encountered. I've known plenty of them and loved plenty of them too. I was, of course, interested in knowing more about what he believed..or didn't believe...and it was this knowing that forced me to drop the spiritual talk.

It's like finding out santa doesn't exist. Once you know it you can't pretend like you don't. And while I feel like my most satisfying previous view of life and death made me happy, I understand that it has not and cannot be proven. Or disproven. But it is very unlikely to be true.

I want to be happy about it. It is rare for a person to see facts and drop what he wants to be true for what he knows is. I can do that and for that I am proud of myself. The thing is I'm not happy about this death thing. I'm pretty mad about it, actually. But let me tell you why.

I feel like more. That's why. I feel like more than this limited time I have on earth and how is it fair, for even one moment, that I should raise a child and love a husband and have friends that mean so much to me and care for my parents and one day I lose it all? If only God existed so that I could be mad at him. And I won't lost it in big chunks, it will slowly fall away. Or I will.

I feel like I am made of magic, at times. Like the way the Fall breeze blows through my hair and thrills me or the feeling I get when I smell incense is so impossibly important and intricate that it can't be mere evolution. It must be ME. A deep and soulful me who not only lives but feels. The idea that that can end - that it will - is painful.

But I can't get away from the truth. I see what science has to offer and understand this to be the most logical answer, one that I would like to be okay with before I die. This is growth on a new level only I'm not branching off into some other wacky belief system. I'm finally growing UP. And I like it. I like what it has to say, I dig it. I just don't like this death stuff.

Magic is real.

No, not the witchy spell kind. The feeling.

Yesterday was a beautiful Fall day right in the beginning of summer. It was overcast and gray, and chilly enough to need long sleeves. I love those kinds of days, when it threatens to rain and you're never quite sure when it's going to hit.
I spent the morning napping and finally woke up to my husband playing around on the computer. I decided errands were paramount, so we took off for the better part of the day enrolling me in school, shopping at the Farmers Market, lunching and spending time together.
After a delicious bath I started to get ready for the shoot. The TV shoot. The one where I play headmistress of a school and more importantly, the devil herself.
I fill my bag with all the requirements. Velvet corset, leather skirt, black stockings, knee high leather boots, a whip and of course devil horns.
My 45 minute trek was peaceful, as I listened to Tori Amos and the smell of my Vampire Lestat perfume oil filled the car with reminders of adolescent adventures. I arrived at the shoot in Pontiac and walked into the haunted house. As if it didn't feel like Fall already I was getting a sneak peek into this four story attraction that is being readied for Halloween - the most holiest of holidays.
I am immediately sat in a make up chair where, for the better part of an hour, I sit and think about the magic going on. It's a feeling. A desire for adventure. And I am here in the whirlwind of makeup and line readings and werewolves and witch doctors and laughter.
They're ready for me unusually early this time and I peel myself out of that chair at last. I'm amazed at the way I look, at the transformation the artists has done. I was unaware that I could look that way.
Now the best part. The costume. First comes the stockings, then the boots followed by the skirt and finally the corset. My hair is pinned up, my horns are set in place and I am ready to be on set.
It's warm. I am being oggled at first entrance. Complimented and clearly lusted after. I may not agree with everything these men think, but I still know what they're thinking. A girl is tied up in a chair on the set. Shes dressed in a school girl uniform and her arms are bound. A whip hands around my neck, a pair of plyers in my hands. We roll. I do the whole thing in one take, and exit to applaud.

I sneak into my house, take off my makeup and tip toe into my bedroom. My sweet husband kisses me and tells me that he loves me while snuggeling up to me. I fall asleep next to him, completley confident in his abilities to take care of our daughter when I am away. I am happy and complete.

This is magic. This is life. This is what it means to actually FEEL alive, not just BE alive.

Confessions of a married woman.

I confess that I am happy. I really hope you didn't think I was going to say anything more juicy than that. :)

Our wedding was beautiful. It was just what I had hoped for it to be, partly because I didn't set expectations on it. What made it beautiful was that we had loved ones all around and the dearest of them all, my lovely husband, was next to me the entire time.

The whirlwind started on Thursday with hot tubing and gigging and culminated in a terrific honeymoon, well appointed with relaxation and romance. And lots and lots of hot tub action.

We're home now. Does it feel different? Nah. Not really. There is a certain unexplainable giddiness in calling this man my husband. There is a joy in hearing him call me wife. Given that I don't put too much importance in these words it confuses at times, but I'll take it. Because I like being happy.

I guess I didn't name this blog appropriately.

