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Shaving pubic hair is a practice that has been adapted among many cultures. Pubic shaving is considered a necessity by some in order to keep good hygiene. In other cultures, genital shaving is also considered a way to attract the opposite sex. Considering the best method and what to prevent when shaving your pubic hair will help you to have the best results for keeping good hygiene and remaining attractive towards your partner.
There are a variety of tools that can be used in order to shave pubic hair. The first way is to use a hand held shaver. If you decide to use this, you will need to make sure that you shave your pubic hair every few days, because of how close it gets to the skin. You can also consider a straight razor, safety razor, or electric razor. All of these are considered safe and effective when shaving pubic hair. It is known that the best way to shave the penis area is to use an electric razor, as this will provide more control and prevent cuts. There are also shavers made with special razors for shaving the genital area.
Pubic shaving can be done in a variety of areas to help with a cleaner look. The pubic mound, penis and scrotum are the three main areas that are focused on. When shaving the pubic mound, you will want to make sure that you are shaving in the same direction that the pubic hairs are growing. If you don’t, it will cause irritation. Shaving the penis also has this same rule that applies to it. It is also known that pulling the penis upwards will help with a better and closer shave. When you are shaving the scrotum, you will want to make sure that you first stretch and flatten the skin. One of the important things to remember is that all three of these areas is sensitive, meaning you should not apply too much pressure when shaving.
Before you begin shaving any of these areas, you will want to trim down longer hairs. This will make the process easier and will allow you to get a closer cut to the skin. You will also want to make sure that your pubic hair is wet or has a shaving lubricant on it. This relaxes the skin as well as softens the hair, making it easier to shave. In places such as the scrotum, you will need to use a mirror in order to make sure that you are shaving all of the pubic hair. After you have shaved, make sure to get all of the loose hairs off and rinse off the lubricant or lotion from your genitals in order to prevent irritation. Following this process will help to avoid complications when shaving pubic hair.
While genital shaving with these razors are known to be safe, some will also cause side effects. One of the problems that may happen with pubic shaving is irritation from the skin, known as razor bumps. These will usually disappear after a couple of days and only cause slight irritation. Another problem that may occur is hair getting locked underneath the skin area. This, as well, will cause irritation, but should move back to normal placement after a couple of days. These will usually be prevented if you are shaving the same way that your pubic hair is growing. If you are beginning pubic shaving, you can expect that the hair will become itchy and irritable when it begins to grow back. However, the longer you shave, the less this will happen.
When shaving the penis and pubic hair area, there are also certain precautions that you will want to take. Making sure that the razor is not dull will help to reduce problems with things such as razor bumps and cuts. Even with a sharper razor, make sure that you are careful around the penis area. One of the things that you will want to prevent after shaving is applying certain types of lotions and creams. Because of the sensitivity of the genital area, this can cause irritation. While you should use a lubricant to help during shaving, this should also be looked into to make sure that you won’t have any side effects from skin irritation later.
Making sure that you shave with the right tools and follow the best procedure will prevent irritation, as well as other problems when shaving the genital area. Pubic shaving can then become a favored way to remain attractive towards your partner as well as help with hygiene.
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"My girlfriend dumped me because she says I 'wasn't there' when we made love. She's not the first to say this. I know something's wrong. Can hypnotherapy help me?"
Your sexual dysfunction means you engage in sex more as an observer than as a participant.
You hold yourself back from entering a trance state; you have difficulty "letting go."
There are several ways in which a qualified hypnotherapist can help you to conquer this problem. Before using hypnosis it is essential that you receive competent medical advice.
Hypnotherapy will have a particular focus depending on whether the problem is organic or psychological.
Organic sexual problems require medical intervention. Hypnotherapy may be used as an adjunct, for instance, in helping you to heal faster after an operation.
More frequently, sexual difficulties treated by a hypnotherapist concern psychological issues.
Since the process deals with your mind all sexual activity during hypnotherapy takes place only in your imagination.
