On the baffling fallacy of the Reiki crystal quantum healing woman (ASMR)
Undergrad, masters, then doctorate:
a herculean effort to prove my dedication.
In the day, I am a nonbeliever, a
devotee of Carl Sagan, a
militant crusader for the numbers and equations that explain the world around us.
Observe the petri dish, notate the growing colonies, their
forbidden jello growing furry.
But.
At night, door closed,
I lie on my bed and unlock my phone,
to scroll deep to what I know is there, in a private browser
(Always private, hiding from the algorithm, the recommendations from my guilty history).
Her vaguely European accent–real or fake– and
the terrible lighting, in
a windowless closet draped with cheap tapestries from Amazon.
I am realigning your chakras.
I feel my jaw unclench.
Amethyst protects you from negative energies.
Watch her wave her hands, pretend to poke at me with selenite wands.
Clandestinely, I leave my body and feel lightness, utmost chill.
Breathe in for me.
Hovering, before the camera, the feathery-flicking of her hands,
the rustling of starched cotton.
Release.
Bewilderingly, I do.
.
Stink Eye Magazine 