“I need you to hold your arm out to the side,” said Mrs. K. “Stretch
it out as far as you can. There is strength in the stretching.”
I held my right arm straight out to the side and strained my
fingers towards the wall. Mrs. K brought her arm down on mine as though to
break it.
“See? Right now you’re strong. But there are things we can
do that can make you weak. Do you have a pen and paper?”
I gave Mrs. K a pad of Post-It notes and a red Sharpie pen.
She scribbled furiously.
“Now, I’ll you now that I’m going to show you something upsetting
so you can prepare yourself. Hold your arm out like you did before. Are you
ready for this?”
She turned the Post-It note around very seriously.
I laughed. I had braced myself for a Sharpie replica of
Guernica or the black spot from The
Lottery. Once again her arm came down on mine, but my arm did not budge.
“Wow, you are strong!” cried Mrs. K, knocking twice on my
chest with her fist. That face was supposed to upset you, but it didn't! You even laughed!”
“That’s my defense mechanism,” I admitted.
“But there are some other tests that we can try,” she said. “Now,
I just want you to know that what I’m about to say to you is all a part of the
test…”
Mrs. K turned slightly to the side, looked down, and glared
up at me with disgust.
“You know what? You are terrible at this. You mess everything
up and you ruin every day for me. You’re the worst person here. That girl you
replaced? She was so much better than you, believe me. I'm never coming back here again.”
I maintained a straight face. She looked up again from the
floor and asked me to put my arm out again. Once again, my arm did not
collapse. She knocked on my chest like she was trying to draw out the little
alien that operated my robot body.
“You are rare!”
she cried. “You are so strong! Not many people can do what you just did. The
sad face, the insults, that would throw most people off! But not you!”
“Thanks,” I said.
“People always tell me that I should do this test in bars.
It works on almost everyone, it’s amazing. You can use it for so many things – do you
have any candy?”
Since we were in a yoga studio, there wasn't a counter
stacked with candy, but we did sell some candied nuts of the sort you find on the
streets of New York City.
“I want you to hold this jar of nuts to your chest like
this,” she said, putting the jar in my hand and positioning it. “And stick your
arm out to the side like you’ve been doing.”
When she tried to push my arm down, it worked this time. I wasn't sure if I was confused or caught off-guard. Perhaps she was using more force
this time, but I couldn't tell.
“Do you like candy?” Mrs. K asked very gravely.
“Not so much anymore,” I said. “I really like chocolate, but
that’s not the same thing…”
“Mm-hmm,” she said. “Sugar is the only thing that weakens
you.”
She knocked on my chest again.
“What does that do?” I finally asked.
“It stimulates the adrenals,” she explained. “But you can do
this with all sorts of things – like music. You know how some modern music is
like kkkkkkkomx#dtjoeiflpsb!hudhhbzcvqfgrufjzzzz&nodeddd?
You can test how it affects you. And then after you just knock a couple of
times on your adrenals and it brings you back to balance.”
Her husband came out of the studio with a yoga teacher.
“This girl is so strong!” she called out to him. “Her only
weakness is sugar!”
Mr. K joined in on the test, eager to break me.
“Watch me very carefully,” he said.
With a wide grin on his face he stared at me as he marched
in place like a robot.
“Now put your arm out to the side, keep it strong,” he said.
My arm did not budge this time.
“Now watch me this time,” he said.
He marched again with the same frightening smile in what seemed
to be the same way as before and when he tried to collapse my arm, it gave out.
Once again, I’m not sure if he was using more force the second time or if I was
distracted, but it worked nonetheless.
“See what happened there?”
“Not really,” I said. “I don’t understand what you were doing
differently.”
“You didn't even notice. That’s good! That means your brain
is processing what I’m doing before your conscious mind. Watch me again,” he
said, beginning to march. “Right arm, left leg. Left arm, right leg. Do you see
what I’m doing?”
“Okay,” I said.
“Now watch this: right arm, right leg. Left arm, left leg.
Does that make you uncomfortable or confused? Think of how a baby crawls. It’s instinctual.
Right arm, left leg. Left arm, right leg. There, I fixed you. These are tricks
we use in our acting troupe. If we want to play with our audience, someone might
come on stage marching one way, then we might disorient them in the second act
by having them march the other way. If you ever feel confused just march in
place and it will ground you.”
“And if you’re ever watching a really rowdy group of
children, just have them march in place with you,” Mrs. K said. “It calms them
down. And if you ever get a really mean customer here, someone really
difficult, just imagine a big, radiant sunflower growing on your chest. Then
imagine that this difficult person also has a big sunflower, and it might be
difficult to see but it will remind you to be empathetic and not to return
their nastiness to them. And if you need to recover afterwards, just give
yourself a little knock on the chest to stimulate your adrenals and it will
bring you back to normal.”
At this point Mr. K was gone and Mrs. K was standing alone in
the doorway.
“See you next week,” Mrs. K said. She blew me a kiss on her way out.
