My energy is light and bubbly as I briefly step into the middle of the circle to grab a large ‘teacher’ quartz crystal that seems to be calling to me. This first Friday in February feels so peaceful. The emotional roller coaster ride of my previous six days seems like a distant afterthought. The only ideas currently passing through my mind are joyful thoughts of being present for others, assisting them in their own emotional processing.
Imagine my surprise when Keith immediately focuses his magical energy in my direction.
A Crystal Presence
“Brenda,” Keith unexpectedly grabs my attention. “Stare into the crystal and connect with it. Go inside the crystal to see what you find.”
I try to stare with my physical eyes, but the visual image distracts my focus. Instead, I close my eyes and imagine myself energetically entering the crystal realm. Minutes later, I envision myself sitting on a sloped edge of smooth transparent quartz. I see nothing with my inner eyes, but intuitively feel as if the energy of the crystal is pulsing all around me.
“Go deeper.” Keith interrupts a few minutes later. “Keep talking, describing your experience – describing what is going on around you.”
An intuitive sensation guides me to feel as if I am sinking through the sloped edge of quartz – as if the once-solid base transforms into quicksand, pulling me deeper into the crystal’s mystical core.
My head is finally engulfed in the magic as the crystal seems to consume my essence. I intuitively know that I have succeeded in going down another layer.
As I quietly sit in meditation, I sense that an unknown being is nearby, sitting in the crystal with me, waiting patiently for me to connect. I feel guided to reach out with my imagination, taking the hand of this unseen-but-felt being. We both sit quietly in a cross-legged position, meditating together, not expressing a single audible word.
I don’t know why I am here. I have no idea whatsoever. I simply know that I need to sit quietly and observe.
Nightmare Projections
Suddenly, as if on cue, the focus of the group shifts away from me. A nearby gentleman starts to moan loudly as he begins to delve deeply into his own emotional pain.
Keith remains unusually silent as Ambe and Moses begin to work with this gentleman. Keeping my eyes tightly shut, I merely listen as agonizing judgments begin to swell in my heart.
First of all, this particular gentleman has been pushing my emotional buttons for a few weeks. He is deeply gifted in the energy realms, yet at times seems helplessly stuck in his left brain, trying to use his rational mind to fix himself. I struggle with the way his energy reminds me of myself. In addition, he triggers my “crybaby” energy – an energy that will not actually reveal its true nature to me for a couple more weeks.
But the immediate way that Ambe and Moses jump in to help also deeply triggers me. These emotions catch me off guard, because I had believed myself to be in complete loving harmony with Ambe and Moses’s beautiful energies.
A dominant and angry part of me wants to scream out “NOOOOoooo … quit trying to fix him … quit pushing the river by trying to psychoanalyze him … this is Keith’s porch … you are here to learn from Keith … shut up and let Keith do his job … let Keith teach you how to do this rather than trying to show Keith how you would do it.”
I am deeply distressed by the strong emotional reaction boiling inside my belly. The energy is furiously bouncing around in my solar plexus, making me extremely uncomfortable. I continue to sit in silent meditation, eyes closed, imagining myself lightly grasping the hand of the crystal being who still meditates beside me.
I am observing my worst nightmare. Everything that is taking place around me triggers intense emotions of judgment – intense projections of guilt and blame onto others.
A Horror Movie
“This is just a movie.” I feel my crystal companion intuitively guide me. “We are going to sit here and simply watch this scene together.”
I again think of the Muppet Show analogy that I shared with Conny. I desperately desire to see the situation as just a cute puppet comedy, but my heart is so agitated that everything unfolding around me instead feels as if I am watching a bloody and frightening horror movie. I don’t want to watch this anxiety-inducing movie.
Judgment and anxiousness build in my body. My heart is beating rapidly and strongly. I want to run away from the porch.
“This is Keith’s porch!” I again grumble to myself. “This is not the Ambe and Moses healing show!”
Resentment and judgment build in my body. Anxiousness and frustration increasingly consume my soul. I know this is all illusion – all in my head – all perfect – yet I do not want to be here.
