"Recipe" continued from page 14 ...
Practice was required. I variously stumbled, staggered, strode and swayed through the process of my recovery. Eventually I found that I had new habits and perspectives and priorities that more health-ful for me. I suspect that these elements, or 'ingredients,' are part of any integration process. Certainly they apply to any of mine that come to mind. And how do I recognize integration? For me, whether I am looking at a specific concept, or my overall_ state of being, integration is a bor/yfelt e:xpenence if clarity, ease (wbicb doesn't necessari!J mean comfort!)) congruence and vitality. Ivly entire being seems to be in alignment and my energy flows. Not the kind of environment Chronic Fatigue Syndrome or Fibromyalgia thrive in! I am only a visitor to this state of being, but my visits are becoming more frequent and of longer duration. If
You & Ben & Jock Linda Nicholls is collaborating with Curt Hunter and Pieter Stathis on a documentary about the life story of Ben and Jock, with the working title "The Crucible". They are looking for stories that you think will help define Ben and Jock's lives, stories about what you have learned from them, your anecdotes with them, and/or photos or video/film footage you would be willing to offer. Please send a brief synopsis of your stories and images to thecrucibte@shaw.ca and they will get back to you about when¡ and where to send it.
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Re-Membering Our Selves By Elfi Dillon-Shaw, RMT It is a lovely sunrise morning in Cuzco, Peru. Friends are celebrating their wedding anniversary and w,e have decided to surprise them with flowers. In spite of some warnings about where not to walk in this ancient city, we go anyway. One of my companions has lived here for some time, the other is a courageous traveller. 1 decide to trust their guidance and mimic their ease. We walk briskly through the market where local peasants are busy preparing their stalls. I am feeling the excitement of being in a totally new world and smile at everyone I meet to let them know just how harmless and friendly a foreigner I am. This is why I am annoyed with myself when I notice that the back of my neck is bristling with a sensation I recognize as fear. I curtly dismiss my feelings and soothe myself with the explanation that this is merely guilt about being a rich person among such poor people. I think I am being paranoid and keep pace with my friends, even though I really want to run back to our hotel. Running is out of the question anyv1ay because at eleven thousand feet my body is not yet used to the thin air and even walking is a challenge. In any case, we are on a mission to buy flowers. The eyes of the many peasants around us suddenly change expression as I am being pushed from behind and herded toward a wall. My tall friend walks to my left; I turn to him for comfort only to witness an arm wrapping around his neck. My strong friend
S{;ell - Issue 34 Summer 2.004
falls backward into the strangling hold of a young man. His profile burns deeply into my mind as I realize we are being attacked! I am astonished by the cold, reptilian, purposefully predatory expression on this young man's face. I move to assist my friend and in the same moment I feel a breath taking pressure around my own neck. In a split second it becomes clear that we are being ambushed by a gang of young men, each one of us caught like an insect, strangled by one person while the others search our bodies for hidden treasures. Hands move over my breasts, into my pants, under my shirt. I want to freeze with fright. I remember some long ago self de fensc class and scream and kick with abandon, afraid they might use knives or worse. The more I fight the more I start to faint. It becomes clear that I will pass out or die if I continue to struggle. I fiercely choose then, that no matter what happens next, I am staying conscious and present. Being present is a concept, skill, and experience I first experienced at The Haven. In the unloving arms of this stranger I connect my heart with those I love at home, with my friends struggling next to me, with the peasants around me, and try to touch my assailant with my thoughts and feelings while holding perfectly still. Hands are searching my body; I feel the rapid breath of this stranger's breath against my neck. I am perfectly still, time is endless, my senses sharp. In a weird new way this is a sensuous experience. I am terrifyingly alive as I struggle for ... continued on page 1 7
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