The Art of Loving

Here are two offerings that I want to share with you. Each is a window into the art of loving, and each is written by friend and colleague.

This first story was created by EFT practitioner and therapist Zoë Zimmerman.

Zoë says:
For a long time, in my psychotherapy practice and for family, I’ve been writing “therapeutic” or “healing” stories. Sometimes I write them for clients or someone in my family, and other times, it’s a partnership between my client and me.

Either by myself, or in partnership, I/we feel into the situation, which can be a long-term issue or one that’s just popping up now. Then I or we create an imaginative story, often like a fairy tale, metaphorically using the themes of the issue or the person’s background. In a metaphoric way, these stories bring up the problem and then, mysteriously, a solution always appears that transforms the problem.

The following is one such story. After I participated in a wonderful retreat led by Rue, someone asked me to write them a story. I was so energized by Rue’s retreat that the story just flowed out of me.

(Note from Rue: There will be three of these Intuitive Mentoring retreats in 2012. Watch this space for dates!)
Twirly-Man

There once was a twirly-man. What can I say? That was his talent. He could twirl anything: lids, plates, dreydls, tires, flowers-on-stems, hair tresses, fingers around ears, corn cobs twirled by the little plastic corn cobs at the ends of the cobs, just anything!

He loved it. He perfected twirling. He even twirled himself, around and around, like a slow tornado—like a Sufi dancer—a “twirling dervish.” That was the most fun. Often, at parties, he’d tornado-twirl in and around and among the guests, their bewildered and yet happily grinning faces following after him as he flowed through them. He trailed a ribbon of sun-painted smiles behind him.

He was never aware of the effect he had on people. He was so involved in twirling everything, even himself, involved in the joy and the bliss and the elation of twirling that their stares, their head shakings never entered his awareness. He was totally unaware that they thought he was delightfully stark raving mad, crazy as a Canadian loon, round the bend, one—or even ten—cards shy of a deck, and so on. He just twirled.