The scene is agonizing. I hate this movie. The script is wrong and distorted. It should not be playing out this way.
I long to jump up and run away as the inner discomfort continues to intensify. Instead, I continue to imagine myself sitting cross-legged in a crystal, quietly observing an inner rumbling of intense emotions – emotions that feel like a massive earthquake in my soul.
“Why do you want to run away?” I sense the being ask me intuitively. “Just keep observing while trying to detach yourself from the emotions.”
I note that the distressed gentleman to my left appears to deeply appreciate the help that Ambe and Moses are providing to him. I also feel the profound and genuine love through which Ambe and Moses are operating. Yet my unexplainable agitation and judgment rage on.
Self-Flogging
As I continue to observe the movie scene gradually unfolding in front of me, tears of recognition begin to trickle down my cheeks. After what feels like a half-hour of gentle streaming, the tear floodgates open further as my emotional release becomes even more intense.
I am beginning to recognize the beautiful way in which this scene is being magically brought to my consciousness – a scene that seems to be synchronously teaching me about self-righteous judgments. I recognize that these judgments were innocently programmed into me during my childhood.
I was taught to be proud of and to honor my family name – a teaching that left me feeling slightly better than those who had a less prestigious family history.
My religious upbringing proudly proclaimed that I was part of a “righteous and chosen people” – a teaching that made me subtly believe that I was somehow special and privileged in the eyes of God.
Other teachings of my childhood taught me that I was separate from God and that I needed to respect and honor my church leaders – that I needed to trust that they were God’s representatives and were more connected to divine guidance than was I. Even though I was taught that God could speak directly to me, I also believed that guidance would never differ from that given to my superiors.
As I allow tearful contemplations to take me further down the rabbit hole, I feel my buttons being pushed with increasing intensity – triggering self-doubts, self-judgments, self-hatred that has been skillfully hiding behind a façade of strength and goodness.
I begin to carefully examine each button and trigger that passes through my awareness.
Original Sin
Finally, the painful horror movie comes to an end as Keith again returns to work with me. I fill him in about my current meditative insights – insights regarding my newly-uncovered self-judgment, self-loathing, self-resentment, and self-hatred – insights regarding the deeply-rooted programming and life-long beliefs of my overall stupidity and unworthiness.
“Where does it all stem from?” Keith innocently asks.
I want to tell Keith that my self-judgment and dysfunction originates with the transgender struggles that intensified at around age ten or eleven, yet if I am honest, I must admit that my self-flogging began much earlier than that.
Keith suggests that my self-hatred goes back to the “nail in my heart” – a metaphor that we had discovered in a previous session. Gently nudging me to come up with a term for my guilt, Keith continues to hint and prod until I blurt out the phrase “original sin”.
The concept of “original sin”, while rooted deeply in many Christian teachings, is not exactly part of the Mormon teachings of my youth. Because of this, I do not fully resonate with the phrase until Keith continues.
“Brenda,” Keith clarifies. “You feel evil for even having been born. The fact that you have not yet achieved enlightenment in previous lifetimes implies that you are still flawed, still a complete failure. That is where your self-hatred and guilt originate.”
“Wow,” I think to myself. “That statement really resonates with me. I am subconsciously judging myself and God for the fact that I am still not enlightened – that after countless lifetimes of attempting to connect with my source, I am still a failure, still abandoned.”
Pity-Party Interrupted
Already being deep in my emotions, I start to drift into the realm of self-pity and victimization. Memories of self-defeating statements begin to flood my mind – statements such as “no one will be there to help me” and “I don’t deserve help.” These are the same deeply rooted emotional patterns that I have been playing out in one way or another throughout my entire life.
Keith immediately pulls me out of that pity-party emotion, asking me, “Brenda, please remain focused on observing your judgments.”
Beyond Help
Again, my intuitions remind me that the present scene on the porch – a scene that continues to unfold across the room to my left – is a scene that has been perfectly orchestrated. The entire scenario with my crystal teacher and with Ambe and Moses helping the other gentleman has been beautifully performed – performed in a way that is now shining light on my life-long dysfunctional patterns.
