“I come from the mountain,” he said, and growled. This was no game, however, but serious shaman voodoo meant to jolt me. I knew the mountain, too. “Do you know how many people I’ve taken out there?” he asked. “Just you,” he said.”You’re the only one.” We talked a long time. The rest of this is secret, but it really happened. “Say good-bye to this place,” he told me near the end.
That was the least of the energy he’d come to share, but today I tried it. Whenever my eyes lit on something in the house or outside that I was predisposed to hate, dislike, or wished I’d never see again, I addressed it with a firm “good-bye.” The actual word in real time. I felt a tiny shift each time I did it. The faint dissolving of a bond.