While the therapist gave me a massage and passed over my solar plexus posterior region, I felt my heart’s desire cry out because it seems I had missed connecting with him – once again diverged from “right timing.”
While I tried to just allow the anguish to process, the therapist moved down to my hips, legs, and then calves. The left one was very tight, but the right ome felt dessicated – like wood, she said.
As I was lulled by her hands’ rhythmic patterns, I was suddenly transported to a vision of a dark, reddish-brown, curly-haired wolf-man with full fascial beard who was dressed exceedingly well and standing successfully in a New York office high-rise.
He had apparently been energetically borrowing my leg to help him pass more as human and gain wealth with acclaim. Put’s a whole new meaning to “having a leg to stand on!”
So I joked with my therapist and told him, “I need this back – and how about giving me some of that energetic boost from your successful overage to expand my own finances and ensure that I never again have to experience poverty?”
Seems a fair exchange to me that we would both benefit by winning.
(My eldest used to joke and say the title phrase with a silly voice to me.)
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