What you learn through hypnotherapy is practiced privately elsewhere.
Hypnotherapy may be used to heighten your sensual involvement and to help you to be fully present while engaging in sex.
A common, effective use of hypnotherapy is to lower your anxiety.
The anticipation of failure (particularly for men anxious about their ability to have or to maintain an erection) brings on anxious feelings.
These in turn bring about the failure. Hypnotherapy ends this vicious circle and replaces the anticipation of failure with the certainty of success and confidence.
Traditional sex therapy methods are more readily accepted by you when in hypnosis because the conscious, judgmental, analytical part of your mind is temporarily set aside.
Your subconscious then absorbs the new, positive messages you've asked the hypnotherapist to create.
Precisely because hypnosis taps into the autonomic nervous system, a person can use it to improve or alter functions that normally happen without conscious control, e.g., a man's erection.
Charles, a 27-years-old former sailor and currently an electrician, consulted a hypnotherapist because he was too fearful to have sex with his wife.
They'd been married three years and had had sexual difficulties since the birth of their daughter eight months previously. Charles was afraid he'd been embarrassed once again if he tried to make love.
"Kim laughed at me the first time and now she just gives me a look of disgust." Why? Because he couldn't maintain an erection.
Charles felt humiliated and frustrated; he worried that he'd never again have satisfactory sex with his wife. His dream of fathering a son seemed unattainable.
He told the hypnotherapist that he had no problem masturbating when alone. This was a likely indicator that Charles' problem was psychological, not organic.
As was Charles' report that he always had a firm erection when having sex with the occasional housewife in whose home he was doing electrical work.
To be on the safe side, the hypnotherapist advised Charles to be examined by a medical specialist to be absolutely sure there was no organic cause for his ED.
The doctor confirmed that Charles' trouble was "100 per cent psychogenic," meaning that for some emotional or psychological reason, he could not maintain an erection.
Of course, the more Charles tried, and the more he worried, the more flaccid was his penis.
The hypnotherapist explained to Charles that hypnosis could be used to uncover the cause of his trouble, or to tackle the symptom, or both.
Charles, being the impatient type, and of course eager to end his humiliating experiences, opted for the "quick fix."
Over the course of three sessions of hypnotherapy, Charles relived successful love-making episodes from his younger years as a Navy "stud."
Then the therapist used a melding technique to encourage Charles to see himself (in his imagination, while hypnotized) from now on once again enjoying a full, firm erection well beyond the time needed to satisfy his partner.
Positive suggestions were also made by the hypnotherapist to Charles about his prowess, his confidence and his desirability to his wife.
For three months Charles and Kim had a wonderful sex life. Then he lost an erection just as foreplay had become hot and heavy.
Kim, hurt and disappointed, reacted with sarcasm. All Charles' fears and anxieties rushed back. He returned to the hypnotherapist.
This time Charles agreed to investigate the cause of his impotence.
The hypnotherapist used various approaches -- age regression, age progression (in which the "future" Charles was to explain how he'd conquered the problem) analogue symbolic imagery -- but nothing worked.
In a subsequent session, with Charles relaxed in hypnosis, the therapist told Charles he'd have a dream. His subconscious would provide this dream as a way, either directly or symbolically, to explain the origin of his impotence.
Three nights later Charles dreamed he was outside a factory. It was night time and the factory loomed dark and mysterious.
Charles felt a strong urge to scale the steel fence that surrounded the factory. Then he tried to find away in. All the doors were shut and padlocked. A security guard ("very scary, because he had my face," said Charles) told him to go away.
But Charles persisted in his eagerness to enter the factory. He ran from the guard, to the back of the building. Here was the loading dock. Charles saw a bulldozer there. He jumped into its cab and began to operate the controls.
The guard reappeared, feebly told Charles to get off the property, to go to his own place. In the distance, Charles could see a stately castle which he somehow knew belonged to him.
But his only interest was in the dark factory. The guard shrugged. Charles started up the bulldozer and charged the heavy machine toward the small back door of the factory.
