All That and Then Some

ALICE - Karma Chameleon

I AM STANDING OUTSIDE my therapist's office, unsure if I'm allowed to bring a toddler into the little room from which Hippy Harry conducts his unique blend of Buddhism and psychotherapy.  He calls it the 'mental sanctuary' and I can't think of anything less sanctuary-respecting than a 2-year-old.

I've left Buddy a series of text and voice messages inquiring as to how his me-time is going and when, exactly, he thinks it might be over and if that might, possibly, be before my 4 pm therapy appointment. So far, there's been no response. This leaves me having to decide between late-cancelling my appointment with Harry or just bringing Angel in with me. Despite being all zen and yogic normally, Harry gets surprisingly snippy when I cancel without notice, so I decide to take my chances and bring her with me.

I bat gently at the windchimes Harry has hung outside the dingy office door. As much as he tries to imbue his little room with the woody scents and silky textures of some far off eastern land, the fact remains that in order to enter the mental sanctuary, you first have to climb a urine-smelling set of stairs, then make your way down an industrial-carpeted beige hallway of small office doors—tax accountant, RMT, Nutritionist, then Harold Hargrove, Registered Psychotherapist.

The beige door opens inward and a waft of patchouli incense greets our noses. Angel twitches, so I quickly unwrap a (sugar-free!) Baby MumMum and hand it to her.

"Alice, wonderful to see you," says Harry. "Oh. We have a guest with us today!"

Harry beams down at Angel, who eyes him suspiciously while sucking on her rusk.

"I hope it's okay," I explain. "I'm babysitting for a friend who really needed some time off — only I didn't think it would be quite this much time. This is Angel. Angel, this is Harry."

"Alice, it's more than okay! Children are innately tuned into the cosmic truth. They're like the tuning forks of the spiritual world! Here," he ushers us inside. "She can play with my Tibetan singing bowls while we chat."

I unleash her from the stroller she's been strapped into most of the day, and she slides out gratefully, testing her legs by running manic circles around the floor cushions that Harry has instead of proper chairs.

He settles onto the floor, zen-ly ignoring the speedy toddler and motions for me to lie on the floor in front of him.

"Tell me," he intones warmly, "How have your chakras been feeling?"

I unfold myself onto the floor and close my eyes, accustomed to this strange routine after more than a year of coming here.

"Umm. Good, yeah. I mean... I think."

A smooth, round piece of quartz is placed on my forehead, and Harry's warm fingertips make circles on my temples.

"I sense some stress," he says in a quiet voice. "And, oh. Your hair is sticky."

My hands flutter around over my body nervously. "Right, sorry about that."

"Alice, we don't say the s-word here in the sanctuary. You have nothing to apologize for. Your external self is of no concern to us here. We're interested only in your spiritual truth."

I force my hands back down to my sides and more cool rocks get balanced on me.

"Let's take a deep breath in. Breathe new air into your heart chakra."

I take a long, slow inhale and feel the miraculous calm come over me. I know how silly all this sounds, but I keep coming back because, while Harry isn't really much of a life coach, something about lying on the floor with rocks on myself is completely relaxing and affirming somehow.