In fact, everything about my life right now seems to underscore and add exclamation points to the fact that I am being deeply guided and blessed at every turn. Yes, I am receiving more guidance than I could ever have imagined, yet I still want to believe that no one is helping me, that no one can help me, that no one will ever help me. A very strong part of me demands that I believe that I am simply beyond help.
Rae to the Rescue
“There is a pile of your own judgment sitting right in front of you.” Keith begins to guide me into meditation. “Ask the light, or perhaps ask the crystal, to take and to transmute part of that judgment for you.”
I focus my mind on the assigned task, desperately trying to give the judgment to the light, yet I feel as if it is all going absolutely nowhere.
I notice a strong heavy pain that feels as if it is sitting right on top of my heart.
“What does that pain represent to you?” Keith queries after I fill him in regarding my new metaphor.
“It feels as if this pressure represents all of the self-judgment that is piled on top of my heart space. It is literally squashing my heart, restricting my capacity to love and holding me prisoner.”
“Keep up your external dialog.” Keith requests after I remain silent for a while. He feels that it is important for me to continue our journey together in a more tightly-coordinated effort.
Again, I try to visualize some of the light transmuting a small portion of this self-hatred.
“There goes some now.” Keith interjects a few seconds later.
I feel almost nothing, other than a slight sensation of energy movement and a brief feeling of lightness above my heart.
“Now, move some more.” Keith guides me.
I seem to be stuck, completely incapable of doing what Keith is asking of me. I again picture myself with a dunce cap on my head, sitting in the back corner of the class.
As Keith momentarily steps into his kitchen, Rae feels guided to come over in front of me, kneeling down on a couple of cushions still positioned at my feet.
“She is an empath.” I think quietly to myself. “She is capable of helping others move their emotional densities. Surely she will be able to help me.”
Almost immediately, I begin to literally feel the judgmental energy flowing out of my body – flowing from my chest, from my head, and through my knees where Rae’s hands are now touching me. I love the feeling and I intuitively know that a layer of emotional density is being effortlessly siphoned out of me in a way that is permanent. There is no fear. I am deeply joyful as I realize that Rae is removing only those energies which I have already felt and identified – energies that I no longer need to carry – energies that I have now sufficiently processed.
Keith soon returns and begins guiding Rae’s progress, making sure that she is not taking any of the emotional densities inside of her. In the middle of the process, I briefly mention to Keith that I am getting a headache in my forehead above my right eye. In later conversation, Rae surprises me by indicating that she had a headache in exactly the same spot, only hers had been present before coming over to work on me, and it had disappeared right before I mentioned my own headache to Keith.
“You took the headache from me.” Rae tells me with confidence.
“Could it be,” I ask myself, “that I absorbed Rae’s headache into my body while she was helping me to move my own emotional densities?”
My memory flashes to a similar experience in early December where I seemed to have absorbed someone’s scratchy throat symptoms during a Shiatsu massage.
I feel very light and happy, even with the mild headache still looming. I cannot explain what just happened, but I know with all of my heart that Rae assisted me in removing a great deal of buried emotional density – density consisting of deep painful issues that I could not move all by myself.
As I begin to rapidly feel much better, the therapeutic focus gradually shifts from me to Rae. I simply sit in silent and peaceful meditation.
“Was that my core issue?” I anxiously ask Keith as the beautiful chocolate session comes to an end.
“I don’t know,” Keith begins, “but you were definitely digging much deeper than ever before, clearing portions of some very deep stuff.”
Control Issues
“I feel like I need to get drunk.” I tell Rae as we walk home in a blissful state. “I cannot explain it, but I feel as if part of my spiritual stuck-ness is related to my fears of losing physical control. I have this strange inner guidance telling me that I need to have an experience where I at least begin to lose partial control of my body.”
The thought of losing control terrifies me – both in a physical way and apparently in a spiritual way as well. A feeling of fear parades through my body as I discuss my strange feelings with Rae.
