Wednesday, July 8, 2009

How I met a Zulu man on George Street (aka How do you recognise the angels?)

As sudden meetings go today’s ranks right up there with the very strange. It is also making me understand the principles of the laws of attraction. I was walking down George Street in Sydney and was very much lost in thought. To be honest I was feeling a little sorry for myself. I had been travelling for a while and had been eating and sleeping in ways that my body was not used to. My stomach and digestion were beginning to feel as crammed with low grade items as Argos is just before Christmas. There was little space to hold and contain goodness and my mind was following suite (if not dictating the situation in the first place).

As I stood at a street crossing waiting for the little green man a man reached out for my arm and asked for directions to the Harbour Bridge. I told him I was as new to this area and had no idea. He struck up a conversation and asked me about what I was doing in Sydney. His English was an admixture of many accents and like many other things about him from his Asian complexion that falsely suggested his ethnicity (he was instead from both New Zealand and South Africa) to his work (he worked in upholstery but was also a healer having been tutored by Zulus in his tribe in Africa) I couldn’t sense anything conclusive and tangible about this person. I just couldn’t read him at all.

We talked on the street corner and for some minutes I noticed nothing else around me. No one knocked into us, or jostled us, nor did I hear any other sound. I felt my guard go up, but my intrigue sharpen. I replied to his questions in monosyllables and let him do most of the talking.

The blunt precision with which he asked questions and offered information about me (without being asked to) made me realise early on that this man had an ability that he was not being forthcoming with. He was either very psychically gifted or a fabulous people reader. Either way he was launching into an unnerving full ‘read’ on the street corner. He started to tell me about the blocks in my chakras and the state of my bowel whilst throngs of people flowed around us. He said that he was leaving for Africa the following day and that I could go with him for healing, but as that would be too expensive he could send herbs at his expense to help clear my systems and ancient Zulu oils that would shed me of the evil spirits that were around me. By this point I had no idea what to make of this man. I had verbalised nothing to suggest that I would want to hear any of this and I definitely hadn’t told him of my ailing gut. My mind of course was rather vocal expressing it’s resistance with things like, ‘Who the hell stops you in the street, claims to be a Zulu healer and then starts energetically examining your bowel?! And why on earth would you want to take herbs from a man you just met on a street? If he is this gifted can’t he pick up on the fact he’s giving me the creeps. What does he want?’ Try as I might I couldn’t trust this man and the more he spoke the more my distrust grew. It bothered me that he seemed to want to heal me more than I wanted to be healed either by him or others. He seemed to have a personal attachment to the outcome he was pursuing and sensing this was unnerving me.

He then moved onto the problems I had with my Ex with startling accuracy and told me about someone who I had met at the weekend who had told me something troubling. He told me where and how I was storing this all in my body and the effects this was having and all the time I found myself closing up more and more and wondering what I had done to give this man permission to be so open and descriptive about my inners like this. He suggested we take a few steps off the pavement to a nearby table outside a coffee shop. By now he was trying to put my mind at rest because a blind idiot could have picked up on my defensiveness by now, and assure me of his good and noble character. His wording though was in the negative however (‘ I don’t try to do X,/I am not like Y’) and my mind heard nothing but what he was trying to tell me he wasn’t. He began to protest that I wasn’t looking him in the eye and that I was therefore hiding something dark from him by doing so. Telling me that I have dark spirits controlling my eyeballs is a good enough conversation closer if I ever heard one. I made my excuses and he gave up trying to convince me he was the saviour of my health and bowel and after saying a prayer went his own way.

Later back at Rocky’s and Sharon’s I found myself thinking about the concept of earth angels. I remembered that joke about how a man was sitting in the middle of a flood and asking for salvation but turned down the horse, the boat, and the helicopter. When he dies he protests to God about the absence of salvation and God points out all that he has turned down. I began to wonder if I had passed up an opportunity or if I had narrowly escaped being crowded by a nutter who I had inadvertently invited into my space. I shared my thoughts with Rocky and said ‘how do you know when you have met an angel and more to the point how do you trust them?’

His answer was the simplicity my mind was doing its best to ignore and avoid.

‘You just know,’ he said.

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