An Absurd Journey to Enlightenment
When Healing Gets Out of Hand
A curious, oily, hairless animal clutching a kombucha bottle and wearing nothing but hippy scarves wrapped around his crotch enters the large tent of the healing retreat I’m at.
He jumps like a smooth ape on the long wooden tables we are sitting around. High-pitched kinky voices come out of him as his hands and toes enter strangers’ territory. He kneels and strokes cheeks with the palm of his free hand, one face after another, and rubs his forearms and knees against all types of necks and hairs. The young men and women in the crowd welcome his gestures with shy giggles. I resent them silently for being so easily charmed.
The clean freak I am who doesn’t like to be touched grows nervous as he gets closer to where I’m sitting. But just as he nears, he veers off, jumping to another table. He opens his legs, and cages another woman in a sweaty hug, only to release her like a discarded tissue before hopping on stage.
At last, he introduces himself: he’s the guru we’ve been waiting for. “We are about to embark on a healing journey together that will change us all for the better!” He declares, waving the kombucha bottle close to his packed-up nuts before dribbling a few drops on his small nipples while massaging them, and shooting out the rest of the bottle’s healthy…
