Pressdog.com

I’ll Stay in My Body, Thank You

By Bill Zahren
(Posted 09/19/03)

A former coworker called the other day to share her distress over running across a marketing snake oil salesmen we both know from previous lives.

I call these guys Energy Breathers. Long, long ago, when I was a reporter (on a planet far, far away -- Sioux City, Iowa), my city editor forced me to interview a guy who was into "energy breathing." His theory was that, by breathing in a certain way, you could unlock your chi, find inner peace, explore the dark recesses of your being and probably reduce your taxes.

Then, after the interview, to my extreme horror, this guy insisted that I, personally, energy breathe. Now, energy breathing may be a legit deal, full of healthful benefits for mind and body, but asking a small-town Iowa boy to conduct internal exploration via rapid respiration is like asking a New York dockworker to sing kumbaya with a tourist from Wisconsin.

But I was trapped in a little conference room that doubled as our clipping morgue, and the Energy Breather was blocking my escape. The door, conveniently, was open so all my coworkers could witness the proceedings. Since the same small-town Iowa boyness that made the process seem silly to me prevented me from telling the guy to piss off, I broke down and energy breathed.

It was more like rapid panting, if you ask me, but the interviewee seemed to think it was way cool. So I sat there for about five minutes, puffing like I had either just sprinted around the building or been scared shitless by the sight of the mayor of Sioux City naked. (No offense, Bob!) My coworkers, meanwhile, laughed so hard they achieved a higher spiritual plateau.

It all came flooding back -- complete with dilated pupils -- when my former co-worker, Cassie, called last week to report a brush with a "spiritually aware" marketer who once claimed to have had three out-of-body experiences and visited a couple past lives.

Just what is the deal with that? I’m from Iowa, where leaving the house is a big decision let alone bolting from the biological cocoon. As a rule, we Midwesterners tend to stay right inside our bodies at all times. They’re hermetically sealed. We don’t just go popping in and out like they're some kind of Zip-loc bag.

First, let’s consider the weather. What if you popped out for a paranormal walkabout when it’s, say, minus 22 outside? And you without a wrap. Not even skin and some wispy (or heavy) body hair to keep you warm at night.

If I were Annika's husband, father, brother or uncle, I'd probably be more proud of how she's handled herself off the course than how she scored on it.

So you just jump out in the summer. Fine, assuming you can control this kind of thing. I’m talking about serious sunburn here. Say you’re at the park, hanging with the Midwestern homies, talking crops and hogs when, bingo, you pop the top and leave your body. The clothing and sun block are back in the biological shell, so you’re pretty much carrion for the UV rays. Explain that one to the internal medicine physician included in your employer-sponsored health network: "Left my body Doc. What can I say? I think I burned my superego pretty bad."

Second, we’ve got enough trouble just meeting the challenges of people with bodies, let alone all the stuff that you’d face if you got out of it. That’s all I need, is to travel to a higher plain of understanding so I know what people really think of me. I’m neurotic enough. I’d have a whole new set of issues to screw me up even more than I am now. There are some things I don’t want to understand, OK? I think I’ll just hunker down inside here where it’s warm and focus on raising the kids and understanding soccer's hand ball rule, thanks anyway.

Third, what if you got out and couldn’t get back in? Forgot the bio keys or something. That would be embarrassing, having the wife all perplexed: "Bill seems especially stoic today, what with his body being vacant and decaying and all."

The closest I’ve ever come to having an out-of-body was in 2000 election when the Supreme Court, in a bold affirmation of its oft-stated belief in state's rights, ordered a state (Florida) to stop its recount of the recount. For a second there, I’m pretty sure I left my body. Not willingly, mind you, but I do recall briefly hovering over myself at one point.

I’m also not sure I want to visit any former or future lives. I believe God gives you one life and then drops you into the big Jacuzzi in the sky where the champagne bucket is always full and there are no hangovers (provided you get right with him while on Earth, of course). But what if I’m wrong and it turns out you were some kind of medieval ax murderer in a former life? Just knowing would be bad enough, but visiting? No thanks.

And what if the Energy Breathers read this, fly over and kick my spiritual butt?

So this fifth-generation Iowan is going to keep the hatches battened and remain fully encased in a 5 millimeter layer of spirtual shrink-wrap -- with brain firmly anchored inside the skull at all times -- and stay away from the body exit door. I’ve got enough to deal with inside this imperfect carbon-based unit, thanks.

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