There's an itch somewhere on my body. Today it is a stiff knot in between my shoulder blades, on the right side. I experience a delicious pain, like that of wiggling a loose tooth with the tongue, every time I reach around and press my fingers into those muscles behind me. At other times, this itch is a stiffness at the meeting of my thighs and my pelvis that I feel throughout the day as I bend to pick up objects off the ground or walk up stairs. Some days, I feel the muscles in my abdomen aching to be massaged and I press my fingers on to my belly, feel the muscles that tightly envelop my organs, the core of my energy releasing and relaxing. Yesterday, I felt this itch in the ligaments at the bottom of my feet that so gracefully reach down from my calves and around my heels, and as I sat on my heels, the tight, tense flesh opened and sighed with ecstasy.
Sometimes, it is as though my entire body itches, aches, and pleads for a remedy. Fortunately, there are a few things that satisfy my desperate body's needs for openness. Submerging myself entirely under boiling, steaming water never fails to melt away the gremlins hidden in the crevices of my angry ligaments. Otherwise, I can run, run around the lake and as my breathing inevitably accelerates, the fresh air forces its way into the constricted spaces and makes room. But one of the most delicious remedies is when I hear music, a saving grace all its own, and the sound waves are like magic. Magical waves of emotion that command my body in a language I still don't understand. But my body is well-versed in music's speech and as my thoughts are suspended, feeling lost in a foreign land, the music tells my body exactly how to rid itself of those gnawing itches.
But I discovered something today. All of these remedies for body's aching needs exist to replace the most important, the most powerful, the most therapeutic and healing remedy. These solutions merely create the illusion that I am not alone. Whether it is water, oxygen, or sound, the movement surrounds me and fools my body into believing that it is not alone.
Don't you see? All they do is take your place, hopefully temporarily. Because all it takes is one stroke from your warm, supple finger down my spine, and I am healed.