As the bulldozer began to rumble forward, Charles awoke -- with a massive erection.
The dream puzzled Charles. But it enlightened the therapist. To him it revealed that Charles was in the grip of the Madonna/Whore complex.
This is the attitude that divides women into "good" and "bad." Thus, a man's wife and especially mother, are "good." Prostitutes, other men's wives and and women of ethnic groups other than the man's own, are "bad."
"Bad" women are exciting; "good" women are boring. Sex is forbidden with "good" women but possible with the "bad."
A man with this complex may have sex with his wife occasionally, or until she becomes a mother, or while a post-hypnotic suggestion lasts. But his heart is not in it. Neither is his penis.
However, with a "bad" woman he has no commitment, no respect. She is there to be used.
His conscience (the security guard) barely bothers him about penetrating the stranger (the dark factory) but, perversely, does prevent him enjoying "his" woman (the castle).
When Charles heard this explanation, he nodded in agreement. This was indeed his view. And that of his father, uncle and most of his friends. He had no serious interest in changing this outlook, especially since Kim had announced she was pregnant. The hypnotherapist's suggestion that Charles and Kim seek marriage counselling fell on deaf ears.
A lawyer we shall call Mathilde did seek help from a psychotherapist. She had told the referring doctor that she rarely had an orgasm. The truth was that Mathilde never had an orgasm -- with her husband.
She'd been faking it for years. But she had climaxed with previous boyfriends. Also during a two-night stand a few months ago.
Mathilde had been a speaker at a lawyers' convention a thousand miles from home. There she met Roger, a brooding electrical engineer who had been trouble-shooting the hotel's elevators.
"He was not particularly good-looking but he had these soft grey eyes," Mathilde confided to the therapist. She smiled. "He was brutal in bed."
Mathilde was mildly surprised to find herself telling the male therapist details she had not felt comfortable confiding to her female doctor.
There was no question of her wanting to leave the marriage. She loved her husband, had a marvellous life. All that was missing ws the joy of orgasm. It was something she yearned for.
Until she met Roger the lack of orgasms with her husband had not bothered her much. Mathilde had become used to pretending -- and to satisfying herself in secret.
The therapist faced two dilemmas:
i) perhaps, despite Mathilde's conscious denials, there was some problem between her and her husband
ii) the therapist usually worked with couples, not individuals, on such sexual challenges.
He decided that, given the husband was not present and would be unlikely to come to future sessions, he would work with Mathilde, and he would use hypnotherapy. If the outcome was successful, there would be no need to explore possible conflicts between husband and wife.
First the therapist explained a little about hypnosis and how it could help Mathilde. Her first session was devoted to her simply relaxing into hypnosis, and becoming familiar with how safe and peaceful it felt.
In Mathilde's second and third sessions of hypnosis the therapist suggested Mathilde silently relive an earlier experience of orgasm.
In her mind she was to take particular note of the physical and emotional feelings which allowed her to climax.
When the orgasm in her imagination was over she would open her eyes, though remain in hypnosis.
Then the therapist pointed out, and Mathilde confirmed, that she had been internally very relaxed just prior to making love. And that during foreplay and intercourse, she became "lost" in the pleasure.
The therapist asked Mathilde to again close her eyes and this time to imagine herself in bed with her husband. Again she could relive the details silently, no need to tell the therapist anything, except when the imagined lovemaking was over.
When Mathilde compared the earlier experience with how she felt when making love with her husband she immediately noticed her tension.
"I am not relaxed and I don't get lost in the act." Sometimes she thought about cases she was working on and at other times she focused on making sure her husband was satisfied.
In the next part of the session the therapist first gave Mathilde suggestions that she could allow herself to relax with her husband, that she could allow herself to climax with him.
The therapist again waited silently while Mathilde played the scene through in her mind.
