pendulum
On Friday there was a man walking round the hamlet with a small scarlet pendulum held between his thumb and forefinger. He was working in conjunction with Yves and he was dousing. I invited him into the house, curious to see if he would agree with us, and so many others, that the house had a really good vibe.
“I bet your cat likes to sit there”, he said pointing to Manon’s favourite spot on the sofa. “And there..”, indicating the exact spot on the other sofa where Oscar is often to be found curled up. “That is where the bad energy line is in the house, and cats are very sensitive to it. However, they are polarised, so they will pick up the negative spots as positive.” We continued the tour and when we got to the bedroom, Manon and Oscar were snuggled in a furry B shape on the new Provençal bedspread. “And, unfortunately, here. If you continue to sleep here you will not be well. Not ill exactly, but you will always be fighting for your health.” Moving on to the studio he said. “This room is not good, but there is a spot here…about where the easel is where there has very clear energy.”
Julian has been trying to persuade me to have our bedroom in the end room where we have built the en-suite shower, rather than the middle room where I like the morning light and where it is for the moment in our constant state of temporary arrangements. I have never been crazy about the end room but Julian loves it.
“This room, however, is fantastic. This is where you should have your bedroom.” Said the pendulum swinger.
“Can’t you feel the difference?” said Yves.
“No” I said, embarrassed and wondering if this is why our polarised cats have adopted it as their killing ground, often leaving mouse heads and bird livers to impress us during our morning ablutions.
Women it seems, though sensitive to the idea, often can't feel a bloody thing. Men, however, though open to Alfa Romeo Spiders, are not very open to dousing. Bloody ironic then that they are more sensitive to changing energetic patterns. I did a deal with the douser, agreeing on a price for him to come and clear the energy when he was next passing through. I was concerned that Julian would think it all a bit kooky, but he didn’t bat an eyelid.
"So what did the douser say?" he asked. Of course he liked being proved right.
posted by ruth at 3:26 PM
5 Comments:
Men, for all their faults, can be straightforward and real. They are basic and animal - "they are like dogs" says my own husband. Women on the other hand can sometimes analyse, think and talk about stuff too much.
I like this post - it's genuine and funny.
...and write blogs about stuff too I guess!
I, too, like this post. I'm becoming a regular visitor to your blog. I like your honest writing and your photos. I'm a huge fan of Julian's work, though I haven't yet commented at his site. I enjoy reading of your lives in France and the adventures you're having presently in respect to the constuction of Julian's studio. I'm on Long Island, New York, surrounded by men with leaf blowers and women with pointy high heels, all driving huge SUVs. Provence looks pretty damn good to me. Thanks for sharing.
hey thanks mark. I know long Island, went to Stony Brook! So I know the big hair tribe. However the grass is alwyas greener and I often yearn for a moment of my exquisite four years there.
I shall pay mroe attention to wher the cat curls.
I agree about men being more right about this, my D is much better at picking out apartments, often ones I did not like, but turned out to be very good.
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