The subject of alcohol has been one of lifelong judgment and guilt, mostly projected outward onto others. Because of my strict religious teachings, I never touched a single drop of any alcoholic beverage until I was in my mid-to-late thirties, at which time a friend convinced me to take a few sips of wine during a moment of emotional rebellion. Since then, I have learned that I simply do not like the taste of most alcohol and have no desire to acquire one.
Even though I no longer hold any judgments over alcohol or against those who drink it, I still hold a deep fear over what my family might think were they to ever find out that during the past ten years I have consumed a grand total of perhaps ten drinks while in social situations with friends. Such a revelation might break their hearts.
A part of me strongly dictates that I must face my fear of familial judgment and disappointment by actually delving a little deeper into the experience and then writing about it.
But as I walk home with Rae on this beautiful Friday evening, the fourth day of February, I have no idea just how soon I will get my wish.
A Tiny-Bit Tipsy
Within an hour, Rae, Skye, and I are all sitting in a local restaurant waiting for burgers and fries. After an hour of delightful conversation and munching, Rae leans over and indicates that she and Skye are going to go order a beer, asking if I would like one too.
As I begin to say “No, thanks”, I immediately catch myself and reply “Yes … thanks for asking … I think I need to do that.”
As a young teenager, I remember smelling a mostly-empty beer bottle just once. The scent of the beer was so intense and gross to my sensitive nose that I absolutely knew that I would never take a drink of that disgusting stuff.
Just a year ago, when I told a friend that I had never even tasted beer, I ended up being coerced into taking my first sip. My prior judgment was re-confirmed – I had absolutely no desire to ever drink a bottle of beer – never ever.
Just a few weeks ago, I had actually asked Ambe for a tiny sip of her beer, again reconfirming my utter disgust for the taste.
Friday night, in the midst of two dear friends, I force myself to gradually consume the entire bottle. Just the mere presence of that beer bottle sitting on the table in front of me causes me to simultaneously swallow a huge gulp of self-judgment and pride. I find myself continually looking sheepishly around the restaurant to see just who might be watching as I commit what feels like such an incredibly evil act.
An hour later, as the three of us hang out briefly at another local restaurant where a small traveling trio is playing some really fun music, I cautiously decide it is time for another drink. I simply did not enjoy the beer, so at the bartender’s recommendation, I try a Bailey’s and milk. I actually quite like it, but quickly realize that I have taken my experiment in “loss of control” as far as I care to go.
Even with just two drinks in my tummy, I am feeling quite tipsy. I see no reason to go any further down the rabbit hole at this time. I have faced my fears, learned that when I get a little under the influence I am still a very happy and fun person to be around, and have now written about the experience – facing one of my biggest fears of all.
Cuddle Love
As the evening draws to a close, Rae and I have a little more fun simply listening to music and dancing around our apartment.
As I grow tired and a little more wobbly, I lay down on the day bed that doubles as an uncomfortable sofa in our living room. Rae soon sits beside my tired head, gently and lovingly stroking my hair. I feel a small burst of energy with each stroke. I am amazed at how my ongoing emotional healing seems to parallel a gradual reawakening of a richer sensitivity to the energy of human touch.
I am deeply grateful for this incredible soul named Rae who has entered my life in such a magical way. At times, I see her as a beautiful daughter. At other times I see her as an amazing friend who is helping me to wake up and to face more of my own growth and fears. Tonight, I simply love the feeling of unconditional loving touch as energy flows into my neck from each gentle stroke of my hair.
Skirting the Issues
I have every intention of writing on Saturday, but the energy is simply not supporting me. My ongoing growth has been so intense that I seem to be stuck in emotional processing mode. Part of me is afraid to write, not yet ready to face the onslaught of emotions that I know will accompany any attempts to put my continuing growth into words.
When Avril stops by unexpectedly, she decides to tag along with Rae who already has plans to spend the day in San Pedro. Five minutes after they both disappear down the sidewalk, I find myself pushing my laptop under some pillows, performing a quick change out of my pajamas, and racing to catch up – hoping to catch my friends at the lake before a boat whisks them away beyond my reach.