When she signalled (with a broad smile) that the scene had reached a successful end, the therapist closed the session with positive suggestions about Mathilde allowing herself to be relaxed, focused on pleasure and allowed to climax when making love with her husband.
And so it was.
* * *
Hypnotherapy has also been used successfully to overcome other sexual problems such as overlubrication, exhibitionism, and to uncover the reason a client became a transvestite.
Before seeking help with a sexual difficulty it is important to be sure it really is a problem. For example, a man may go to a therapist because he believes he suffers from premature ejaculation. But if the man is married to a woman who dislikes sex, indeed "wants it over with as soon as possible," that's exactly what is happening, so where's the problem?
Twenty-five years old Eugene's problem was real enough: he could not become erect. A handsome, single, bus driver, Eugene had had several medical examinations; all the doctors had concluded there was no medical cause for his impotence.
At first, hypnotherapy did not help Eugene. He became more and more despondent about his failure, scared to date and unable to sleep at night.
The hypnotherapist had used approaches one or more of which usually resolve psychogenic impotence:
> positive suggestions
> aversive therapy
> satisfying imagery
> arm rigidity
But nothing worked.
The hypnotherapist finally decided to enlist the guidance of Eugene's subsconscious through finger signalling and direct relay of images in response to questions.
(With finger signalling -- also known as an ideodynamic technique -- a hypnotized person allows the subconscious to answer questions with predesignated fingers that represent "Yes," "No," "Don't Know," and "Not yet ready to answer").
This approach proved fruitful, although at first puzzling.
Hypnotherapist: "I'm going to ask your subconscious some questions. There's no need for you to think about the questions or the answers. Simply allow your subconscious to respond through the fingers it has selected.
You will probably feel a tingling begin in the finger that the subsconscious selects. Then it will lift as though of its own accord.
Now, I'd like to ask your subconscious if there is a purpose served by Eugene's impotence?"
[This question is often answered "yes" and subsequently leads to an explanation such as a desire to punish self or partner for some reason].
[Fimger responses are indicated with ( )].
Eugene: (No).
H: "Does the cause of the problem lie in Eugene's past?"
E: (Yes).
[This response steered the hypnotherapist along the wrong path. He took no account of the literalness with which the subconscious absorbs information. Consequently, the hypnotherapist understood the "Yes" response to mean that there was a specific event, a trauma or a message, that began Eugene's impotence. As was later revealed, the "cause in the past" referred, not to a particular event, but to an ongoing process.]
H: "Did the cause happen before Eugene was 20?"
E: (Yes).
H: "Did the cause happen before Eugene was 15?"
E: (Yes).
H: "Before 10?"
E: (No).
[Now the hypnotherapist, who erroneously assumes some single event happened, switches from finger responses to image responses].
H: "Okay. I'm going to ask the subconscious to present to your mind an image that is somehow connected to the problem we're dealing with."
E: "I'm in a shop. I don't know how old I am but a man picks me up. I'm very scared. He holds me to him. Someone else comes in and tells the man to put me down."
[The hypnotherapist thinks that it is possible something happened in the shop to subsequently cause Eugene to become impotent. However, further questioning reveals that Eugene sees little more than he has already reported. There appears to be no abuse, no negative messages (such as "You'll never be a man.")
The session is drawing to a close so the therapist reverts to ideomatic questioning. He decided to check the medical verdicts].
H: "Does the problem have any medical basis to it?"
E: [Long pause]. (No).
H: "Is there something physical that would help?"
E: (No).
H: "Is there something missing in Eugene's diet, or something he should not be eating or drinking?"
E: (Don't know/don't want to answer yet).
[Eugene snaps out of hypnosis, much to his own surprise. In previous sessions for other problems Eugene had enjoyed hypnosis so much he had been reluctant to emerge. He puts himself back into hypnosis].
H: "Okay. Our time is nearly up. I want to thank your subconscious for its help. I'm now asking it to provide you with a dream that will give you a strong indication on how to solve the problem that brought you here."
[Eugene once again snaps out of hypnosis].
