A friend shared with me her experience of entering an apartment that needed to be cleaned to make it ready for a new renter. What she found there was not only the physical residue of the last resident, the usual grit and grime of daily life, but also some dark energetic debris that flew in the face of her attempts to purge the place of its past. At the end of our conversation, I asked her what steps one might take when entering an alien environment in order to protect the heart and mind from leftover malaise. The instructions were simple but profound: enter any enemy territory with the right foot first in order to keep the doors of the psyche closed to interference. Center the mind on self-protection. Do not interfere with any energy not belonging to one’s self. Upon leaving, again placing the right foot first, with one’s back to the place or the situation, shake off the feet and hands so that no clinging miasma is taken along. Clear the mind. Upon arriving home, enter the premises with the left foot first, opening the self to a place of comfort and ease.
I thought of these instructions during the long drive to Poodies Hilltop Roadhouse, a bar and grill where my husband plays music. I love going along, but after several hours of close quarters, many people, televisions, neon lights, spinning ceiling fans, and constant too-loud sound, I feel depleted and often ill. This time, however, I felt determined to follow my friend’s instructions to see if I could maintain my personal well being.
But, I walked onto the property and in through the back door totally forgetting to put my “right foot first” to stay closed to the environment. I remembered only when I sat down at the table. I had brought sautéed veggies from home to go on my usual baked potato, so I had that part of the evening under control. I also had my new ear protection plugs and those helped a million times over. When I took them out again after the show, the full blast of sound from the house music on the speakers felt like a tidal wave, so I exited very quickly to escape to the truck where I found moderate peace and quiet. Sitting there in the dark of the parking lot, staring out at the starlight, trying to calm down, I realized that I had forgotten to pause and turn my back on the place and shake off my hands and feet. Clearly, I was going to need a lot more practice. When I shared my story with my friend, expressing that I had failed miserably, she said, “You did not fail. Old habits take time to adjust. Being aware is the first step to correction.”
~LJ