Pomp and circumstance? Indeed.

Yesterday, while at my sisters graduation, I made a little comment to my mom.

"Don't worry, when I graduate in two years I won't make you sit through this."

I thought it was funny as there was a lady speaking who was about as engaging as a box of rocks.

"Oh, yes you will." she replied. And I laughed a little and said, "No really. I don't like graduation ceremonies. No big deal." And she looked at me then as though I was an alien and said, "You wouldn't do that to me." And I looked at her as though she was my mother and said, "It isn't about you." She sat there for a moment, clearly trying to exhibit some authority and finally said, "I'm older. I win." I cocked my head to one side to reply. "It's my life. I win."

Obviously she was upset. The conversation didn't end there but what's the point of continuing? There was a lot of looking and cocking ones head to the side and debating.

My issue is twofold at this point.
1) My mother's favorite parenting tactic is guilt and when she cannot get her way she moves to threatening and finally she plays the victim. Another form of guilt. If we were raised Jewish I could maybe understand this. I get that my mom has been victimized a lot in her life but at some point you have to take hold of that pain by understanding it and changing it. She's never done this and so in her eyes every little offense is directed at her. What she cannot and will probably not ever understand is that it isn't up to her children to make her happy. It is up to her to seek only happiness for her children and feel the benefits.

2) Graduations are not fun. I don't have a problem if someone wants to partake. I'll go and support them. But for me, the LAST thing I want to do is go sit in an arena for three hours listening to boring people say boring things and watch a million other people walk on stage all so I can walk on stage for 15 seconds and have my family dimly yell, "Wooooo" at me.
Oh no no no. Let's just go to Bada West and eat hummus. I assure you this will please me much more. And guess what? It's about ME. And if you're graduating it's about YOU. And also you couldn't pay me to wear that hideous gown and cap combo. YIKES!

P.S. Why is there a benediction at a graduation ceremony? Why do they talk about God so much? WHY WHY WHY?!?!?!?!

Body image or why I can never stop straightening my shirt.

For a long time I thought I had body dysmorphic disorder.

Body dysmorphic disorder (BDD) (previously known as Dysmorphophobia^[1] and sometimes referred to as Body dysmorphia) (also known as "Dysmorphic syndrome," and "Dysmorphophobia"^[2]) is a psychiatric disorder in which the affected person is excessively concerned about and preoccupied by an imagined or minor defect in his or her physical features.

Now I just think I'm human.

I know this all started somewhere. At some point when I was very young the idea crept into my head that I didn't look like I was supposed to. Maybe it was because my sister was in beauty pageants and I wasn't. That always made me feel ugly, because why couldn't I do it too? I just assumed I was the gross kid. I watched a lot of grown up movies at a young age, so maybe it was seeing older woman in film that cinched it. I remember being in kindergarten and thinking I was fat. It's true. I've felt that way ever since, and not just fat but all kinds of things. I happened to be born with crazy curly hair that was different and sometimes frizztastic. I happened to be born with a form of strabismus, which in simple terms means that there is a defective neurological signal to my eyes that have, over time, made them weak. Despite surgery. It's mostly cosmetic and still I've hated myself for it. But who cares about any of those things? Curly hair and curves and non perfect muscles don't make someone ugly. But try telling that to a teen girl.

Somewhere along the line someone told me I was pretty. I don't remember who but it could have been my mom. I grew older and did more shows and although I always felt too gross to be worthy of a leading lady role, I still got noticed in the theatre scene. I didn't understand it but I accepted it. Guys started becoming interested in me, which was really very baffling to this scared girl who always wanted to stay home and hide herself under the covers.

I started becoming aware that I had something men wanted but I couldn't figure it out. Then I became aware that my girlfriends actually believed I was pretty too - and this I could not understand at all. This I could not accept.

In time I eventually grew to believe that I could make myself tolerable with enough make up and hair product. I had boyfriends, I left them, I dated I got married. Somewhere in my early twenties my best friend had this idea that we should take artsy, risque photos of ourselves for fun. We did, and it was great and I started to believe that if I could force myself to do this kind of art I may be able to find a way out of my self loathing. It helped a lot - those photos were not always easy for me to do, but I'm so glad I found a way to become uninhibited with a trusted friend.

Now here I am, 26, and at times I am no better than I was twenty years ago. Where is the switch that I can turn on that allows me to let go of this nonsense feeling of not being worthy enough? When do I reach the point of feeling like my hips and belly and hair and eyes and skin and ass are actually beautiful? Life is too short. I never want to feel anything less than amazing.

