Edgar Leeteg (April 13, 1904 – February 7, 1953), American painter who took French citizenship when he moved to Tahiti in 1933 to paint portraits of the locals on velvet. Considered the father of velvet painting.
Maybe you wake up one day and realize you need to change everything: what you’re doing and who you’re with. Maybe you wake up one morning and decide to move to French Polynesia and paint barebreasted native girls.
The good news about energy work is that you shed a lot of that emotional baggage you’ve been carrying around with you, inside you, including the anxiety you used to propel you through the day. You find yourself much calmer and much more present. The bad news is, you’re aware of the present, and the present feels completely unacceptable. How on earth did you get here?
In the early 60s my mother would take me on long drives with her and tell me stories. My father had moved us to Ohio and she didn’t care much for Ohio, so I would go for rides in the car with her on the weekends; sometimes the stories she told me were not about my father and his failings but of books she was reading. One I remember was about a young girl in London during the War (WWII) who hangs her wedding dress on the back of the bedroom door because she is going to be married the next day to the boy she loves, a handome RAF flyer, but when she wakes up she is in an entirely different room with no wedding dress hanging on the door, and she slowly begins to discover with the help of a kind but timid maid that she was knocked out and lost her memory in the Blitz and married a rich handsome cad, not the sweet boy she’d meant to marry, and time has passed and she is now the haughty bitter chatelaine of a stately home and that was as far as my mother had read.
I have discovered through very casual research that there are nearly two hundred amnesia romance novels (193 titles on a Goodreads List of Amnesia Romance). Probably many more than that. It is its own sub-genre in the romance world; apparently heroines are waking up all the time to discover a host of things (some unexpectedly nice, some fairly alarming) that have happened to them while they’ve been out.
I have had eight sessions of energy work. I wake up this morning to discover that I am much less anxious and upset than I usually am on a Monday morning. I also discover I have moved to the Valley. In addition I realize I am much older than I normally think of myself as being and that a host of things have not happened while I’ve been out, including, for example, running away from home and becoming a backup singer or a ballet dancer. Nor, apparently, did I manage to become the distracted and inattentive lover of a handsome titled Englishman with an ancestral family home in Wiltshire where I was taken after being found unconscious in the rubble from a bombing raid on London years earlier. Nor am I living in the Place des Vosges in Paris with my younger lover. Worse, there is no faithful retainer to ring for to bring me my breakfast which in the end is the only reason I get up. To make coffee. Caffeine does not produce the panicked rush of despair and anxiety that used to get me going, or not quite, but it will have to do.