H: "Wow. We're clearly close to something significant, otherwise you wouldn't come out so suddenly."
E: "I don't understand why. But while you were talking about me having a dream something floated into my mind: smoking."
H: [Incredulous]. "You smoke!"
E: "Yes, a lot."
H: "There you are. That's what your subconscious was telling us: the cause of your impotence is smoking! Have you stopped before?"
E: "Yes. For a while."
H: "And did you have erections okay then?"
E: [Thinks back]. "Yes, I did. I did."
[And the shop? Why did the subconscious throw that memory into Eugene's mind? Perhaps because the shop sold cigarettes.]
Copyright (c) 2005 Bryan M. Knight
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The Stone-Builders [By their Weapons]
[Big-chest was a reluctant hero, for the most part, that is, in killing the Stone-Builders; yet when he could, he did so of course, --but I say reluctant I suppose with reluctance; for it was not unlike everyone at this time to be disinclined to kill them, they seemed to be in the vein of the gods, un-killable: yet he killed them and fought them, more so than anyone else—less out of conviction than out of desire to avoid dishonor and social embarrassment for himself.]
Said I [I, being: Short-legs], I had seen one time Big-chest walk into a campsite of theirs, the Stone-Builders that is, —I tried to tell this story to my brother, Stern-toes, once, but I never could explain it right, but I think he got the jest of it, if not the seriousness, we did both laugh at the Stone-Builders for hours on end, afterwards. As I was about to say, myself and Little-eyes witnessed this whole happening from a distance of course. The Stone-Builders were full of what they called: ‘wone, or wine,’ something along that order, some sounds take me back a bit, they had new sounds all the time, yes O yes, inventing new sounds like the growing of leafs on a tree, coming into our brains like new winds, dragging it into a mode of thinking more everyday, instead of being fond of the birds, and just living: eating, sleeping and dying—these words we never heard of before were floating everywhere in the air, ever since that is, the arrival of the Stone-Builders on the scene: before this, before Eve walked out of that Garden, things were dangerous, but much more quiet.
Well, Big-chest, noticed one evening—not being too far in the thick of the foliage by their campsite [the Stone-Builders site]—they had killed a man-eater [lion]; there were four of them, called ‘soldiers,’ at the campfire-site, a resting place to them: just laughing, and drinking, and being playful like a group of little cubs: lion cubs—wild and whimpering [whiny] lion-cubs, that is exactly what they were like. I could see Big-chest laughing to himself—inside that big muscular oversized chest: as he watched them wrestle around with one another, actually they did get a little over physical with one another, like the wild boars whom would chase after one of us, wanting to eat us for a feast, and then they’d settle down again. It was a cold winter’s night that day, so there was a real chill in the air, and not all that much leafy undergrowth for us to hide or for that matter to slap the chill away: nor for that matter Big-chest: although he had a coat of hair all over him to keep him warm anyways—showed a bit of chill in his face also. Although—I was grateful for the few large trees with the plant-life tucked around me, it absorbed some of the wind—the brisk, cold winds seeping by us, around us, and almost through us: the shrubbery covered us, as we remained in the distant woods, with a pile of leaves up to our knees: leaves for warmth and camouflage, --camouflage being a plan incase we figured we’d have to duck, hide ourselves-quickly should they get the best of Big-chest, but we doubted that: Big-chest was just the opposite of us----mean,--plus
as always, Big-chest was confident of his abilities, he stood in the woods, no shadow—not sure what he did with it, but he was cleaver; just a big blob of muscle, hair and sharp eyes, small squinty eyes pinned on the four Stone-Builders, at the camp site, and their man-eater, that was going to be his dinner. He was actually blocking our vision a bit, but I think he did that because he wanted to show his audience—which was us—who was the braver. I actually had some kind of a feeling for those men who were about the meet Big-chest, a gloomy feeling at best, and a thankful feeling: thankful, it was not us in their place; yet both I and Little-eyes, both surely held feelings of revenge for the Stone-Builders, and this was kind of a good time for the revenge to seep out, but I don’t care for revenge for the most part, not really, it takes too much energy, saps you—in review, all was quite mysterious to me.