The first thing I attempt to do in San Pedro is to connect to a couple of friends with Skype at a local internet cafe – but none of my connections go through. The emotions in my heart strongly proclaim that today is not a day for talking to friends back home.
Soon, I am again tagging along with Rae and Avril. I have absolutely no agenda other than to follow Avril, who has no agenda other than to follow Rae. The two of us simply giggle as we follow Rae around on her planned errands.
After a delightful half day of dining and shopping, we stop at a small second-hand clothing store.
“Brenda,” Rae and Avril innocently encourage me, “why don’t you pick out a skirt.”
Forgotten Fears
For a couple of weeks now, I have felt a strong desire to begin dressing in a little more feminine manner – but as I begin to scan the little clothing store for any treasures that might await my grasp, an unexpected guest instead latches onto my heart.
An intense feeling of fear, insecurity and self-judgment consume my soul, reminding me of all the previous times I have gone skirt shopping. I recall feeling incredibly stupid for not being able to pick out a skirt that looks good with my age and body shape, and for never being able to find one that would coordinate with any of the blouses that I own.
I tentatively pick out one skirt that I think might work, but the loving feedback I receive from Rae and Avril only serves to confirm my utter lack of self-confidence when it comes to skirts. Soon Rae and Avril have picked out two other skirts that they think might work, but as I try them on and stare at myself in the mirror, a powerful sense of panic consumes my soul.
The two of them want me to choose what I like, but my confidence level has fallen through the floor. Soon, I am sitting against a wall with tears streaming down my cheeks.
With Rae and Avril’s encouragement, I eventually choose one skirt that I think might work, but my emotions are in turmoil, my self-loathing in full gear, and my confidence literally nonexistent. I feel like a huge burden – an energy suck that is sure to drive all of my friends insane. I simply want to isolate myself, and I absolutely know that I will never actually wear the skirt that I purchased.
Deep Depression
As fate would have it, Rae has plans for the evening. I choose to stay home. My emotions are only intensifying and the last thing I want to do is to be around others.
As Saturday evening progresses, I fall deeper and deeper down the self-pity hole, wallowing in my self-created pain as I watch all of my past insecurities parade through my awareness. The emotions of self-deprecation are overwhelming, more intense than I have ever felt them. As I attempt to spiritually center myself, the visual of a nail piercing my heart passes through my awareness, along with the intuition that I actually died this way in some remote past life.
With increased intensity, I feel as if I am literally sinking in emotional quicksand. There is absolutely no hope for release. I feel like giving up, like running away – but there is nowhere to run.
On this lonely Saturday night, I am not the least bit suicidal, yet I am shocked as feelings of suicide parade themselves through my consciousness. I remember how I had often thought casually of killing myself just a short fifteen years ago – never in a deeply serious way, but I was thinking about it just the same.
Waves of numbness and deep tears push their way through my emotionally tired body as I again feel a deep pressure clamping down on my heart. I am all alone. I want to meditate but I cannot seem to find the mental focus to concentrate for more than one second. I wish I could lose myself in computer games or a movie, but I cannot motivate myself to even try. I want to try calling a friend with Skype, but the thought of reaching out to another from such a depressing state is terrifying. I refuse to be a burden. I don’t want to pull anyone else down with me.
A sense of complete worthlessness overwhelms me as I helplessly observe my own behavior.
Its Just Energy
Shortly after 10:00 p.m., Rae comes home and finds me crying in my room. Sitting at the foot of my bed, she gently uncovers my feet and places them against her bare leg, making just enough contact to ground my energy with her own.
We talk for a while, but I realize the conversation will go nowhere as long as I feel completely disconnected from source.
“Do you want me to guide you through a meditation?” Rae asks lovingly.
“You can try.” I reply feebly, “I don’t know if I will be able to focus, but I would love it if you could help me get re-centered in a higher vibration state.”
For the next thirty minutes, Rae gently guides me through two back-to-back meditations. Gradually, I return to a state of blissful peace.
