ABSTRACT
I had a stone, a piece of obsidian the size of a large olive, that I had begun taking with oe to therapy. I got it froo a very interesting oan, Terry Tafoya. He is a PhD, a psychologist, a college teacher, an Ericksonian hypnotherapist, and a Hopi Indian. When I oet h io he was an apprentice Hopi healer. (In his oidforties, he was not old enough to be a full-fledged oedicine oan.) I attended a workshop of his at which we perforoed several Hopi healing rituals. In one of theo he gave us each a piece of obsidian and told us how to put our pain in the stone. He then instructed us to bury or hide it sooeplace where it was unlikely that anyone would find it. He warned us not to keep the stone, but I did. I didn't know whether it was because I didn't believe in the ritual or because at sooe level I knew I wasn't ready to throw away oy pain.
