A Microphenomenological Interview with Myself (ùtesita)
A Microphenomenological Interview with Myself, About an Event During the Super Moon on the 26th of April, 2021, Time: around 16:30, Location: My home, at the computer, on Zoom, south coast of Finland
I see all the people participating in the Zoom session in small rectangles: there is J., R., A., D., P., … Some have their cameras on, some do not. I see Hardip. She has silvery hair, warm and keen eyes, the color is brown. Today, she wears a yellow dress. I can see in her eyes, that she loves her work and this makes me trust her. I feel taken care of. I feel a connection to everyone in the zoom, many of them I have met in these sessions every week for months now. I feel safe in this company, although some of these people I have never met in person. But we are all here to heal.
When I look at this space of the zoom again, I remember seeing J’s uncle, who was there for the first time.
Hardip began this session by talking about the universe, and how we are connected to it. She describes how the flows of liquids, electricity, cellular fluids, electromagnetic resonances, travel through us all, and back again - both to the outer space as well as to the earth. I make my first drawing.
I see J’s uncle, he is in a room that is dimly lit. It is evening in India, from where he is dialling in. The light behind him is pale greenish yellow and it lights up a part of the wall behind him. His face is mostly in the shadow, and from the darkened face I can distinguish eye glasses, that reflect some white and grey light. Also his silvery hair glimmers in the shadows. He seems to be around the age of 70. He points at his ear, and speaks about how he has trouble with that ear. There is a sharp, shooting pain, right at the beginning of the actual ear channel.
I imagine myself hearing the hum of a fan in the room (or do I hear it?), where J’s uncle is seated.
Hardip says something, the words I do not remember, but I know she talks about how the part of J’s uncle’s ear that is in pain is connected with other parts of the body and areas in the brain. And she starts tapping the doll with the hammer, at the same time as she tells us exactly which points she is tapping and why, what the connections are - what these points “do”.
The sound of the tapping comes back to me now. This is the sound always in Tong Ren sessions. It is like a metronome, and it is the cue for us all in the session.
As the tapping for J’s uncle’s ear begins, I feel a shooting pain in my right ear. Just like I was having a nasty ear infection. I tell this in the zoom and Hardip shows how I can press and gently pull the nip of the ear (the part of cartilage and skin that closes the ear channel when diving - if we were still the amphibians we once were). I do so and the pain goes away. Hardip explains that there are a whole lot of nerves that conjoin in this little nip and tension in the body can cause pain to pack in there.
I put my right hand index finger into the beginning of the channel of my right ear. I feel the nip snugly wrapping part of my finger. I put my thumb onto the nip on the outside, while I press gently the index finger towards the thumb. The nip is in between my thumb and index finger. I feel the
pain release immediately. I repeat the gesture a couple of times, hoping I could repeat the gratifying sense of relief from the pain - even though there was no more pain to be released from.
I make my second drawing about the relief of this pain, the nerves conjoining, and hearing.
Diachronic Dimension of Experience
When, for the second time, J’s uncle refers to the pain in his ear. That is when my ear starts to hurt.
Hardip starts to tap.
I tell the zoom, that my ear hurts now.
Hardip tells me to press the nip of my ear.
I see in my mind’s eye what Hardip describes about the ear and the pain. I see in my mind’s eye the nip, the red pain in it, the blue and green nerves running to the nip, I see the blue ear drum, the flow of air, sounds, blood and skin.
In the end, I make a drawing.
The pain is very hard, unyielding. Compact red.
When I press it away, there is a lingering feeling, a faint memory of the pain. This is light blue, icy. I can still feel the pain, recall it into being.
I can recall the image of J’s uncle, as a floating rectangle. It is distant. Middle, but a little to the left and down. Like third row from top, second seat from left toward right, in a seating of twenty in four rows.
I do not see myself, but I see the images in my inner eye.
I hear the tapping. Loud and intense. Whacking. It comes from in front of me, but sometimes it goes out, and becomes distant, or goes out altogether. And then comes back in, grows louder and penetrating.
The pain in my ear.
The size: it is as small as the tip of the nip of my ear. But it sends out tentacles, light blue, that go all the way into the side of my mouth. It is so intense, that it makes me jump. It feels like cold steel on cold steel, grinding. But not coarsely, rather smoothly: screeching in a smooth, dentist-drilling your-teeth kind of way.