My peer group stood and we all stacked the black chairs in the corner of the room. I didn’t hate this part in propheets, although none of us ever know what was going to happen next, it was always refreshing getting out of those chairs after the extended and arduous propheet rap. Though we didn’t know what was next for the thousandth time at RMA, I was surprised when an excercise occured that I truly could not have predicted.
The Brothers Keeper Propheet had started out like the other two. Some rousing and ice- breaking, the spooky atmosphere made complete to begin with the particular musical selection chosen by Derek- that “What a Wonderful World” a la Louis Armstrong. It played over and over and over as Derek Hays had conjoled us about our friendships in and out of the peer group. The rap had done it’s thing: We all sucked at being friends and didn’t know what a real friend was. We enable our friends to do negative things to themselves and to ourselves, and view the world negatively whether we’re lighting their crack pipe or supporting their image. I’ll say that about the tools in the propheets, they were black and white. It wasn’t algebra. You either were a true friend or putting a knife in anothers back.
When the first excercise began it was immediately different than that which could have been expected because it differed from everything that had happened up until that point in a propheet. Nobody had ever laid their hands on me. Up to now, the propheets were filled with different sections and “excercises” that we practiced from sitting positions on the floor or in chairs. When we were told to get with our predetermined partners, that wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was sitting down cross legged in front of Jon so that my knees were against his. The music changed to “He ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” and though it was a sort of slow song, the sounds of some grunts started to sound in my ears and in my periphery the awkward movements began as we followed instruction.
Yelling and crying began around me as Derek walked over to Jon and me.
“ Yeah, think of how you push each other away all the time. Think of how you push everyone away and PUSH him! That’s good. How does it feel? It hurts doesn’t it. Go on Really push, Show him that you don’t want to be his friend”.
Derek’s warbling voice coincided with the music and an eternal memory formed.
Jon’s face morphed into one of pain as he and I thrashed at one another on the floor. It wasn’t a grimace of physical pain such as a face of exertion and mental anguish. Evidently, he was mirroring my facial expression. I pushed harder and as we were not to pull away from the pushes either. There we were, all sitting in two person groups, pushing our partners in the chest and shoulders while they acted like wise. Meanwhile we were encouraged by the three wandering staff to vocalize and put words to what we were doing.
“I don’t need you! I don’t trust you, Jon!” I yelled at him as we started to sweat from it all.
Every time someone would move from their partners’ pushes, the staff would go over to them and put them back into the uncomfortably close, knee to knee position. We did this for close to an hour, and whenever the room would start to get silent, a staff member would appear and remind us how we quit on our friends every day. How it was hard work to push people away, and though our arms were tired and voices shot already, we would go on, hoping another part of the propheet was coming up. This was the most physical we had been with each other yet. This wasn’t hugging and smooshing, however. Derek finally shut down the music and dimmed the lights. We took a water break, and I took a long piss, shaking when I lifted up my arms.
fornits as therapy man
