THE MESSAGE
by Leon Berger
It was precisely one year ago, exactly this very same hour that I saw an ad in Fortune Magazine that changed my life. The advertisement was cryptic and seemed silly so I ignored it and turned the page. Or at least I tried to ignore it until curiousity drew me back to the ad. The precise wording of the ad went like this: ´To the individual with curiousity:You can perform a ritual in your home that will clarify your thoughts and direct you to the pathway of solution. No obligation. One time communication only. Write “Physio”,
P.O. Box 880093, Boca Raton, Florida
33488
The wording of the letter and the promise “…of solution” were a turn-off. While I was curious, I had better things to do than to check this out. Despite my preoccupation with other matters, the advertisement kept intruding into my thoughts. Awake or asleep, I kept seeing the ad; while having dinner with my friends or working on my novel or even relaxing witth a drink, my thoughts were about the ad.
I could not resist any longer and decided to investigate the unusual message. Fixated with a growing curiosity, I wrote requesting more information. Eighteen days later I received a reply. In my mailbox was an envelope without any postage affixed and no return address. The envelope and the message was handwritten, each letter, each word clearly defined and strikingly beautiful. I still have the letter for it is the only evidence I have of my experience, and I quote the unusual message verbatim: “The area of your home that contains an oblong, hollowed-out receptacle which receives heated fluid from an overhead construction is surrounded on three sides by a yellow flowered movable drape. Replace this screen with one of all white substance and comply with the following directive:
“Disrobe completely and enter the hollowed-out receptacle, placing a rubber insulation pad under both extremities. Open the valve that controls the flow of the fluid and adjust the temperature so that it coincides with your internal structural temperature. “Direct this flow to the encasement that houses your control mechanism. Secure the white drape so that you will be confined and isolated in the enclosure and as the vapor surround you, close your viewing ports and consider your dilemma. The solution will be provided.” It was signed “Physio.” The terminology used was weird and obviously, somebody was playing a joke on me. I was puzzled, because I didn’t tell anybody I was going to answer Physio’s ad and yet the writer knew that the shower curtain in my home was indeed a yellow, flowered plastic. I checked the
Boca Raton phone book. Nothing under “Physio.” I tried writing to Physio at the address I had, but this only compounded my puzzlement for my letter was returned, marked “Undeliverable…no such address.” I checked my copy of Fortune Magazine, looking for the ad. I was sure it was in the July l998 issue, but perhaps I was wrong because I couldn’t find the ad. I contacted the people at Fortune Magazine who tried to be helpful but they required more specific information before they could help me. I decided not to waste any more of my time on ‘Physio’, and resumed my efforts to earn a living, but no matter what I did, the letter intruded upon my thoughts. With nothing to lose and on a sudden whim, I decided to go along with Physio’s instructions, and purchased a white shower curtain and rubber bath mat.
I am a writer currently experiencing ‘writer’s bloc.’ My ‘dilemma’ was that I had created a particularly thorny, threatening situation for my fictional hero and could not logically extricate him. I was stymied to a point of desperation. Feeling foolish as I disrobed, I carefully stepped into the shower, standing squarely on the bath mat and made some minor adjustment to the temperature of the water. The light reflecting off the white curtain was blinding, forcing me to close my eyes, and as I stood there with the water cascading off the back of my neck, a languid feeling of isolation engulfed me. I felt insulated from all external stimuli as I visualized my literary dilemma. Amazingly, a flow of ideas penetrated my consciousness, simplistic but practical. The solution, which now seemed so obvious, was unique and clever. Was this a coincidence? Were there physiological benefits from the hot water increasing circulation to my brain? Was it my focus of concentration? Had Physio created some self-hypnotic technique that stimulated creativity? Happily, I opted in favor of Physio’s mystical message, gaining confidence as I explored new literary vistas. My days and nights are filled with feverish writing, relying on Physio for ideas and energy. I am hollow-eyed from lack of sleep; I am emaciated for I have no appetite. I have secluded myself from my friends. I create and write day and night. I shower frequently, asking the same question that remains unanswered: “Should I…must I share this secret of my increased productivity?”
I am loathe to do so even though my instincts tell me until I do I will have no peace. I am prepared to pay the price, any price, for writing is now my number one passion.
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