Then unsuspected, he walked into the camp, tall as a mountain, hairy as a leafy think forest, long, a very long mouth from ear to ear, his teeth showed—he walked reminiscent of the king of the Stone-Builders [I think he was mimicking him—he like to do such things], he must have seen him walk, for he was arched just like their king, head back, eyes slanting down as if they were subordinates; --among the four he crept up, not a word, not a sound, the dark-dragging behind him, the sky had very little light given by the stars, but it followed him overhead none the less, a cloud covered the moon—as if he and Big-chest were pals; now he had seen their weapons by the fire, where the dead lion lay, if anything, Big-chest was shifty: sly, observant: he was swaying his body akin to the huge trees in a storm, not sure exactly why, but I think it got his blood moving and his limbs more flexible for swinging when he used them for clubs—and it made for a good showing: his hands were as big as large branches of a tree: and as hard. Closer and closer he came to the fire, no one noticed him yet, can’t figure it out, no one, no one at all, --could they not hear him a little, just a tiny bit, I asked myself, for both myself and Little-eyes could hear his foot steps even in the woods, at twice their distance, I was about to learn we had better hearing than these new creatures. But then this new breed of course, can not have all the advantages, thank goodness, thus, our senses were better, we were tuned higher one might say, and they were tuned with more and a higher intelligence than we.
His fingers now, almost touching the ground—I could see—he, he had long thick arms, and fingers, and perturbing muscles, he was impressive to look at, huge to digest with your eyes, and frightening if you did not see him on a daily bases, and dangerous to be around, at any time. Then all of a sudden two of the four turned their necks to see what was in back of them; not sure if they heard him, sensed him, or just did out of an automatic military checking ritual,--whereupon, they almost went into shock: two stood up, all four were some fifteen feet from their weapons. The two who were squatting, the closest to the fire, were in a panic, the other two were a little farther away, standing now, unsure, thinking. I think one was releasing himself; he made a puddle and was trying to cover it up by kicking dirt, how modest. I figured why waste your time, this was precious time, run, run, run: that is what I’d do, but I really was hoping they’d not run, I must have an evil side in me also, just like them; you know, they got this pride thing, and I was hoping they would stay with this pride and arrogance, and then as I stopped thinking for a moment, Big-chest knock it out of them, if that is, they had any pride left. I think I was starting to get like them, that being: aggressive thoughts.
In any case, Big-chest took his right hand swung it backwards to build up momentum, and with the force of a giant tree, hit the head of one of the squatters as he was about to stand up, it sounded faintly similar to thunder, and I could hear it snap, and rip, similar to a timber falling after lightening strikes it, strikes a tree out of its roots, its stretching roots out of the ground. He fell on his chest, then pushing himself, flopped over and onto his shoulder as if it had nothing holding his head in place, like a dead fish flopping, jumping in a creek—he lost his inner breath. The other one tried to get to his weapon, but Big-chest, akin to lightening, jumped with one leap over to him, picked him up by one leg, his penis showing, as Big-chest looked strangely at it, as if to laugh at a small ugly worm, for they all liked covering them up for some odd reason, and Big-chest now must have figured out, he knew why. And we both in the bushes started to giggle, snicker, laughing at the sight—I wanted to say laugh again—but we had to hold our laughing inside our stomachs for a while, so as not to spoil his feat. Then after our expressions of amusement, a stern grin appeared on Big-chest’s face—I think he heard us—in any case, he tossed him into the fire when he got bored looking at him, after twisting him about for a few seconds, breaking his leg in several places I imagine, for I kept hearing crunches, as if bones were cracking, and then there was his screams.