What's important is that I KNOW these thoughts are old patterns and unhealthy ones too. I don't hold anyone but myself to these ideals - and I think they are silly notions that should be done away with all together. I'm getting better. I'm getting there.

A few tricks I've learned along the way, for those dealing with these same issues.

1. When someone complements you, do not negate them. Take it in. Believe it and remember it so you can recall it if you're feeling down.

2. Take photos of yourself and note all the positives. There are many.

3. Understand that some people are meant to be curvy and some skinny and some in between. Sometimes there isn't anything you can do about that.

4. People are born with all kinds of issues. Learn to love it. You can't always change everything you dislike about yourself.

5. Stop comparing yourself to other people. You wont ever be anyone but yourself.


It's not a pretty blog. It's just something I deal with from time to time.

....I'm bad at ending blogs......

I just gotta say it!

I don't believe that you have to be in a relationship to be happy, and I don't believe that anyone else can really make you whole. I'm sure my enthusiasm at my relationship comes off that way, but it's really not. What I'm excited about is finding someone who so compliments me. Someone who I am genuinely and amazingly happy with and since I know that is rare I have no other emotion to feel but happiness.

Dan does so many things for me that I can't keep track. In the beginning I tried, but all the awesome things just kept coming! I realized I didn't need to hermetically seal each event because there were fresh ones to enjoy all the time! Then I started learning how to incorporate this new found joy into my life without taking it for granted.

For example: Today I came home from work, figuring it to be a rather usual day. I would spend an hour at home before going to get Willow. There was a card on the door with a clue as to the whereabouts of my surprise. It was a large hummus from Bada West.
Then he offered to pick Willow up for me. And he gave me a massage. And took the videos back.
What's more is that since our wallets are not fat these days he decided that the best use of our money was to make me feel happy and loved. Instead of freaking out and being upset about what we don't have he took hold of what we DO have and used it to bring a smile to my face.

This is rare. This is not your average person. I don't care that everyone is probably sick of me being so gushy about my partner/boyfriend/husband.

I'm happy, god damnit, and it is enriched by the fact that I wasn't happy for sooooooo long.

Way to rock my face.

What is this thing called wedding?

I sat down to a nice dinner tonight having decided to watch TV while I eat. I don't watch much TV. In fact, if it were not for Willow I would almost never turn the thing on. As I was scanning the channels for something awesome or ridiculous I ran across the most awesomley ridiculous show ever called "Whose wedding is it anyway?" I was pretty sure I knew that answer would be a rich bitch bride, and I was right.

All this TV watching was thought provoking or rather thought remembering. "Oh yea", I said to myself between bits of tofu and potato "I hate this shit." But let me tell you why.

I am not one for tradition because most tradition is laced with horror stories of things I would rather not take part in and what is not horrific is not significant There I said it. My issues begin with the institution itself, but if you have two people who are on the same page about this I can agree that you should reap some governmental rewards. Fine, I'm over it.

What I don't understand is why brides obsess over this and that and every god damned little thing right down to hair. I don't understand why people struggle to spend thousands of dollars for such bullshit, and even if they don't struggle to pay for it they have loads of stress - and all to present an appearance to people who will undoubtedly forget about all of it.*Open bars make you do that*

If I had the money to put on a grand event for my friends I would be happy to do so. I'd pay someone to plan it and not care a wit about what happened next. Unfortunately, I cannot afford to do this so I'm fucking off and doing my own thing. OUR own thing. Because getting married isn't just about the bride, it's about the couple and I'm so tired of the emphasis on the woman. If this is not equally about these two people than what is going on in the world?!?!

My wedding day (taking places two weeks from today) is going to be a culmination of immense love and joy, and a further banishing of a pain that I have worked so hard to heal. This is why my marriage is important. If I had to marry this man wearing a potato sack and standing in the middle of a mud puddle my joy would be no less and unfortunately I have to question if most women would agree to also marry their partners in such a way if they had to.
It's great I don't have to do that because I can enjoy the day as a well rounded experience with family and friends - but I would do that.

What are in peoples hearts when they stand hand in hand at the altar? (or proscenium...)

Ya know what's going to be in mine?

"I've already committed to this man. He looks so handsome....oh Dean is funny in that hat....my moms looks cute in that outfit....I want a scone.....let me say my vows real quick....okay, that's over...cool..oooo yea a kiss! score!......can I go to Florida now?"

Lurnin is a skary bidness.

