Cleansing the Stone
I'm a pretty well-adjusted adult. I was raised by two level-headed people in a very normal house: we were allowed to watch The Simpsons and eat peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon. We had curfews and tutors and swimming lessons. We learned how to bake and use the washing machine and were allowed to babysit kids in the neighborhood. I only moved twice as a child, switched schools once, and went to church. Sure, my father went through a phase where we only drank powdered milk and our mother forbade Flinstone's Children's Vitamins, but in the grand scheme of things, that pales in comparison to parents who refuse to let their kids wear digital watches or eat anything that casts a shadow.
So it is with every fiber of my being that I harbor a shame so deep and so secret, and so fucking retarded, that only a complete idiot that grew up around flakes and hippies could understand.
People, I LOVE crackpot New Age shit.
I love it and I completely fall for it every time, and I'm not just talking about rookie stuff like Astrology or Dream Decoding. Conspiracy Theories, Lucid Dreaming, you name it, I can guarantee I showed an aggressive interest in it (well, at least for a week or two). But there is one super-crackpot aspect of New Age healing that I am crazy about:
I will let that sink in for a second. No no, take your time, I'll come back to you after you're done rolling your eyes. Can we continue?
Alright, now that you have sustained lasting ocular nerve damage, I will explain (to those of you who don't know) just what Crystal Therapy is. Crystal Therapy is the utilization of the spiritual and healing properties in gemstones and crystals to bring about balance and wellness. And how do you use such gemstones and crystals to heal what ails you? Well you place them on your body, of course! But I'm sure you're sitting there thinking: "But Mayor, how do you know which gemstones and crystals to use?" Oh my goodness, it's easy, but super-secret, so you can't tell anyone, okay? Inside each gemstone and crystal are hidden healing powers that only reveal themselves to the stinky hippie who is printing them out on corresponding cards. I know, right? MAGIC. For instance, I have a piece of Aventurine, no bigger than a raspberry, that I carry with me all the time. It is supposed to stabilize my mood and bring me good luck. Does it? Well, let me tell you - it has an amazing placebo effect on me, and that alone is worth the $3 I spent on it.
Two weekends ago I was visiting my mother and father up north and we decided to drive two towns over to shop on their main street. They have a great antique store where I have bought two 1960s pea-green bedside table lamps and many a ceramic bird, and their Salvation Army resides in an old supermarket and is filled with old lady handbags. So we're walking and all of a sudden I smell patchouli and realize that we are standing right in front of a New Age store called The Love Tree. I know, right??? I don't think I could have picked a flakier name than that if I was this girl:
After 10 minutes (although I am sure it felt like 3 agonizing hours to my mother) I picked out a small, flat piece of Yellow Jasper:
In case I forgot why I was buying this little yellow piece of Earth-turd, I was given a card to help me remember, and thus smugly mention to anyone who asks why I'm carrying a discoloured rock:
Yellow Jasper is a protective stone, shielding against negativity and depression. This stone channels positive energy, increasing feelings of well-being, and builds confidence.
Shields against depression? No need for anti-depressants anymore - hell, I'm flushing them down the toilet as I type! But honestly, there are like hundreds of different stones and they all 'heal' you in the vaguest of ways. None of this makes sense. Not one bit. But that doesn't mean I don't carry stones in my pocket and place them on my throat and chest as I lay in bed reading.
So we're in The Love Tree, I have picked out my yellow jasper, and I'm approaching the cash register to pay. The woman behind the counter was reading a book - maybe a romance novel - and smelled fairly normal. When she asked me if I would like her to cleanse my stone, I thought nothing of it. I figured she'd rub a little Purel on it, maybe put it in a little dish of hot water and lemon, like at a fancy restaurant. Not so. She took the jasper over to a wide-mouthed white marble bowl. It was about 18 inches high and 18 inches wide, with thin, smooth sides and a heavy matching rod. Kind of like a really big mortar and pestle. After placing the stone in the base of the bowl, she began running the rod around the lip of the bowl, slowly at first, which made a soothing low hum of a sound. With an increase of speed, the sound intensified to a loud ear-piercing drone. The whole time the woman was running the rod around the bowl's lip, she had her eyes closed; which is good, because I was clenching my mouth tightly to ensure that I didn't burst out laughing. It was so retarded - and the worst part was that she wasn't stopping! I stood there for at least 3 minutes before I told her to stop and that I thought my stone was clean enough.
She removed the jasper from the bowl and wiped it with a soft cloth. Why she did this, I have no idea - it's not like the stone was wet. She rang me in ($1.35) and started to wrap the stone in tissue paper, where I stopped her.
"It's okay, I'm just going to put it in my pocket" I said.
This is when that New Age bitch gave me the dirtiest look and WHIPPED the stone at me. It literally shot across the counter. What the hell?!? I guess putting my stone in my filthy pants pocket defeats the purpose of cleansing it in the marble bowl of magic. I mean, what the hell did she think I was going to do with it? Take it home and put it in a shrine surrounded by incense and oranges? Oh wait...
So the stone is still in my pocket. I think I voided my warranty by doing so, but I don't care. Its placebo effect can't ever be washed off.