goddessing

The divets in the panels of ceiling tile above me were deep and numerous. I found a particularly deep hole and focused on it, relaxing my shoulders and forearms, slowing my breathing. The robin I had seen in the morning came to mind — my first robin of the season, a sure sign that Spring has come. What a great omen for a day like today, I had thought earlier. Thank you, Mother of Birds.

The dentist gave me one round of shots, then a second round, and finally a third and fourth as my upper jaw clung stubbornly to sensation. After a final set of pokes satisfied both of us that I no longer had sensation, he prepared for the work at hand. "If you have to lose a tooth, it's the best one to lose," he had explained to me several weeks earlier. He had given the option of trying to save it with root canal and crown, but the odds weren't good that the fix would last long, and for the price I could have instead a needed new computer, or rings for our upcoming 10th anniversary, or a lift for putting my scooter in and out of the van I hope to buy in the not-too-distant future. The decision had been easy: I went to the dentist knowing I'd be losing a tooth.

I thought of the wisdom teeth that had been cut out of me when I was 21, and for the first time understood what they are probably all about — a second set of molars for the wisdom years when the first set, worn down or decayed, dropped, or were pulled, out. If I still had my wisdom teeth, I thought, would the one on this side of my upper jaw move into place and give me another twenty or thirty years of molar power?

As the dentist began to loosen the tooth from its bony socket, the pressure against me felt like an assault. I realized I had stiffened again. I refocused, and relaxed. I felt the tooth moving and heard what sounded like a crack. The last thing I wanted was a broken tooth that would have to be dug out of me. I began to speak to my tooth, to send it energetic support, to encourage it to release itself from my jaw. You're doing fine, I said to my molar. You release yourself wholly, with ease. I decided at that instant that I wouldn't ask to keep the tooth, that this magic was all about letting go.

"You're doing fine," said the dental assistant as she squirted water in my mouth and suctioned it out.

"You're doing fine," said the dentist as he grabbed the tooth with his extraction forceps and began rocking and rotating it.

I'm doing fine, I thought. And then it occurred to me — today is the Ides of March! For a brief moment, fear came pouring in as the famous phrase automatically formed in my mind: "Beware the Ides of March." I gave another brief moment to the inevitable question: Why didn't I schedule this on another day? Then I took metaphysical action: I release all fear and all causes of fear. I cast a net of protection around me.

Soon, the tooth was out. The tooth, and most of its root. A brief tug with a set of tiny forceps brought out the tip of the root that had clung to its long home.

"Hardly any bleeding," said the dental assistant.

"You're lucky," said the dentist. "With the amount of decay you had — see the two large cavities here and here? — I had expected the tooth might break and we'd have to cut it out. You've saved yourself some money and some discomfort."

Amazing....

Gratitude....

Focus, relax, banish fear, invoke protection, affirm: I hadn't realized how second-nature my spiritual practice had become until this tooth called for some on-the-spot practical magic.

Labels: magic, spiritual practice

I am so happy I have great teeth! Horror stories from the dentist I have heard to often!

;-)
 

2003-2005