I can't be sure when my aversion to school started but I think it was somewhere around my first day of Kindergarten. I always hated having to leave home and go be with people who either made fun of me or I had a crush on. (I remember giving Brandon Spangler my FAVORTIE purple crayon when I was five. This was a clear sign of my affection. An affection that lasted for nine years. The purple crayon thing didn't work....)

Anyway so back to my never liking school. My real dislike was mostly in high school and this was for many reasons. I blame my poor childhood diet for one. I was allowed to eat whatever I wanted totally unmonitored. A typical dinner would consist of a hamburger with some white bread and as much coke as I could drink. Dessert? Well, that depends? How many swiss cake rolls we got?

I wasn't encouraged to be active so I wasn't. My mom was gone to work so I just watched TV all night after the inevitable rehearsal or five hour conversation with whomever I was dating at the time. Whatever. I didn't sleep well as a result and getting up for school was grueling. I couldn't concentrate.

Then there were other things *excuses* like pining away for an older gentleman, dreaming of my career in showbiz and learning LINES LINES LINES god damnit. I did okay, but it was tough. Not because I'm stupid but because I didn't care.

Fast forward to now. I'm ready to change my life and my unhappiness in my current career choice and I genuinely want to plunge face first into the ASL program. I'm terrified that I won't be able to grasp the information. I'm terrified that my artist side will slowly be smothered under mounds of homework. I'm scared I won't like it as much as I think I will now. Ill have to quit work to do this and I'm scared that there won't be enough money.

Sometimes, even when you see them coming, you aren't ready for the big moments.

I've been dreaming of going back to school for years and I finally can. I'm so scared about it but I know that this opportunity is so rare. I have to take it, scared or no. I'm going to.

But seriously, can someone take my math tests for me?

Energy shmenergy.

Energy Work: This involves many different massage modalities. It comes from Eastern Medicine and the belief that there is more to the human body than what can be seen physically. Most of these modalities date back thousands of years. Western cultures and medicine are only just starting to realize that energy work is real, although inexplicable.

Source: http://www.altmd.com/Specialists/Full-Throttle-Massage-Inc--Chattanooga-TN/Blog/Massage-Terminology-In-Plian-English-part-2-of-3

I looked for another source to give me the definition of energy work, but most sites wanted to give me the definition of HOW energy works. Physics and stuff. What I'm talking about is nothing so concrete.

In my profession energy work is commonplace. If you can't fix something for someone you can do energy work. If you think someone feels "off", go ahead and do energy work. I used to believe in all that because THEY TEACH IT IN SCHOOL. Don't be too horrified when I tell you this but a clinical and accredited institution includes segments on reading auras and polarity. Ah yes, my dollars hard at work. I can't blame therapists for believing this nonsense when their teachers have said it is so. I believed this nonsense for along time. That is, until I grew up.

The above definition says that energy work is "inexplicable" but real. How are those things mutually exclusive? Let me give you a scenario run down and you tell me what it sounds like:

A client enters the room for a Reiki session (Yup, I'm even a level two practitioner) and lays down on the table. The room is warm, it's darkened and there is soft music playing. She is instructed to breathe deeply and consistently for a long period of time. Someone has their hands on or near her and with her senses heightening this warmth is easy to feel. She is instructed to relax and let go. When the session is over she feels renewed, refreshed and happier. The practitioner, who wants to believe in this modality of healing and is ALREADY CONVINCED IT WORKS, feels that they have done well and continue scamming people unawares.

You ready for the science of it? http://www.nda.ox.ac.uk/wfsa/html/u10/u1003_01.htm


This one's pretty great too: http://www.bodymindsuccess.com/oxygen-affect-pain-management/

But when I mention that I don't do energy work because I don't believe in it people look at me like I have gone insane. Let me plainly say why I don't do this.

It is not real. There is no proof of it's existance nor of it's effects on a person.
This is voodoo therapy and anyone who takes your money for it is wasting your time. I urge you to sit in a dark room and deep breathe for a while. NOBODY has the power to manipulate your "force field" and if they think that they do walk away. No, run. Fast. And then come see me because I'll do some real therapy on you and if I can't help you I will direct you to real answers. I promise.

This is not cynicism on my part. This is realism. I'm open to changing my point of view but I need proof. Not anecdotal evidence but some fact.
No, nothing terrible happened to me to make me change my mind about energy work. I just grew up. I'm not going to live my life based on things that are so unrealistic and I'm sure as hell not going to base my WORK on them.

In the notorious words of Bill Maher:

"Do you believe in Santa Clause or the easter bunny? Of course not.....that would be ridiculous."