They're usually too cold. Poor circulation. Yesterday Efrem said I need to stomp them more. Efrem is my acupuncturist and herbalist. Chinese herbs. Although of course Efrem is not Chinese, he's Jewish. In any case, when Efrem was 25 he used to get migraine headaches that followed bouts of anger. Somehow or other he learned that if he stomped his feet hard for a while, the anger energy would flow down and out through his feet, which prevented the migraines from happening.
He told me this yesterday after I went in and said, "Please don't just focus on my liver today. I need help with my stress. I'm so stressed out! So angry and stressed out! Work is getting to me. The people are getting to me. I have to deal with people all the time, and it's so difficult!"
"What people do you have to deal with?" he said.
"Oh, 250 to 300 students plus a couple dozen teachers every session," I answered.
"A couple dozen teachers? Oh, I thought you taught all the classes yourself."
"No, only one class. But even that one class has 32 students! I'm a manager, Efrem. It's a big part of my job: people management. And I take too much of it personally. I don't know how to let business be business. I take all criticisms to heart. In my head I may know that most people love the Writing Salon and also really like the class that I teach, myself. In my head I know that for every 25 or 50 or 100 people who adore the WS, there's only one who is griping, criticizing, accusing and complaining. But I let myself be overwhelmed by the complainers and accusers. I don't know how to fend off that negative energy! Please poke me full of needles that will help me be better at coping with stress."
"I'll do my best, but you can also stomp your feet," he said.
"How about cursing at people instead? I do that a lot already. Not to their faces, of course. I do it as I'm driving or walking down the street, or while I'm sitting on the couch. Like a crazy person would do."
"No, that pulls the angry energy up into your chest and head. You want it to go down and out through your legs and feet and into the ground."
"Okay. Will do," I said. No hesitation.
That's because I love Efrem. I'm not kidding. I TRULY love him. He's the doctor, more than any other I've been to, who listens and talks to me like I'm a real human being. Like the two of us are real human beings. Not just doctor and patient caricatures. Not just authority figure and obedient follower. He listens to the whole me, the heart and soul and psyche of me. Not just to my pulse or heartbeat or test results.
So if he says "Stomp your feet," I will give it my best shot.