I haven't been able to get up since this morning.
Sadness for no reason.
Just sad.
How are you?
I ask him when he comes in, he's almost eight years old.
I'm fine.
He stood next to me and was silent.
Do you want good treatment?
Where did he get that from?
I've felt for a long time that he's healing. We're even writing the 'Healing Book' (his suggestion), but I'm still surprised. After all, he arrived "diagnosed" with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, with an unequivocal recommendation for Ritalin. "Otherwise it will start to have an impact socially, not just academically," they wrote.
Listen, I'm really in a bit of a mood.
He looks at me for a long time.
Yes, you need the one that removes bad thoughts, do you? It's a shame I took the stone you gave me home. You should have held it tightly in your hand, warmed it up... Well, it's okay, that's fine too.
The truth is, I say and smile at him, I want everything now to feel better.
So I'm sending you bad thoughts, but I'm not touching the memories. Even bad memories, I leave them. That's okay, no one erases them. Sit down well. Huge coal eyes with never-ending eyelashes. We'll light a candle. We need a really big flame.
Takes the large candle, lights it, waits a few minutes for the wax to drip, extinguishes it, strikes a few tall matches.
That's it, I'm lighting it, don't worry, now there will be a big fire, that's how it has to be.
Not worried, not at all.
Now turn it off. Just say, "Thank God."
Thank God.
Do you believe in God?
I believe it, very much.
Good. Just leave the little candle. Now I'm going around to you.
Takes my Tibetan bowl. Gong. Finds another musical instrument. Ding. I still have my eyes closed. Lets the sound echo through the room. If you open your eyes, he whispers, you can look at the little candle.
I hear a gentle rustling next to my ear.
What could it be?
The vials of food coloring. Vibrations of energy. I don't feel like opening my eyes. I'm diving.
That's it, he whispers in my ear. All those voices really help you.
They will help you, he said, but they will not help you.
Ben is turning eight soon, you know. And he's the one who comes to get help from me twice a week because it's hard for him to sit in class, concentrate, and study.
Yes, thank you, it calms me down, it's good for me. I say in a weak, answering voice.
In a whispering, confident voice he says, "It took everything out of you, I feel it. And the memories are left for you. We'll speak softly now. Lest we forget, I'll tell you what to write in the healing book. Read me a moment what you wrote last time."
I read what he dictated to me about the anger massage. He corrects me, adding at the end that you need one large candle with a scent and two small ones, and at the end you extinguish the candle and the warm circles that come out of the candle water… from the wax… I whisper,
Yes, from the wax, you can put it when it's not boiling on a painful area of the body.
Show me that you write neatly, by chapters.
Showing him. Is it okay like this? I ask. Look, I tried.
Yes, great, you're all set with your writing. Next time we'll record me playing a tune that I play only with the water. And that will also be for all the children who come to you. Just bring a big bowl of water. I'm like that, knocking on the water with my hands, I already know. Don't forget Pazit?
No, I won't forget.