Ian and I finally made it: We searched around in the darkness for a long while with our flashlights and eventually found the amygdala. Here it is, you cried, right behind the optic nerve. Yes, there it was, and it was thanks to your extensive knowledge of motorcycle wires that you managed to follow the highway of the nerve so diligently until we found the almond-shaped structure. The giant body was in semi-dolphin pose: Real-Size Sivan was in the sauna.
She was, at her body’s request, directing a lot of blood into her head while allowing her lower body to rest. In this headstand prep pose, she was bent forward, leaning on her head, supported by her hands, which were firmly cradled one in the other around the crown of her head. Her forehead bore her body’s weight, as it pushed heavily into a rolled up towel, while the skin of her forehead was ironed from the top of her hairline smoothly down to her eyebrows. Her chin was subtly tucked in, elongating the back of her neck. Her back was curved over like a long question mark, while her legs were tucked into restful child pose. She was sweating, a lot, and the sauna was at almost 170 degrees Fahrenheit.
Ian and Mini-Sivan found the amygdala and stood there, very still, and very proud of themselves. Ian’s motorcycle and Sivan’s horse were propped to the side, their companions for this inner-body journey. Hell, yeah! you said. Yes, Ian, this is it. I guess since all the traumatic repressed memories have come up this week, and now I’m naked in a private sauna in dolphin pose and releasing toxins, and thanks to all those years of meditating, my amygdala is healing.1 It’s fucking cool right now, you point out, it’s glowing in celebratory pulsating colors. There’s so much light, like a disco-party.
Ian and I stood by the amygdala looking on in awe and satisfaction. It transitioned slowly, like a 1999 screensaver with a fadeout effect, from Red to Green to Purple, to Yellow, to Red, to Pink and back again to Red, creating a lambent aurora-borealis-type environment in the darkness of the inner brain. Big-Sivan interjected, “Oh! This is affecting my third eye!” Cool, they both say back — they’re helping her hold this big transformative moment she’s going through. What do you see, they ask her. “It’s directly giving me so much more vision, like another layer of spiritual reality has revealed itself to me!”
I brought something to memorialize this moment, you told me. You are such a hot cowboy and I feel so lucky that you’re with me in this, standing in these dark brain fields right now, I thought to myself. I’d never dated anyone with so many tattoos before. You gave me a jar with an aqueous liquid. What’s this? asked Mini-Sivan. Oh, it’s one giant tear that I cried this month to get over my ex. I can’t possibly accept this! I said, or thought, or both. Ian, it takes you one month to produce one giant tear, this is truly special and generous of you and a lot to receive. You insisted, with a simple confidence that I liked so much about you, which always immediately disarmed me. Ian and I decided the most healing ritual would be to pour the tear drop onto the amygdala, so I, Mini-Sivan, opened the jar and released the beautiful tear to intermingle with the cerebrospinal fluid, onto the fertile ground of the radiantly transforming amygdala.
Strangely, or maybe not, an Amy Winehouse song came on. It’s “Tears Dry On Their Own.”
Ian and I held hands in this strange and beautiful sunset moment, at this dark brain field, vast skies lit by the phosphorescent disco-light, while Big-Sivan is in Shavasana, post-sweat, post-sauna, post-shower, allowing her body to relax and cool down. All four of us (including the hug-giving sauna, the receptacle for this entire experience) didn’t really know where this was all going to go next, but, clearly, it was going to get very, very good.
1 Which means more and stronger neural highway connections to other brain parts can evolve, and also, the amygdala can actually starts shrinking. Like a frightened turtle. People with trauma often have a swollen amygdala, signaling excessive danger to the body and exaggerating emotional reactions to everyday situations, kind of like someone living their life walking around with a swollen tongue. But on the inside.