“All of the past is nothing but a memory.” This idea flows strongly into my heart as Rae continues guiding me through the second meditation.
“The past is nothing but energy and belief systems.” My thoughts continue. “Why does the sheer nothingness of a memory hold such a strong controlling power over my present emotions?”
The question causes me to spiral deeper and deeper into my meditative state.
“Yes,” I repeat to myself. “All of my dysfunction and fear is nothing but an energetic memory. Why can’t I simply let go of the energy?”
Slippery Slopes
With Rae’s angelic assistance, I fall asleep peacefully, and even dream quite soundly, but by 5:00 a.m. on Sunday morning my eyes are wide open as I again struggle to maintain emotional sanity while being bombarded with an ever increasing onslaught of crazy emotions. I spend the entire morning drowning in these smelly emotional waters.
As the Sunday afternoon chocolate ceremony approaches, I desperately consider staying home. My slippery slope of intense emotion has pulled me to the middle of an imaginary insanity swamp – a swamp that is sucking me in deeper and deeper.
“If I walk onto that porch I will make an absolute fool of myself.” I ponder with terror. “Even worse, there will likely be a huge group gathered around to watch.”
Surrender to Shame
As I arrive at the dreaded magical porch, I quietly take a seat on a pillow by Keith’s kitchen door. Without saying a word to anyone, I simply stare at the ground and contemplate numbly.
“I’ve been feeling your energy a lot lately.” Keith quietly whispers as he approaches before the ceremony begins.
“Yeah, so have I.” I reply without even glancing upward. “I feel like I have every one of my past negative voices parading loudly through my mind. I am trying to remain the observer, but feel like I am losing my mind. I can’t do this by myself.”
I don’t even want to make eye contact with Keith because I know I will burst out into tears.
As the ceremony begins, Ambe pulls up a pillow and sits directly to my right. As she lightly touches my right arm with her fingers, shame-filled tears begin to flow down my cheeks. Soon, Ambe reaches around my back and rests her head on my shoulder. The floodgates begin to open even wider as a beautiful young woman on my left responds by also reaching over to share her energetic touch.
“I guess there is no point in trying to be strong today.” I ponder as I surrender to the fact that I am about to splatter emotions all over this porch.
Trading Places
Almost halfway through the ceremony, Keith asks a young woman to sit on a pillow in the middle of the porch. He then guides the remainder of the group through an exercise in helping her to energetically walk out of the emotional hell in which she finds herself trapped.
I am quite familiar with this process, and my heart tells me that I should be the one in the middle. As I ponder that jealous thought, my heart whispers that I will be next. As I wait, I allow myself to sink deeper into my own hell hole – deeper into the quicksand of hopelessness and shame. I soon curl up in a fetal position on my pillow and begin to quietly sob.
“Brenda,” Keith interrupts when the exercise is complete, “Would you trade places with the girl in the middle.”
Briefly opening my tear-soaked eyes, I crawl five feet and return to a fetal position in the middle of the room. I am way beyond caring what people might think. The only thing on my mind is that I am miserable and I desperately want to do the necessary emotional work that will allow me to clear these dense energies out of my body once and for all. I know that I am presently incapable of doing the work by myself.
Suffering Screams
I feel stupid and grateful at the same time as Keith briefly explains to the group that I have been dancing around a deep core issue for a couple of weeks, and that I now need some help to release it.
Keith then does something totally unexpected. He launches into another group meditation, this one involving the Cosmic Consciousness or Christ Consciousness – a deep and profound meditation that brings in the powerful energy of unconditional love.
I begin to cry again, but the emotions fizzle. I want to scream but cannot find the courage or the energy to do so. Remembering the anger-releasing emotional power of my “ohm-ing” in Xela, just a week earlier, I attempt to repeat the process, beginning with a very weak and shaky “oooohhhhhhmmmm”.
As I do so, a few others who are surrounding me begin to “ooohhhhmmm” with me. As I gradually increase in strength, the group responds with equally increasing volume and harmony.
