Yang Therapy

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Not the best picture of me. But I’m in the middle of therapy, and I am extremely  satisfied with Yang’s expression. She’s probably telling me to put the camera down so we can get down to some serious business.
It didn’t take long for me to settle on the office bed to get a round of Yang therapy. Much needed.
After leaving Stadium Automotive with George’s four steps of coping with a mistakes sort of firmly planted. Sort of planted sounds solid, doesn’t it? According to George, the owner of a few auto mechanic shops in town, there are four coping steps.
The First step is to admit the mistake. I own that I side swiped the side mirror of a mysterious person’s clack SUV on Hilyard. I cracked the side mirror of the rig I probably should not have been driving in the first place. If you know that commercial where the dad tells his teenage daughter to look for these kinds of things, and she gives him a whatever before inserting her earbuds. He manages to knock of many side mirrors. Should this make me feel better that I only knocked off one?
What was I thinking when I thought about buying a 1992 eighteen foot mini monster motorhome. Am I really slipping into senility. At least wait until I am sixty, which is only a handful of fingers away. Use two hands if you don’t count the thumb as a finger.
Because of Yang Therapy I am moving further and further away from the mishap of two mirrors kissing as they passed in a sweet afternoon. The kiss was much too hard, but that is an image much better than the side mirror of a rig that I don’t own punched the daylights

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out of an innocent black SUV. I picked up the poor plastic and glass pieces strewn about. I quickly thanked my lucky stars that I didn’t smack a BMW or Mercedes Benz, though I knew even a Chevy was going to cost some cash.
Was this a sign, an omen? Yang is sort of stroking my throat. Claws are out and the purrs don’t cover up the slight pain.

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I trust that she knows what she is doing.  Catapuncture.
Second step of George’s philosophy. Maybe owning my mistake is different than admitting. I need a second one,  so I am going with that. I owned this accident by scurrying to a man washing one of his vehicles and yelling, “I am the idiot who just hit that black car across the street.” He owned a Mini Cooper, telling me he was a soul mate,  one of the Brethren of Mini Lovers. He hadn’t even noticed the accident.

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I figured it was the crash heard around the World.
The guy laughed and said the owner might be the seller of the house the injured vehicle was parked in front of. Cute little house for sale, but not really a safe place to park.

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Too much traffic.
The guy washing his car advised me to leave out the idiot part and focus on the honest citizen that I was being. I could have kept going and blamed the crazy college students.
George gave me too many examples of the third and most important step. Being the owner of three automotive shops, he has had his fair share of the employees not learning from their mistakes, but many of those soon to be unemployed wouldn’t admit to making the mistake in the first. I an really good with this one. I’m so good that I have even fessed up to mistakes that really weren’t mine.
This brings me to the last step. Letting go. I paid Mike, the man who owns the black steed, his chariot, he uses to be an insurance agent.
Mike was glad I had contacted him as he initially blamed the busted mirror on one of those idiot University of Oregon students.
I did take the accident as a universal sign and Francis is picking up the Mini monster tomorrow.  I I will even miss the little beast as all sorts of day dreams of where this little home on wheels could take me. I  had talked myself into almost believing that this is what was going to get my writing career off the ground.

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I know that it is going to take more than a room of one’s own on wheels.

Meanwhile, what I do have is Yang Therapy. I believe that she’s in my life to be a story starter. There’s something magical about her purrs and drools.

 

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