Soft Spine ASMR Relax (sans cracks). No Mid Roll Ads.

Location: Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania

This Channel Contains:

~ 6 Complete Seasons (start from the beginning and you'll get it)
~ Condenser Microphone Captured Cracks & Crunches
~ Quiet Face Paper
~ Quiet Office (no phones or background noise)
~ Mindfully placed ads for relaxers
~ Engaging patient storytelling

THIS DESCRIPTION CONTAINS GRAPHIC CONTENT:

It’s 3am and the rain is tapping a soft jazz melody on my window. I’m looking out at the garden beds being fed a delicious liquid midnight snack. Behind me, one of the children is sleeping in an asymmetrical posture causing her to snore. But not the kind of snore that sends a sleepless spouse into rageful hate. It's cute. In 2 hours the birds will be singing their morning ragas and I’ll be finishing up a session with my lover, my solace in the otherwise dead of the night... Hatha Yoga.

We ended last week's description as I began the day. A friend entered the office 9 months pregnant and was ready for a pre-birth adjustment.

Then several days after, I was holding this baby's body... breathless... lifeless... praying his soul was at rest with God.

The father of the unborn child is someone who I consider family. A month ago he invited me to the birth. I wasn’t entirely sure why, neither was the mother. But he’s the kind of man, full of intuition and magic, that requires trust more than understanding.

When he called me Saturday night at 10:02, crying “the baby's heart stopped”

then I understood why...

"My Hero Bares His Nerves."

Births are a mystical occurrence. The entire process. From the primal attraction of 2 people to the... presence of tiny little snoring nostrils that mimic a defunct trumpet... that’s as far as I’ve gotten anyway.

Right now.

Oslo didn’t get a chance to experience the breath. The light. The noise. The sensations of the physical world or the emotions of the inner realm. He stayed safe in the quiet, dark, womb of creation... the perfection of his mother's nurturing... and the intelligence of procreational technology that was designed by Love.

And so he basked in the glory of that Love until his time of delivery.

I arrived at the hospital well after visiting hours. Security was tighter than usual due to Covid19. I’m not family, but I’m wearing weird pants and odd jewelry that matched the story of “spiritual counselor.” The men with badges gave me an eye roll and a head nod towards the elevators.

Contractions were a few minutes apart. The midwife and doula were sitting next to the mother whispering words of encouragement. They sounded like angels delivering tiny miracles. Their soft-spoken words filled the room with light, like candles burning in the dark.

I sat in silent support of their work. My hands on the father's shoulder. Eyes closed. Focused on the living prayer of my breath.

In an hour the scene would change. More nurses would come. Then a doctor. More noise. More procedures. Reminders to fill out...

paperwork

...
...
...

It is what it is.

I surrendered and noticed my breath saying...

“this moment did not lose any of the ceremonial sacredness... it’s just less noticeable.”

The mother... she was a warrior... emotionally, physically. mindfully, and therefore, spiritually. I’ve witnessed strength before, but I’ve only heard stories about humans who displayed this magnitude of fortitude.

I was just breathing... humbled by her moment.

And then Oslo was here. Cord marks spiraled around his neck and body... which as you know from this channel... is a sign of the shaman.

Mom and dad held him with an emotion across their faces and arms... that I’ve never seen before.

"Though lovers are lost, Love is not."

He was blue. Just as many deities of the Hindu pantheon are depicted. Blue represents the divine, like the wisdom drawn from the vastness of the sky, and the mysteries swirling in the depths of the ocean. Or even deeper hues... like that seen in the dead of night when looking out into the endlessness of space.

And sweet Oslo did not rage against the dying of the light. He went so gentle in the middle of that good night.

Like a true master.

Bringing medicine to our lives.

All of us.

...

And now the rain has stopped playing its song.

The Garden is quenched.

Life after death.

And I hope this video brings you... even a fraction

of the restful peace

Where Oslo now rests

4400/5000