Clints Healing Massages for Body And Soul
Without Prejudice
He's too young, too young, only 34; He's so spiritual and his family don't listen to him, so he comes to me. All hunched over with the weight of them all on his shoulders. He loves to spend time with me for some reason and I feel like his Mother.
But he knows I'll listen and his ideas won't be scoffed at. He is huge, Like a 6' 2 ' giant of worked on muscle and sinew, his body a temple to his health ethic. His family are strict religious people, 7th Day Adventist, but they are also Croatian so they drink like fish and smoke cigarettes like trains. One is addicted to gambling, one alcoholic and they all think they know what is best for Clint.
But he is a quiet achiever this Man, he knows what he wants, he just doesn't know how to get it, yet. I tell him I've been working out and my arms and shoulders ache, so he massages my shoulders, bliss and as he does he talks in his quiet voice. Laconic and slow at first and after a while with growing passion.
He's at a crossroads, not sure which direction to take. He's fed up with his draining family and wants to break away. He was 20 -21 when His much loved Dad died. And his Dad died, young at 48. Not treating his diabetes for the last 5 years of his life. Leaving it all up to God and died after amputations and heart failure.
My Sister, Helen, soon to be Nurse Manager, said to tell these people God invented Doctors and Medications for a reason. She is quite adamant about it. But what do you tell a family of people that are steeped in their own faith. Their beliefs. Governed by the religious Grandmother that is so devout and so demanding of them all.
Clint listens to what I say in return. He never argues unless it's with Family and even then he's such a gentle soul that he speaks in such a calm and rational way, they all listen. They class him as "Special", not understanding his frustration at them. He's not like them. He understands theology and it's his passion, much loved time spent in Church with his Dad.
He's not fond of evangilists, and he's not over the top. He has his faikth and it guides him through every day. I tell him he could be so much more than he is, without the family dragging him backwards to dark addictions, (theirs, not his ) and their gloomy talk, part cultural, part whingeing wogs, he calls them.
They all moan that they have no money, that life is hard, bad, sad, mad. He says he finds them draining and I tell him to limit his time spent with them. Some people just want to "Open their mouths and let their bellies roll" as my Mother would say. He doesn't want to hear it anymore, he said it's unending.
So he massages my burning shoulders and arms and calves and all the while he is chatting, that is not the Clint everyone else knows. And he's shyly funny, poking fun at my groaning and making me laugh. What the family alos doesn't know is that he is highly intelligent, that little gem he hides under a bushel.
And because they just let rip evrything in front of him, you know those families, where everyone gets drunk and screams at each other and calls each other unintelligible names and then there are threats of never speaking again. And by the next week they are all back together friends ly as ever. A lot of it's alcohol fuelled and some religion thrown in for good measure.
I've seen Clints Uncle Ives slam his hand down so hard on the radio when his horse lost that the plastic big knobbed antenna went straigh through his palm. And when Clint and I cam back to Ives house He was nursing it, the towel all around it bloody and he decided vodka would fix it better than anything else and rank himself into insensibility.
He was right it healed with out antibiotics or medications, it just healed with in days. And Uncle Ives looks like Iggy Pop as Golum, in his 60's and has the best petite worked out body you have ever seen. And as brown as tobacco all year round. Clint doesn't tell him he was coming here this time. He said Uncle Ives gets a bit funny, seeing as I've known Clint since he was a toddler.
Ivan being Ivan knew I was seeing his nephew but he still had to try once, drunk to make a pass at me and I slapped him with a resounding crack across his face, then he crucified himself with the antenna and then warned Clint away from me as I was too old for him, which I know. And Clint just could not give a dman and just strolls in all sweeteness and light.
I asked him what his passion was and he said religion. He dreams of being a Pastor and doing the work overseas. He said his cousin did it for 3 months in Africa and she loved it. She wouldn't go a again she said also. I can imagine what the sights of famine and dying babies can do for people and I express concern to Clint he might not be able to handle some of the worse aspects of the job.
