He loved the shop and felt so comfortable there. It was one of those homey little luncheonettes that peppered the streets of New York. When they arrived Mark knew that they would be warmly welcomed by the owner and the regular customers. Mark loved the attention and was proud to be with his father.
As soon as they opened the door the lovely smell of frying bacon filled Mark’s head. Immediately, he dashed to the counter where he could see the cook at work. Swivelling the top of the anchored stool to get a clear view of the grill, Mark watched the eggs bubble and the bacon shrink. That made him hungry.
Today was the only day of the week he could eat anything he wanted. So, he always chose to start with his favorite, a vanilla milk shake. The owner would pour the ingredients in a wide-mouth chrome cup and place it under a huge green and silver mixer. As the blades whirred, Mark wet his lips in anticipation. When the blending was complete, the owner placed a glass on the counter and poured in the delicious mixture from the cup. Since the blending cup held more than the glass, the owner left the extra for Mark to enjoy. Beaming, Mark knew that he would be able to polish off exactly 2½ glasses of this luscious drink. Saturdays were truly special. Mark had everything he could want; his loving father, his favorite drink, and a lifetime of fun to look forward to.
When Mark was 10 years old, his father died unexpectedly from a heart attack. Special Saturday breakfasts were no more, and Mark’s sweet world was shattered. After the death of his father, the singing of the birds never seemed to reach his ears ... At age 34, when Mark sought the source for his trembling legs and knotted throat, I asked him to listen closely to his body. As I asked him “What are your legs and throat saying?—What are they trying to tell you?” Mark began to hear the messages clearly.
“When my dad died I saw how crushed my mother and sister were. I tried to be strong for them. I cried just a trickle at the funeral, and did my best to keep back my tears and be a comfort for them. I now realize that I never gave myself the opportunity to grieve for my dad. Although I missed him terribly, I never allowed my tears to flow. So, as each Saturday, the day of the week I spent with my father, approached, my tears would accumulate as this ball in the back of my throat. My shaking legs spoke of their desire for the Saturday morning breakfast walk, and their inability to make such past pleasures possible. I know now that I must deal with the loss of my father, which occurred over 20 years ago.” Mark listened to his subconscious through the messages he received in his body. Becoming aware of the hurts he never grieved, Mark allowed himself to purge his stored tears, and fully mourn the death of his father. Although still pleased by the fond memories he has of his dad, Mark’s legs no longer shake and the lump in his throat is gone. Best of all, according to Mark, “I once again hear the sweet singing of the birds.”
If your body consistently exhibits movements or gestures that go beyond its normal functioning needs, talk to it. Ask the parts what they’re saying. Although you may not get immediate answers, perseverance will certainly increase your chances of gaining additional awareness…
