Got Giri-giri?

Or, I sing the body electric

What do you and your people call this? A cowlick? A swirl, a whorl? Did you know (thank you Wikipedia) these are also called crowns and . . . trichoglyphs? And that the National Library of Medicine has published scientific studies on these? Ok, on horses, but still!

So, as you can see, my little ol’ body features quite a big one—and in my familial and cultural circles, we call this a giri-giri (pron. geedie-geedie); isn’t that fun to say?

The woman who currently cuts my hair is from Japan, and speaks a bit more English than I do Japanese. But we communicate very well through pictures and our boistrous senses of humor. I honestly think she should have her own Netflix show. Sometimes I want an appointment just for the laughter medicine, haircut or not!

And, she passed my test, which is to agree to NOT try to disguise my giri-giri under some kind of weird blown-dry bulbous hair formation. Let my giri-giri be!

At a recent appointment, she said, “You want to part your hair on that side?”

“Yes, that’s where I’ve always parted it.”

“Ho . . . so . . . goes opposite way from this,” gesturing in spirals near my giri-giri.

All. these. years. I had no idea!

Then it hit me: Was this my reverse polarity?

Let me back up and provide context.

*

Years ago, when I was dealing with a lifelong body conundrum, I saw so many professionals, so many practitioners. Western. Eastern. Hands-on. Energetic. Eventually, I was given referrals to two healers with gifts in the psychic realm.

The first was a woman whose gifts helped me establish a space from divine feminine wisdom and compassion.

The second was a man, Reverend Someone (sorry, I honestly can’t remember his name), who said, amongst other things, “You’re in a reverse polarity; do you understand what I am saying?”

I didn’t say No.

I said, “Mm hmm” because I felt like I should know.

He continued on and we ended our call. Since that time, I’ve wondered—ok, been haunted—over the years what he meant by reverse (or reversed) polarity, and angry and embarrassed that I didn’t say I didn’t know.

Through search engines at that time, I found things like this:

and this:

and this:

and I must include this:

I’m sure these are rich in metaphors, but at the time, they only left me more at a loss.

My associative memory would ask, along the years, things like this:

“I do fine motor skills with my left hand and gross motor skills with my right; is that my reversed polarity?”

“I have two lines that run straight across both of my palms. Others tell me this is rare or weird. Is this my reversed polarity?”

And of course, when I came through to myself as queer, I asked myself, “Was living a heteronormative life my reversed polarity? Is being same-gender loving a reversed polarity?”

I even stubbornly kept a window open on my computer, an article about the core of the Earth subtly shifting the direction of her own oscillation, every so many decades. I thought of Mama Earth also somehow engaged in this dance of Life between her two polarities.

(image by Chuck Carter, National Geographic)

And so on.

Fast forward to my giri-giri. Was the way I parted my hair my reverse polarity?

My hair appointment was on a Wednesday, Valentine’s Day to be specific. Since that day, I’ve parted my hair back in alignment with my giri-giri. Because you never know. And something about it felt good, in a quiet and gentle way.

Sometimes I think the Divine follows the lead of our physical gestures of willingness, of readiness, of change. As if the simplest body-level shifts read as a kind of invitation or commitment, and help us to become more legible to help from Beyond.

Four days after my haircut and part-to-giri-giri realignment, I found myself Googling “human reverse polarity” instead of just “reverse polarity.” I hadn’t looked up “reverse polarity” in years, and never thought to add “human” there. But for some reason it felt like the most natural thing to do.

That day, I met and had a virtual session with an energy worker, an Asian American woman who works to course-correct human reversed polarities. It was participatory, collaborative, engaged and directive.

She is apparently one of many who do this work.

She educated me. On how much electromagnetics are a part of our human bodies. On how our natural polarities can become “reversed” when our immune and other systems become overrun by negative (harmful) energies.

Don’t even get me started—I am a sensitive, porous person who both inherited epigenetic and historical trauma, and chose to work professionally for years with those who’d lived with the effects of oppression and harm over generations—social, physical, spiritual, emotional, mental, you name it.

Ok. I guess I got started.

She taught me that when our sensitive systems get overwhelmed and overrun as such, our intended polarity weakens, gets run-down to the point where it can unwittingly go along with, incorporate, move in the direction of life-taking vs life-giving surroundings. Maybe even unconsciously, without meaning to, begin to draw those forces in, like to like. I can’t help but consider the social implications of this.

When communities get not only physically/materially overrun and run-down but energetically as well, what are the communal practices that work to address oppressive threats to group-level polarities? I find myself in awe of specific cultural practices that continue to generate life-saving invocation, remembrance, joy, beauty and enduring wisdom in the face of relentless domination.

*

Come back, Coke. Come back to your own story.

Ok.

When I look at the sequence of events that led me to this particular energy worker, I now see there were so many occurrences, people, practices and moments that served as divine crumbs along my path —I’m certain there were far more than I ever paid attention to. It’s as if Life takes a step (places shimmering crumb) and if I am awake, I notice the crumb, perhaps make something with it, which Life may read as me taking a step. Then She takes another (places a glowing or winking crumb), waits and sees. It’s almost like a dance.

I am struck by how it is Life herself who always initiates the steps, a way through. Countless ways. Creative ways. Dramatic ways. Everyday ways. Sensory ways. Quirky momentary ways. Dream ways. She seems to be always and in all ways trying to simply dance with me (with any of us). My job is to pay attention. To take her hand. To follow and stumble and even lead. Thus far in my experience, Her invitation is boundless and creative, always exceeding my seemingly infinite waywardnesses.

After that session, over the hours then days then weeks, a sequence of actions became noticeably possible for me again—because I was no longer participating in my own resistance. I was finally moving, with more consistency than I can remember, with my life again.

Quiet the reception of other people’s voices.

Cast yours forward and out.

Come home.

Body Memoir.

*

I have recently shared a bit of my story and this energy worker’s name and contact info with a friend in need. Maybe when we share our stories and the medicines that have found us, we get to participate in Life’s initiating gestures of love and retrieval for someone else. Maybe there are infinite ways to participate in collective polarity healing. Infinite ways to dance. May it be so.

Thank you giri-giri, thank you Life,

Coke