Leia Meets Julian

I wait in front of the door, pacing nervously. I’m only a little bit early, but ringing the doorbell feels awkward. So I just wait, checking the time on my phone every minute or so. I notice my anxiety. I assure myself that it’s reasonable to be nervous. I am meeting a stranger. The circumstances are weird. I take a long calming breath. Then it occurs to me: maybe I got the time wrong. Or the day. Maybe I got confused, and the meeting was yesterday. I double check my email. The email assures me I am to meet Julian today, at 4pm. It’s 4:01. Breathe, Leia, breathe. It’s 4:02. I bite off another fingernail. It’s 4:03. 

The setup is unassuming. A non-descript two story building. Pretty sure at least one of the floors is a doctor’s office, or a law practice or some such. Not particularly impressive, I’d somehow expected something more flashy. There’s a keypad next to the doorbells. I don’t know the keycode. I wish I knew the keycode. It’s 4:05. 

It’s 4:07 when the door opens. A tall, dark-haired guy steps out, as I awkwardly maneuver to get out of his way in time. “Are you Leia?” he asks. I nod. “Come on in” he says and gesturing for me to follow. I follow him up a set of stairs, and through a door, into a small front room that might generously be called a waiting room. I’m not sure yet if I’m feeling generous. “Would you like a cup of tea?” he asks, and gestures to a fancy coffee machine on top of a mini fridge stacked on top of a chair. I’m pretty sure it’s one of those machines that makes coffee from little plastic pods. I don’t see any little plastic pods. I also don’t see any teabags. Weighing my options I decide I am probably not up for interacting with the pod machine. I shake my head no.

“Shall we then?” he asks. I nod again, and follow him into yet another room. This room is even smaller, and most of the floor space is taken up by a large medical grade massage table. The thing looks complicated, and heavy. I idly wonder how they got it up the stairs. Squeezed into the corner are two small arm chairs, flanking a tiny side table. Several fist sized crystals are crammed on top of the table, next to a red tea mug. I recognize one of the stones as rose quartz. I muse briefly on the uselessness of this piece of knowledge as we sit down. 

“Hi!” he says. “I am Julian.” His voice sounds warm, and self-assured. “I’m Leia” I say, auto-completing the conversational pattern. Then I blush. He already knew that. “Leia” he repeats. He pauses, then asks the obligatory question. “Like in Star Wars, hm?” Most people I meet assume that it’s unpleasant to be named after a famous movie character. But I secretly like it. At the very least it provides an easy ice breaker whenever I really need one. I smoothly rattle off some cached answers. My parents really liked princess Leia. They thought it would be inspiring to be named after a strong female hero. They’re nerds from Germany.  We moved here when I was three years old. I give a bashful smile. He smiles back.

We talk about small things for a while. About living in the Bay Area. About Mara, the mutual acquaintence who set up this meeting of strangers. He apologizes for the shabbiness of his office. “We had to leave our previous place on short notice” he explains. “Mara found this place on craigslist.” The conversational flow is easy and engaging. Within a few minutes I catch myself feeling comfortable. I remind myself to remain skeptical. I am here because Mara said I had to, absolutely had to, meet this guy. I am here because I respect Mara, and maybe because I am a little bit curious. I am here, absurd as that may sound, to experience energy healing. But obviously I don’t believe in things like energy healing.

I decide to make a move. “So, this energy healing thing” I say. “How does this work?” He ponders the question for a moment. Leaning back, he sighs dramatically and makes eye contact. “You’re from a psychology background” he says, making it sound like a question. I explain that I am a therapist. Internal Family Systems Therapy.  “It’s a system that assumes that the psyche is composed of various parts or sub personalities” I explain. I’m about to launch into a lengthy exposition, when he waves me off. “It’s an introspective system” he prompts, half statement, half question again. I nod. “How do you think introspection works?” he asks. I think for a moment, caught slightly off guard. “It has to do with resonance.” I explain. “You look for resonance between the statement and the felt sense, the felt belief that is there.” He looks at me sharply. “But how does that tell you that the statement actually matches what is in the person’s mind? What if instead they are replacing what was there with what they are saying?” Taking aback by his intensity I try to think of a good response. 

A few time-diluted moments later I am still trying. Thoughts float out of my focus like fast-spinning dancers. Centrifugal force. Weightlessness. My senses sharpen an order of magnitude, gaining detail fractally. Wordlessly I wonder if someone has spiked my tea with LSD. I take a breath. The breath moves through me, leaving me surprised, as if breathing had never happened before and was happening for the first time in this moment. My vision feels like it has depth, an extra dimension that is both new and familiar at the same time. Had it been flat before? I look at the red cup, seeing for the first time that its surface has texture, isn’t smoothly abstract but made of tiny irregularities. Its realness startles me. I notice I never drank any tea. Julian smiles at me.