Then one of the two standing routed himself through the woods yelling something on the order of: “Hhhhh eel pppp...!” Not sure what that meant. The last one, I call him the brave one, or definitely I could call him the stupid one, or should I say foolish one, none-the-less, he pulled out a sharp object, about the length of his hand, and stood in front of Big-chest as if he was going to fight him. At this point I said, and Little-eyes thought: this was the end for him; he [the soldier] looked like a banana compared to Big-chest. I asked myself, ‘Is he crazy? Run, and run while you can,’ and I was on Big-chest’s side now, more than ever, but it didn’t sound like it for that split-moment, but I felt it was a little unfair, size and all. But the man, whom I am calling a brave-soldier, stood his ground, and actually looked at Big-chest in the eyes. My-gosh, the man must have been half his size, about 175 pounds, quick on his feet though, for he was dancing around Big-chest, trying to stab him, and poke him. He looked more like a bee trying to sting someone, but that just irritated him more. Big-chest had taken arrows out of himself one-hundred times before, I bet; arrows deeper than that knife would have ever penetrate, if the person had gotten a chance to lunge it into Big-chest, and he didn’t get that chance: and it never hurt him much: those pokes. These little wounds were nothing, --but should he leap and get a good stab possible in the upper chest of Big-chest, or eye, then I’d worry.
To make a long story short: Big-chest just looked dumfounded at the figure in front of him dancing in a circle, and didn’t move very much, except around; I’ve seen Little-eyes close his eye-lids now, he knew, he knew what was about to happen, and with his waving quick long arms, Big-chest picked up the seven foot lionesses, and put it over his shoulder, the crazy Stone-Builder charged at him, and Big-chest with a quick sweep, with a turn, knocked the man flat on his back, onto the ground, he had hit him with the man-eater, as he balanced it over his shoulder. Then, somewhat, disparate, or so it seemed, reminiscent of a dying fish jumping about trying to get back into the water—he: Big-chest—kicked him in the mid-section of his belly, sweeping him into the fire like trash, now almost a dead fish. The Soldier could not move, he surely had a broken spine I thought, had he not, he would had gotten up and run fast out of the fire, and he didn’t: or couldn’t, for Big-chest couldn’t run with the man-eater on his shoulder so it was a good time to escape, if he could. But he didn’t, or couldn’t, nor do I think he intended to. But again, the man tried to move out of the fire with no suitable means other than his arms which were now on fire, for surely his ribs and legs were broken. Big-chest simply turned away from him as if he was insignificant, as I did myself. The defeat was predictable, and most unnecessary. I got thinking: what kind of creature fights when they cannot compete. It has always been the law of the land—to run, unless cornered: hence, when you can’t battle, don’t. It wasn’t necessary to die like that. I was learning about pride and arrogance quickly from these new creatures though; all in time and observation I told myself, and I’d be well informed on their unusual habits.
11
Early winter
We had no way of knowing which winter would be good to us or bad for us, and winter this particular winter had come early, and therefore our food supply was exhausted, depleted that is, rather quickly. When Little-eyes and I returned back to the cave the following evening, we had told in our symbolic way: expressed at the Banana Cave that is, to the entire Horde how Big-chest had killed the Eve People. And you could hear the laughter for miles around. I tried to explain how Big-chest had seen or sensed their movements, their evil objective, and their killing intent: as he always seemed to be able to sense survival quite well; he had a special quality of seeing through a person to his evil side, as he could see through us, thus, he could see through the Stone-People as well. I explained how one of the men stayed to fight him, trying to outstare Big-chest, and got kicked into the fire, and died. They all shook their heads in wonderment, we were not the smartest of the inhabitants of earth, but that was sure dumb we all thought, no vocal language was needed for that understanding or response. I think Big-chest had taken his trophy to his cave in our area, and was having a formal meal at this time. We liked anyone who could out smart the Stone-People I suppose, they were smug and we were helpless to them most of the time; they had well groomed weapons, and we had simply rocks and some clubs, along with a few sharpened stones, as they now were being called, knifes, up to the appearance of the Stone-People, they were just tools. And so it felt good if anything, good to see the odds turn for once, and to be frank, they didn’t turn much, if ever in our favor after that episode. But our surprise would come in the morning: --yes, we would not be forgotten for once.
