SHINY AND DRIPPING WITH SWEETNESS

In all of Tokyo, there may be nothing lovelier than the rain-dappled streets. Puddles have begun to form, the juicy and splashy kind that makes a person like me want to stomp and pretend I’m wearing big cowboy boots. Still, I do muster some sense of decorum. It’s enough that I’m wearing the big yellow rain slicker plus a sopping purple backpack.

Flowers and bushes along the street are looking their very best ever, shining as if on parade. The neon lights of the shops take on a new sheen.

A little urban supermarket tempts me, not so much because it will be dry but because of my shopper’s curiosity. Each supermarket is unique here; chain stores are called Lawson’s or Suntory or even Seven Eleven, yet each has a distinctive personality compared to their American or British counterparts.

This particular non-chain supermarket is advertising sale items, as all of them do. Tonight this one brags about its great deal on bananas. These are the smallest ones I’ve ever seen, each bright-yellow banana the length of one of my fingers. They’re grouped together by the “hand” and each “hand” contains about 10 fingers. So clearly, these fruits would be worth buying for the strangeness factor alone. And such a bargain: Only 60 cents for each teensy, individual banana.

If I were to pull one off its “hand” for individual purchase, I just might cause an international incident. So I keep shopping around and wind up with a fine, round box of toothpicks, made in China. Then back onto the ever-wetter street!

HAIL, BEYONCE

One of the landmarks on this walk shows Beyonce in a huge advertisement on the side of a building. Standing at an intersection, waiting for the light to change, I admire her more than ever. Beyonce looks fab in the rain.

Having leisure to examine her more fully than usual, I can finally look past the stark glamour Beyonce projects and notice her look of surprise, as if she has just walked down a busy street and seen a 30-foot-long poster full of herself. She’s holding a gigantic purse, which seems to be the purpose of this particular ad.

For the first time, I notice the strange position of Beyonce’s hands. Right hand is dangling the handbag in a rather normal manner, but then her left other hand is holding the top of the bag, grabbing it clothespin fashion, as if saying to it, “Hush. Stop talking so much.”

Nonetheless, the singer’s presence seems reassuring to me, like a friend from back home. Also, her impossibly shiny bare legs look shinier than ever, thanks to the rain.

My own legs aren’t shiny at all, thanks to the slicker and my now-soggy jeans. My feet might make for an interesting poster, actually. The sneakers and socks are, by now, flowing like miniature rice paddies.

WHAT IT TAKES TO SHOCK ME

As I squish my way home, most of the foot traffic has cleared off the streets. Puddles are growing quickly and the percussion of all that rain puts me in a near-trance. So I start thinking about my day, all that Aura Healing and Transformation I had the privilege of doing.

Altogether, I did my standard six hour-long sessions, helped by a brainy interpreter. (Today it was elegant, soulful Yukari-san.) With clients we Cut Cords of Attachment, moved out Astral Debris of various kinds. I even got to facilitate an Exorcism, my fifth one of this trip. Wow, did that client feel a lot better afterwards! (Yes, one of these days I’ll do a post on the Exorcism topic, usually a rare type of healing for me to facilitate for clients.) 

Something in one session today did shock me, I’ll admit. A client, Maxi, mentioned that, when deciding to come for a session with me, she didn’t usually go for Aura Healing and Transformation. Whenever she would go to see an esthetician, they’d always offer her a bit of aura touch-up at the end of her session, and Maxi would routinely refuse. But somehow she liked the idea of trying a session with me.

It was good she did, because Maxi was the one who had the Exorcism.

After her session ended, I asked Yukari-san, “What is an esthetician, anyway?”

She said, “It’s someone who gives you a facial.”

I sputtered, “Do you mean that people will get a facial and then be offered Aura Healing?”

Yukari then informed me that all sorts of practitioners in Japan like to throw in some aura work as a little extra for their clients – massage therapists, makeup experts, etc.

While she told me this, I was making us fresh cups of cafe au lait. I was so shocked that this playing around could be mistaken for serious Aura Healing and Transformation, yoicks! I knocked over my coffee and spilled it over the counter.

This was like something a student had asked last weekend, during our workshop on “Spiritual Cleansing and Protection.” The student, Gladys, said:

“I took a healing workshop. The teacher explained how to Cut Cords of Attachment. She said that any time you think about a person after cutting a cord, you form a brand new Cord of Attachment, so you should cut it right away.”

Imagine, adding an obsessive and useless new clean-up behavior to all the things some folks do in the name of cutting a Cord of Attachment.

First this and now the esthetician!

Historically, I’m not sure which was worse, back when nobody had heard of things like cutting cords and healing auras or now, when they know just enough to confuse themselves. A screaming, terrified entity during an exorcism or hundreds of sobbing ghosts or the slimy, heartache of a client’s Cord of Attachment – none of these things encountered during sessions yesterday ever scared me. But the thought of a 2-minute, alleged Aura Healing from the neighborhood Hair Cuttery... ack!

THE WATER WONDERLAND

Sighing, I go back to paying attention to all the rain. Now it’s falling even harder, big juicy gushers that would be the envy of Texas oilmen of yore. Only the fluid is flowing top down, not bottom up. And it isn’t petroleum but a lovely, sparkling, cleansing flow.

Puddles in the street have turned into temporary lakes, shallow but dancing, dimpled, delicious.

Passing a chic office building, I see half a dozen smartly dressed businessmen getting out of work. They are wearing the most sumptuous suits, and are busily folding their jackets. Most wear resigned expressions. Bad enough getting out of that meeting at 9:00 p.m., and now this….

One of the businessmen, scampering off, looks me in the eye. Perhaps he wonders what kind of an American lunatic would walk around in this rain with such a silly grin on her face, and an even sillier raincoat. But my smile of delight must reach him, because I see a little-kid giggle light up his eyes. 

Nearing my condo, I finally figure out what makes this rainstorm so special to me. Remember back when you were a kid, and you’d wear your big shiny boots and splash through gigantic puddles and smell all the newly enhanced fragrances and see how the whole world was fresh-painted in amazing new colors?

Back then, it didn’t take much rain to do that. By adult standards, it could have been a pretty small amount of rain.

For a grownup’s jaded senses, to get the same effect we need huge, outrageous, gigantic rain. Like this. Then even we can walk in a wonderland.

The entrance to my condo has six steps. Approaching, I notice. It has turned into a waterfall.