But he's sure he can and it means need 3 years of study at a College of Theology. I say hardly anyone is volunteering for the course these days and he should be able to get in. He says am I too old and I just laugh and laugh
LOve You Clint ,,,Love Janette
He's too young, too young, only 34; He's so spiritual and his family don't listen to him, so he comes to me. All hunched over with the weight of them all on his shoulders. He loves to spend time with me for some reason and I feel like his Mother.
But he knows I'll listen and his ideas won't be scoffed at. He is huge, Like a 6' 2 ' giant of worked on muscle and sinew, his body a temple to his health ethic. His family are strict religious people, 7th Day Adventist, but they are also Croatian so they drink like fish and smoke cigarettes like trains. One is addicted to gambling, one alcoholic and they all think they know what is best for Clint.
But he is a quiet achiever this Man, he knows what he wants, he just doesn't know how to get it, yet. I tell him I've been working out and my arms and shoulders ache, so he massages my shoulders, bliss and as he does he talks in his quiet voice. Laconic and slow at first and after a while with growing passion.
He's at a crossroads, not sure which direction to take. He's fed up with his draining family and wants to break away. He was 20 -21 when His much loved Dad died. And his Dad died, young at 48. Not treating his diabetes for the last 5 years of his life. Leaving it all up to God and died after amputations and heart failure.
My Sister, Helen, soon to be Nurse Manager, said to tell these people God invented Doctors and Medications for a reason. She is quite adamant about it. But what do you tell a family of people that are steeped in their own faith. Their beliefs. Governed by the religious Grandmother that is so devout and so demanding of them all.
Clint listens to what I say in return. He never argues unless it's with Family and even then he's such a gentle soul that he speaks in such a calm and rational way, they all listen. They class him as "Special", not understanding his frustration at them. He's not like them. He understands theology and it's his passion, much loved time spent in Church with his Dad.
He's not fond of evangilists, and he's not over the top. He has his faikth and it guides him through every day. I tell him he could be so much more than he is, without the family dragging him backwards to dark addictions, (theirs, not his ) and their gloomy talk, part cultural, part whingeing wogs, he calls them.
They all moan that they have no money, that life is hard, bad, sad, mad. He says he finds them draining and I tell him to limit his time spent with them. Some people just want to "Open their mouths and let their bellies roll" as my Mother would say. He doesn't want to hear it anymore, he said it's unending.
So he massages my burning shoulders and arms and calves and all the while he is chatting, that is not the Clint everyone else knows. And he's shyly funny, poking fun at my groaning and making me laugh. What the family alos doesn't know is that he is highly intelligent, that little gem he hides under a bushel.
And because they just let rip evrything in front of him, you know those families, where everyone gets drunk and screams at each other and calls each other unintelligible names and then there are threats of never speaking again. And by the next week they are all back together friends ly as ever. A lot of it's alcohol fuelled and some religion thrown in for good measure.
I've seen Clints Uncle Ives slam his hand down so hard on the radio when his horse lost that the plastic big knobbed antenna went straigh through his palm. And when Clint and I cam back to Ives house He was nursing it, the towel all around it bloody and he decided vodka would fix it better than anything else and rank himself into insensibility.
He was right it healed with out antibiotics or medications, it just healed with in days. And Uncle Ives looks like Iggy Pop as Golum, in his 60's and has the best petite worked out body you have ever seen. And as brown as tobacco all year round. Clint doesn't tell him he was coming here this time. He said Uncle Ives gets a bit funny, seeing as I've known Clint since he was a toddler.
Ivan being Ivan knew I was seeing his nephew but he still had to try once, drunk to make a pass at me and I slapped him with a resounding crack across his face, then he crucified himself with the antenna and then warned Clint away from me as I was too old for him, which I know. And Clint just could not give a dman and just strolls in all sweeteness and light.
I asked him what his passion was and he said religion. He dreams of being a Pastor and doing the work overseas. He said his cousin did it for 3 months in Africa and she loved it. She wouldn't go a again she said also. I can imagine what the sights of famine and dying babies can do for people and I express concern to Clint he might not be able to handle some of the worse aspects of the job.
But he's sure he can and it means need 3 years of study at a College of Theology. I say hardly anyone is volunteering for the course these days and he should be able to get in. He says am I too old and I just laugh and laugh
LOve You Clint ,,,Love Janette