Morning
In the morning when several of us looked out of our cave entrances, in the center of the canyon below our cliff dwellings, as we often did to be sure we were safe from man or beast, in the open area in the valley below us, we saw half a lion torn open, lying in the center of our domain, for us, it was a treasure, a gift, a donation if anything, and all of us quickly ran to eat what meat Big-chest had left for us. Big-chest was not always so generous, or kind, but for some odd reason, he knew we were starving for some protean, and our bodies were starting to show our ribs. Aimless to say, this never happened again—not in such a quantity, but we all gave Big-chest a super big smile as we walked proudly out of our canyon-caves and ate the raw meat [for he appeared standing erect by a cave entrance observing the feast he provide]; yes, some of us even were tarring at the red meat, animal protein, liken to wolfs.
12
The Hermit by the Sea
It was a short period of time from when Big-chest appropriated the lion [took it from the Stone-Builders] and we all ate the meat, when I joined the Horde in the valley on a crisp morning—a morning that told me, the seasons were about to change, thus, leading into spring; I could see my breath: it was so brittle, so I knew winters end was near. There was great commotion in the valley below, as there often was when someone or something new came about to celebrate, I had noticed from my cliff dwelling a gathering of the Horde, looking down, I quickly dashed along the sides of the cliff until I reached the floor of the valley to see what it was, as did Little-eyes, as I had woke him, trying to explain a happening was taking place.
Thin-hips of the Horde [Sister to Moss]
When I reached the bottom and many of the folk were going to and fro, some with sad and hungry faces, very sad posture, I made my way through several folks now gathered around this one section of the cliff; old-Moss, the Hermit by the Sea, was laying dead, his sister, Thin-hips, was there pacing, walking back and forth, kind of chanting, humming something, sounds on top of sounds—death had waxed his face I noticed. Old Moss was the oldest folk I had ever known, ever heard of. He must have been 60 or 65 years old—I doubt Big-chest was that old. No one ever lived that long, no one that is but Moss, I suppose. You could tell by looking at him, half his death was caused by starvation, the other by his long walk back to the Valley of the Caves, the strenuous walk; a walk many took to come back when they felt their time was short on this ground, like some fish, we all seem to know our dying ground; he came from the far off place, called the Great Cliffs by the Sea. I had only seen him when I was a kid and then once or twice coming and going, within a twenty-year period. He lived in the sand hills far from the Horde as I was saying, to the extreme East, and not far from there to the south was the Great Sea and the cliffs he always told his sister about, much larger than ours, higher than ours he’d say. He add, this place was somewhere between the Sea, and the cliffs, and the strait, and this valley was a flat area, plateau, this is where he wondered off too often, or so he’d claim, upon his return. He knew my father quite well, Long-arms, and did visit him, it was always when I was gone it seemed. They appeared to get along quite well, as one might expect, two strange folks to say the least; not sure what they had in common, matter of fact, if anything, one was lazy—my father, the other, Moss, was quite active I heard.
The Great Sea
But he did bring back information to his sister, who shared it with us, and of course he’d tell other people also of his journeys, or try to describe them best he could, and we were all quite interested in his tales—it was entertainment: yes he was a man of tales, I guess in one way I admired him for that, it was almost like some of the occupations the Stone-Builders had, or called occupations, which were really doing things by order of their king and getting fed by someone else because of the king—strange. Thus, Moss was our entertainer, and Moss did get fed by most of the Horde’s residents for doing so, I think they’d call him in to their cave to hear him talk, or draw pictures, or act out his strange adventures. Half the time we never knew what he was saying, but then, so what and it was amusement. Everyone liked him, and so did I.
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Herpes lesions first appear as small red burns then mature into blisters that later become sores. After a few weeks, these sores dry up and heal without scaling.
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