Large, highly polished, perfectly smooth pebbles of bloodstone are good to look at. They’re mostly plain deep sea green in colour. Others are special. They come spattered with blotches or dots of crimson red. That’s the real bloodstone. Maybe only two or three in a hundred and you need to search for them in the big plastic sacks at the wholesalers but a little patience is well rewarded.
The trick is to have all the ordinary pieces out on the stall and the real stuff, much prized by the healing fraternity and all other forms of acolytes, hidden away and only brought out on special occasions. All the pebbles cost ten pence or so to buy including the precious stuff. The wholesalers can’t be bothered to sort it. Selling it is a different story altogether. I’ll sell you a plain piece for just a quid. Sometimes I even give it away if I’m in a good mood. It makes me look generous and often leads to other sales. The real bloodstone, and I always say ‘real’ with a very special, almost holy kind of voice, is only for those special people who have trouble in their lives. People who really need it!
Real bloodstone you see is for people whose lives are in chaos. Who experience turbulence and troubles in their daily lives and relationships. And why is this? It’s because they lack balance! In the litany and theory of crystal healing and therapy there are two halves of the human psyche, the Yin and the Yang. Don’t ask me what it is. I don’t want to know! It’s all tied up with oriental, probably Chinese or Korean medical psychic quackery but to large numbers of impressionable people who’ve heard the phrase and can’t make heads or tails of it anyway, it’s the dogs bollocks! If they have personal, usually emotional troubles in their behaviour or relationships with other people it’s because the two sides, the Yin and the Yang in their psyche are out of balance and it is bloodstone that performs the wonder of restoring that balance, giving them a better, more relaxed life of harmony and equanimity. A kind of psychic returning.
The healing fraternity made of up hard core adepts and countless followers really believe in it all so when one of their number come to the stall looking troubled and you talk about balance, casually throwing out the hallowed words of yin and yang there’s a sudden deep hush because they’re instantly all ears. Ready to be sold the real thing. Naturally at a real price!
It was a week or so back on a Monday when I found myself particularly possessed by the black art of selling! The morning had been sunny and warm with the light all radiant along the stalls. The market was busy but I wasn’t doing so good. Around midday I noticed a tall stately looking woman heading my way. Early forties I guessed with worry all over her face. She caught sight of the gem trees and was about to turn away when I cut in on her thoughts. “I’m sorry you’re having so much trouble at home with your husband,” I ventured. “I’m sure he still loves you, even though you’re giving him such a hard time.”
She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me with astonishment. “How could you possibly have known that?” she said strongly. “It’s true then,” I replied.
She still couldn’t believe it. It was impossible for me to have known.
“The turbulence people have in their lives, in their psyche,” I added, using the special spiritual word, “spills out all over the place. You’re not the only person to suffer a lack of balance with the yin and the yang out of alignment. It comes out in all these emotional problems you’re having.”
She caught on immediately. She must have somehow heard the magic words and phrases before. The yin and the yang being out of alignment… creating the lack of balance. That was the cause of all her trouble at home. Her lack of emotional balance… the two halves of her psyche being out of joint.
Christ sakes, the poor woman I thought. She was only going through the menopause and suffering hormonal problems that all women experience but who was I to tell her? If her doctor hadn’t done anything to help her why me? I was only a market trader. And yet… What if I could really do anything to help her? To make her believe in something. In herself… Maybe it might just help at home.
“What you need is bloodstone,” I suggested. “There’s lots of it here on the stall,” I said pointing to the pebbles. “It’s healing. Restores balance between the yin and the yang. Here, have a piece on me.”
I picked up a large pebble and put it in her hand. “I hope it works. If not you can always come back and feel a piece of the real bloodstone.”
“The real bloodstone,” she said, echoing my words. “Yes, I said sagely. The real bloodstone is very special. Only comes from one place I know in the world.”
She was intrigued. “What makes it different?”
I had the answer all ready. “The pebbles are spattered with red. Like little blotches and spots. Makes it look a bit like blood. They’re the ones used by the healers.”
“Do they really work?” she wanted to know. Did I believe in them the question came straight.
I replied just as straight. I just didn’t know. “I suppose if you really believe in a thing then it will work for you. But you’ve really got to believe. It all comes down to a matter of faith.
There it was in a nutshell. Crystal healing… the new religion. Science eat your heart out!
I wasn’t volunteering to show her any of my specials. I wanted her to ask and she did. Out from under the table came another one of my baskets. Half a dozen beautiful pebbles all looking spattered with blood. She picked up the best, full of deep crimson blotches. “How much?” she wanted to know.
I wanted to say take it, it’s free, but make a donation to the Prince of Wales Trust, only I was just a poor market trader and she could have been the wife of a banker.
I looked at her and felt a deep kind of pity. More a compassion than anything. I really wanted her husband to be kind to her. To be understanding the way that men should if they feel love. But then the pebble was beautiful. Maybe its plain beauty would help. Give her some understanding.
“Twenty pounds,” I said firmly. “It’s the best that I’ve got and I think it might help.”
She took a note out of her wallet. “That’s for your kindness,” she said quickly looking at her watch. “I only popped out during my lunch break. Got to get back to work.”
I took the money and watched her walk away, hoping above hope that her life would be better. Surprised as ever that somewhere, somehow, part of me still had a conscience however small it was getting, selling this stuff on the market, making a living playing with truths. But then those half- truths and lies also paid bills. Let people believe what they wanted. Who was I to tell them? Best leave it to those smart fellows the Liberal Democrats. They’re far better liars than me.
