Discarded Chi
November 8, 2008
"Shoes off," said Brian when Deborah and I arrived at his apartment. I knew the routine, but Deborah had never been to Brian's place before.
"Are you serious?" she asked.
"Yes, very serious. It's one of the few things I’m serious about."
Deborah sighed and struggled with her cowboy boots, trying to take them off while standing.
Brian's apartment is a small studio in the West Village, with not much in it besides a bed and a desk small enough for a grade schooler. To maximize the space, he does a lot of things on the floor—"A lot of things," he emphasized—and likes to keep it clean. By taking off our shoes, we avoid tracking in dirt, trash, cigarette butts, dog shit, and other street debris, and we likely help dust the floor by shuffling around in socks.
"I like your apartment," Deborah said as she sat in one of his two chairs.
"It's pretty small, isn't it?" said Brian.
"It's not that small. I used to share an apartment this size with two others. That was small." She looked around at the molding and arched doorway. "It's charming."
"Charming, huh? Yeah. At least you didn't say it looked like a gay man's apartment. I brought a girl here recently, and she looked around and said, 'It's so tidy. It looks like a gay man lives here."
"It's not that tidy," Deborah reassured him.
"Thanks."
I spotted a book titled The History of Opium on top of a stack on the desk. It was bookmarked multiple times with ripped pieces of newspaper, making it look waterlogged. "Why all the bookmarks?" I asked. "Are you researching for your own book?"
"Actually, I do that with all my books."
Looking at the other books on his desk and others around the room, it was true—they were all stuffed to the gills with bookmarks.
Brian's phone rang. Maud was calling for the third time, asking for his address.
Maud is an old friend from college. She recently quit her job to travel around Asia. Brian invited her to dinner so we could see her before she leaves. A minute later, she called again, saying she was downstairs. We put on our shoes, met Maud outside, and headed to a nearby Indian restaurant. "The place is a little dirty," Brian warned. "But the food’s cheap and tasty."
Maud's plans are vague; she hasn't bought a plane ticket or made any reservations, but since she's traveled extensively through Asia before, she plans to just wing it.
"When are you coming back?" I asked.
"Hopefully never," she said. She's lived all over the world and figures she'll settle somewhere eventually, but who knows where or when.
She was trying to persuade Brian to join her, but his stomach is only now getting close to normal after his last trip to India. Though part of him wanted to go, the other part—the part that remembered months of stomach distress—hesitated. Maud once caught a tapeworm during her travels, and they compared stories. Thankfully, they waited until after dinner to go into details.
Brian told us about all his efforts to cure his stomach issues—Western doctors, exotic remedies, and everything in between. He mentioned a guy he knows who, when not selling sodas at concerts, practices a hands-off version of Reiki. "Hands on or hands off," said Brian, "I wouldn't let that guy anywhere near me."
Deborah shared a story about a girl from work who was hit by a fire truck last year and nearly died. During her hospital stay, she was visited by a Reiki healer. "She said the treatment felt excellent, but she was on morphine, so who knows."
Brian mentioned meeting a hippie girl at Joe and Kakie's house recently. He started talking about yoga. At first, she thought he was making fun, but once she realized he was actually familiar with yoga and knew what he was talking about, she opened up. As they talked, she reached out and pulled at the air as if removing fuzz from a sweater, then threw it aside. She did this a few times before Brian asked what she was doing. “Oh, I'm just getting rid of stuff. Hope you don't mind."
"Getting rid of stuff?" I asked. "What was she getting rid of? All your well cultivated deep, dark, weird energy? What if it was stuff you wanted?"
"Exactly. Hey, I just got that!"
"She was just pulling it out of you and casually tossing it into the corner at Joe's house?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"That sounds irresponsible. What happens when Joe finds your pile of messed-up chi?"
"He'll probably call Kakie over. ‘Hey Kakie, look what I found,’" Brian mimicked, pretending to pick up something discarded like a dirty shirt from a hamper. "Let's try this on."
And so on.
