I saw a video on YouTube that really stuck with me...
It was the rescue of a stray dog. First seen at night, scared eyes reflecting the light of the smartphone documenting its capture, the poor creature was filthy and matted but you could still tell it was white underneath the weeks if not months of neglect. It was some kind of maltese/poodle cross. The kind of dog you see trotting happily on a leash - not living, feral, teeth bared, under a dumpster in the parking lot of an innercity supermarket.
Shelter volunteers had been alerted to the dog's plight by a cashier who had caught a glimpse of it when returning to her car several nights prior. It had taken a number of patient stakeouts before they got the glimpse they needed to confirm the dog was still in the area.
It had become really good at hiding.
The the video began with the excited rescuer capturing the last few seconds of the dog's race ahead to squeeze into the darkness under the dumpster. Explaining into the phone's camera that the dog looked like it had been out here for months, and speculating on what appeared to be signs of physical injury, the rescuers were certain the bigger issue was the psychological injury the dog had suffered. It was rare for them to encounter a dog this determined to avoid any and all human contact.
The dog was going to have to be approached very, very carefully.
I recently overheard a fellow EFT practitioner remark to someone, "I've never worked with children." I didn't think anything of it at the time. Most Tapping practitioners have experience or preferences that lead them to specialize in certain areas or with certain types of clients or to work on particular issues. It's also important that we know where not to go, what not to work on. Perhaps it's an issue we are aware we haven't cleared in ourselves. Perhaps it's a matter of not feeling confident we have acquired the skills to maintain the safety of clients presenting with issues involving serious trauma.
And, certainly, working with children presents a special set of challenges, even though we are taught how to do it in our training. But those overheard words, pinging casually around in the back of my mind, collided with reality the next day as...
A couple of months ago, I was heading to my car for a day of errands when I noticed the washing out on the line. I knew it was dry but the sky looked ominous and I was sure it would be soaked by the day's expected rain unless I hauled it inside before leaving.
Hurrying, I darted over to where it was hanging and began ripping it off the line, tossing it into the nearby basket, clothes pegs flying as I fumbled to get it done. My mind was already on the road and my body was frantic to get this chore over with so I could catch up with it.
The basket full, I wheeled around and crunched back over the gravel pathway towards the terrace, taking a shortcut that meant a hop over a low wooden garden divider.
It was a dumb move. I was going too fast for the uneven ground, for my inability to see
For some reason, having my hands in warm running water while looking out my kitchen window at the first signs of spring reminded me of my friend Elizabeth's house in Bolinas, California. Maybe it was the way the wind was tossing the branches of trees around in the sun, reminding me of that bright, blustery coastline. Maybe that combined with the warm water and reminded me of sitting in her hot tub that looks out over the ocean. I felt a wave of longing to go back and be in that magical place again.
And then, a realization dawned. The last time I was there, it didn't feel magical. It was last Christmas. Had the chill in the air and flat silver light of winter been to blame? I turned my mind back to...