The trick is to have all the ordinary pieces out on the stall and the real stuff, much prized by the healing fraternity and all other forms of acolytes, hidden away and only brought out on special occasions. All the pebbles cost ten pence or so to buy including the precious stuff. The wholesalers can’t be bothered to sort it. Selling it is a different story altogether. I’ll sell you a plain piece for just a quid. Sometimes I even give it away if I’m in a good mood. It makes me look generous and often leads to other sales. The real bloodstone, and I always say ‘real’ with a very special, almost holy kind of voice, is only for those special people who have trouble in their lives. People who really need it!
Real bloodstone you see is for people whose lives are in chaos. Who experience turbulence and troubles in their daily lives and relationships. And why is this? It’s because they lack balance! In the litany and theory of crystal healing and therapy there are two halves of the human psyche, the Yin and the Yang. Don’t ask me what it is. I don’t want to know! It’s all tied up with oriental, probably Chinese or Korean medical psychic quackery but to large numbers of impressionable people who’ve heard the phrase and can’t make heads or tails of it anyway, it’s the dogs bollocks! If they have personal, usually emotional troubles in their behaviour or relationships with other people it’s because the two sides, the Yin and the Yang in their psyche are out of balance and it is bloodstone that performs the wonder of restoring that balance, giving them a better, more relaxed life of harmony and equanimity. A kind of psychic returning.
The healing fraternity made of up hard core adepts and countless followers really believe in it all so when one of their number come to the stall looking troubled and you talk about balance, casually throwing out the hallowed words of yin and yang there’s a sudden deep hush because they’re instantly all ears. Ready to be sold the real thing. Naturally at a real price!
It was a week or so back on a Monday when I found myself particularly possessed by the black art of selling! The morning had been sunny and warm with the light all radiant along the stalls. The market was busy but I wasn’t doing so good. Around midday I noticed a tall stately looking woman heading my way. Early forties I guessed with worry all over her face. She caught sight of the gem trees and was about to turn away when I cut in on her thoughts. “I’m sorry you’re having so much trouble at home with your husband,” I ventured. “I’m sure he still loves you, even though you’re giving him such a hard time.”
She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at me with astonishment. “How could you possibly have known that?” she said strongly. “It’s true then,” I replied.
She still couldn’t believe it. It was impossible for me to have known.
“The turbulence people have in their lives, in their psyche,” I added, using the special spiritual word, “spills out all over the place. You’re not the only person to suffer a lack of balance with the yin and the yang out of alignment. It comes out in all these emotional problems you’re having.”
She caught on immediately. She must have somehow heard the magic words and phrases before. The yin and the yang being out of alignment… creating the lack of balance. That was the cause of all her trouble at home. Her lack of emotional balance… the two halves of her psyche being out of joint.
Christ sakes, the poor woman I thought. She was only going through the menopause and suffering hormonal problems that all women experience but who was I to tell her? If her doctor hadn’t done anything to help her why me? I was only a market trader. And yet… What if I could really do anything to help her? To make her believe in something. In herself… Maybe it might just help at home.
“What you need is bloodstone,” I suggested. “There’s lots of it here on the stall,” I said pointing to the pebbles. “It’s healing. Restores balance between the yin and the yang. Here, have a piece on me.”
I picked up a large pebble and put it in her hand. “I hope it works. If not you can always come back and feel a piece of the real bloodstone.”
“The real bloodstone,” she said, echoing my words. “Yes, I said sagely. The real bloodstone is very special. Only comes from one place I know in the world.”
She was intrigued. “What makes it different?”
I had the answer all ready. “The pebbles are spattered with red. Like little blotches and spots. Makes it look a bit like blood. They’re the ones used by the healers.”
“Do they really work?” she wanted to know. Did I believe in them the question came straight.
I replied just as straight. I just didn’t know. “I suppose if you really believe in a thing then it will work for you. But you’ve really got to believe. It all comes down to a matter of faith.
There it was in a nutshell. Crystal healing… the new religion. Science eat your heart out!
I wasn’t volunteering to show her any of my specials. I wanted her to ask and she did. Out from under the table came another one of my baskets. Half a dozen beautiful pebbles all looking spattered with blood. She picked up the best, full of deep crimson blotches. “How much?” she wanted to know.
I wanted to say take it, it’s free, but make a donation to the Prince of Wales Trust, only I was just a poor market trader and she could have been the wife of a banker.
I looked at her and felt a deep kind of pity. More a compassion than anything. I really wanted her husband to be kind to her. To be understanding the way that men should if they feel love. But then the pebble was beautiful. Maybe its plain beauty would help. Give her some understanding.
“Twenty pounds,” I said firmly. “It’s the best that I’ve got and I think it might help.”
She took a note out of her wallet. “That’s for your kindness,” she said quickly looking at her watch. “I only popped out during my lunch break. Got to get back to work.”
I took the money and watched her walk away, hoping above hope that her life would be better. Surprised as ever that somewhere, somehow, part of me still had a conscience however small it was getting, selling this stuff on the market, making a living playing with truths. But then those half- truths and lies also paid bills. Let people believe what they wanted. Who was I to tell them? Best leave it to those smart fellows the Liberal Democrats. They’re far better liars than me.
