My eighteen-month-old son, Cary, tends to be exuberant in his enthusiasms. When he says, ‘No,’ his whole body and head shake. He doesn’t just chatter; he often shriek-talks. He says “I love you” by head-butting you, hard.
During the last fourth of July weekend, at a party at my in-laws, I was sitting at Cary-level when he correctly responded to his aunt’s request for a high five. Apparently feeling chuffed about his success, he then turned to me and, before I could throw up my hands to protect myself, crashed his heavy head into my face. Crack!
Beneath my sensitive fingers, I could feel the swelling start. It took me a moment to find the wherewithal to remember my IMT. Covering my ureters with one hand and my nose with the other, I did a basic technique to drain inflammation. Within a minute, I could feel the tissues returning to normal. Forty-five minutes and a few more techniques later, a barely visible bruise discolored the joint between nasal bone and cartilage, but that was the only evidence of the accident.
As far as I could tell, nobody at the party realized they had witnessed a miracle. For there to be no swelling, no black eyes, no extensive bruising must have meant that Cary hadn’t hit me so hard after all. Who knows, maybe he didn’t and I just imagined all that healing happening, the body righting itself almost instantly with just the right information, space holding, attitude of possibility.
Is the body really so capable? Is the universe really so generous? All I can say is that my left nasal bone used to jag up at the bridge and now it doesn’t.