The vocal vibrations pop the cork off my bottled-up emotional reservoir, and I am soon crying profusely. To my shock and surprise, I find myself screaming and sobbing at the same time, attempting to muffle the sounds by pushing my face into a blanket. The group assists me in a profound way by continuing to “ohm” loudly while I continue my powerful scream-filled purge.
The deeply-intense crying and screaming go on for several minutes. Gradually, the volume decreases as the tears begin to be replaced by rapid hyper-ventilation type breathing.
I begin to recognize that Moses is gently holding my head, making sure I am OK while Ambe is seated behind me, lovingly singing while caressing my back. Many others are gathered around, adding their own profound support. All are perfect angels. I love them so much.
As my rapid and very heavy breathing gradually fades back to my own quiet “ohm-ing”, I begin to recognize the sound of several others crying on the porch. I am so into my own process that I never learn the details, but I am told that my own deep processing has triggered several others, assisting them to access their own deeply buried emotions – to do their own deep emotional release work. Somehow, this tiny bit of knowledge fills my heart with deep gratitude.
Progressing Peace
“How are you feeling Brenda?” Keith asks me as I finally reach a quiet state of peace.
I have been working on bringing in the higher vibration energies for several minutes now, and Keith asks his question at just the perfect time.
“I’m feeling much lighter.” I reply in a quiet peaceful tone. “But I know I’m not done. I intuitively know there is more to access and release.”
“I’m feeling quite nauseous.” I add a few seconds later.
“Then you have probably done enough for now.” Keith gently replies. “You need to listen to your body, to allow yourself to rest and integrate.”
I continue to breathe deeply. Occasional small bursts of tears trickle down my cheeks. I remain curled up on my pillow for what must be at least another hour, quietly meditating in my own private mental space. I feel the presence of others still gathered around to support me, touching me, holding my hands. I occasionally listen to portions of the ongoing ceremony as others continue their own work.
But the only thing that interests me right now is the love in my heart and the peaceful feeling that progressively infiltrates my body.
A Home Run
“You hit a home run today.” Keith smiles at me as we talk briefly after group. “Don’t think about it now, just integrate with yourself. Rational mind cannot explain what you did today, but the intuitions will begin to flow through you as you process and write about it.”
“What you did today was extremely powerful, not only for you, but for the whole group.” Keith adds. “Thank you for being so awesome.”
“You did it with grace.” Moses tells me later with a huge hug.
“You did it with elegance.” Someone adds from across the porch.
Deep gratitude fills my heart as I crawl into bed at 7:30 p.m. – gratitude for the peace that runs through my veins – gratitude for the amazing friends that guided and supported me through today’s process – gratitude that I found the courage and strength to stand in the batter’s box at a time when the universe seemed to be throwing every possible type of high-speed curve ball in my direction.
Yes, I had surrendered to the process – yes I had faced some deeply rooted fears – and yes, I had faced them with love and courage.
While resting on my pillow, newly awakened energies lightly drift through my body. As I ponder just what these new energies might mean, a feeling of deep relaxation whisks me away into dreamland.
Skirting Joy
Monday morning, I can think of nothing more joyful than to put on the skirt that I purchased in San Pedro on Saturday. As I walk into our afternoon chocolate gathering, wearing my skirt and a tiny bit of makeup, I giggle with delight as Keith and others give me glowing feedback on how pretty I look – but I am in such an enchanted airy-fairy state that I need no outside feedback to make me feel beautiful and confident.
I mostly sit and glow during five hours of group, quietly holding a loving energetic space for others while I continue to integrate my own emotional growth in pensive meditation. I am not sure if my rational mind will ever understand or appreciate yesterday’s events, but in my heart I know that something profound has shifted – something that will only reveal itself in non-rational ways.
I am intuitively aware that considerable emotional density continues to lurk, swimming beneath the surface of my emotional lake. But for now, I will enjoy a couple of days of joyful writing and being – simply being present in a healing path that increasingly reveals itself as a beautifully orchestrated stage play, a play written and directed by my own Higher Self.
Copyright © 2011 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved