Client Hurt - Session 1

(Beep. Music fades in.)

Words have immense power over us. They were the creation of human minds. We gave them their meanings, but now, they hold meaning over us. Some more than others, right? There are some words we react to more strongly than we do others. There are words that stand to represent huge swatches of our lives. Our current states, as it were. There are words that could practically stand in for our names. 

And your word is hurt.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

And that frightens you, doesn’t it? Not for the obvious reason. But because you don’t know what I meant by that. As a word, ‘hurt’ has a complex nature. When I say it, you know the concept I’m referring to. And you know it well. The sound conjures up a very distinct image. A visceral one. Maybe there’s even a glimmer of experience that comes with it. A flash that happens so quickly that you aren’t even aware of it. But at the same time, there’s something so universal about the experience that you can’t really pin down exactly what is being referred to. If it’s not the concept, of course. It may be. But at the same time, well, thinking about how I opened this recording, it can’t be. It has to be more than that. 

“So is it my hurt?” you want to ask. 

But that’s only a half-finished question. Because there is an alternative. There are two options to present, you realized. Not just the hurts you carry but the one you may have inflicted.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

“Did I hurt my partner?” you want to ask. But you can’t. You will admit that you are scared or fearful. That confession will flow forth, but then you will leave it there. You won’t explain yourself. You won’t point out that it’s not the answer that frightens you. Rather, it’s the implications. You already know what the answer is. You don’t face it, though. 

“No,” you object. But there’s no follow up to that word. It’s an objection presented out of urgency and not substance. You can see the substance, but that’s just really getting us back to the source of the problem.

“I heard my partner’s session,” you are saying. “Are there really going to be five for each of us?” 

And I can answer that. But the subject shift is noted. However, the question some ways, genuine. Yes. And I presume you will listen to both sets. 

“Is that an invasion of privacy?” you want to ask. But now you’re realizing that this is a prerecorded message, and therefore, I cannot easily answer you, you think. But there are some things that can be predicted with or without the ability that you suspect I have but cannot bring yourself to believe in. There is a power to perspective, after all, even the ordinary ones. 

So perhaps by some standards it would be an invasion of privacy. But it depends on perspective. Your partner’s perspective conceals some things from her own eyes. But you can see them plain as day. You can see what it is she cannot. You can see everything I will point out to her. It will not be a surprise to you. And so, what is the invasion? Can you invade a space you already inhabit freely, a space you were invited into? It doesn’t seem possible to me. But maybe that’s just my perspective.

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

“But what about my sessions,” you think, but you do not say. Because maybe I’m not able to do what I claim to do. Maybe this is all guessing. Maybe I just understand people better than everyone else. Maybe there is an intensity there that is impressive. It would be the product of some sort of training or study. A stretching of human limitations that isn’t explicitly divine or supernatural but still, a stretch is a stretch. 

And you like the idea of this being a completely natural human feat, the cultivation of labor and not a break in the wall between the physical and the divine. It means there is room for error, doesn’t it? To err is human, they say. Someone says. You don’t remember the details. It’s an idea that has transcended the context that first delivered it. 

But I know the rest of it. “To err is human, to forgive is divine,” it goes. It’s a Christian idea. You are not Christian. You borrow the best parts of that religion, you joke. But you don’t know where the punchline is. It was something you heard your father say. You hate that you repeat him. 

(Music fades out and new music fades in)

“But what about my sessions,” you thought before we got caught up in distractions. Do I really know what you meant when you said, no. Not the earlier no to me, mind you. I mean, the proposal. But you knew that. Why did you say no to the proposal? I do know that. I know what you won’t say. And in some sense, the silence on that front is fair. Keep your secrets. They are, in fact, your secrets. Your partner won’t be listening to your sessions. She’s… distracted. But you suspected as much. 

But what about the consequences of those secrets? Or one secret in particular. It’s one that affects you. It’s one that haunts you. I know a ghost is hard to see, but will you, by chance, be willing to hear it?

(Music fades out. Beep.)

The Oracle of Dusk is a production of Miscellany Media Studios with music licensed from the Sounds like an Earful music supply. It was written, edited, produced, and performed by MJ Bailey. And if you like the show, tell friends about it or the quasi-friends that are still on your social media feeds because social norms evolved before words did, am I right?