As I sit isolated in my living room, a beautiful loving face appears at my doorway.
“We’re going out to Keith’s to buy some chocolate.” C.J. surprises me. “Would you like to walk with us?”
How can I say no to such a delightful invitation as that?
It is early afternoon on New Years Day. After a beautiful midnight ceremony at the pyramids I had gotten up early to push my way through the final phase of a powerful year-end writing marathon – finishing off a long detailed post of photos – adding a final touch of visual color to my now-well-documented healing journey. As I am less than twenty minutes away from hitting the publish button, C.J.’s unexpected interruption is both timely and welcome. Yes, I am exhausted and desperately need to stretch my legs. I am excited to fill my tired lungs with fresh mountain air.
As we begin to walk, I am quite surprised as others join us. Soon there are seven of us strolling along the jungle-lined cobblestone road leading out to my favorite magical porch. Small feelings begin to whisper, “This is not just a quick visit to buy chocolate. We are going to have some fun this afternoon.”
Knots of Pain
Keith becomes quite the impromptu host, graciously accommodating our giggling group. Not seeming the least bit bothered to have his space invaded on his day off, Keith is soon serving each of us a delicious bowl of homemade ice cream – a mixture of frozen bananas and raw cacao nibs run through a juicer, topped with vanilla, agave nectar, and cinnamon.
Delicious would be an understatement.
“I have a pinched nerve deep in my shoulder.” One of the women casually mentions to Keith.
Almost immediately, the tone of our afternoon is set – a delightful four hours of socializing, combined with a touch of deep intuitive body work.
Keith never ceases to amaze me. Yes, I already knew that he had spent fifteen years as a body worker, but I had never seen that aspect of Keith’s personality in action. Minutes later, foam pads are spread out on the ground, the woman is lying on her side, and Keith is demonstrating to all of us how to manipulate the shoulder in such as way that the scapula actually massages the inner part of the shoulder muscles.
But it is what happens next that stirs my imagination. Keith begins to help the woman intuitively connect with the emotional and energetic reasons behind the various physical pains that are going on in her shoulder and spine.
I wish I could focus more of my attention on what Keith is doing – but an even bigger blessing is headed my way.
A deeply-intuitive woman – a university student in Traditional Chinese Medicine – just happens to be one of the other amazing people who have synchronously gathered on Keith’s porch. This beautiful young Canadian woman, Nada is her name, just recently completed her clinical hours and is preparing to graduate from an extensive multi-year course of studies, ready to take on the healing world with vibrant passion.
I innocently mention that my own shoulders and neck are extremely tight after three weeks of intense writing focus. Very soon, Nada’s gifted hands are pressing on hidden knots in my neck – performing some of the deepest and most intense massage work that I have ever previously experienced.
The pain is agonizing, increasing with each round of deepening pressure. Each time Nada squeezes down on what she calls “calcified marbles,” I clear my mind and bring mental focus to my breath. Somehow I manage to suppress an inner desire to scream.
A strong inner intuition guides me to surrender, reassuring me that Nada is a master at what she does and that her deep tissue work will bring powerful results. The pain is all I can bear. I want to beg Nada to stop her torture – but the peaceful heart-knowing of inner intuition continues to guide me into a deeper state of allowing.
“I am getting really nauseas in my solar plexus.” I mention to Nada while she continues round after round of painful release on these calcified lumps in my neck.
“You will probably experience a couple of days of very unusual digestive activity.” Nada responds. “There are a lot of emotional toxins stored in these lumps.”
Deep intuitions whisper that these are indeed deeply held toxins – emotional toxins that have been physically stored in my neck for years, perhaps decades. As much as I do not look forward to a few days of digestive unsettledness, I eagerly allow Nada to continue stimulating my toxic waste dump.
“Would you like me to use needles?” Nada asks innocently.
“Yes.” I naively respond, expecting a little round of typical acupuncture.
Wow am I ever in for another surprise! Soon, Nada is sticking needles one-half-inch deep into the middle of these calcified knots, wiggling the needles, up and down, back and forth, stimulating blood flow in these locked-away, tightly-squeezed, emotional storage bins. Again I trust peaceful intuitions while breathing in a focused manner – all in a desperate attempt to mask the pain.
Roommate from Down-Under
To my surprise, after polishing off my photo posting on New Years Night, I discover a Facebook message from my friend Jody – a woman I met during my Sun Course – a friend who had started her own Sun Course on the very day that I graduated from mine. Responding to her heart, Jody had booked a one-way New-Years-Day flight from Australia to Los Angeles – still not knowing what she would do next. Later that same afternoon, in response to several synchronous events in the LAX airport, Jody followed internal guidance and purchased an 11:35 p.m. ticket for Guatemala.
“Brenda,” Jody’s message said, “I should arrive at the lake by mid-day on Sunday. Can I crash at your place again?”
Revenge of the Intestines
Drinking lots of water becomes my number one priority – but even so, the intense toxicity that has been released into my system focuses its rage back into my solar plexus – creating cramping and light nausea, along with intense and unpleasant explosions of smelly gas.
I am grateful for the deep tissue work that Nada had performed on my neck and shoulders, but by Sunday morning I begin to question the rational-mind wisdom of having allowed such work to progress as it did.
“Could Nada have done some damage?” I ask myself in a brief moment of fear. “Were her needles properly sterilized? Could she have hurt me in some way that I will regret?”
Even in the midst of this rational mind rebellion, my heart remains calm and peaceful, gently reminding me that inspiration guided me through the entire process.
“Trust … relax … allow … surrender.” My heart whispers while sending the loving messages to both my head and to my intestines.
Party Processing
For me, the Sunday afternoon session with Keith is less-than-stellar. A miserable tummy will not allow me to engage with enthusiasm or focus. Keith lovingly reassures me that his intuitions confirm my own – that there is absolutely nothing out of place in the physical arena – that Nada’s deep tissue work simply helped to uncover the next layer of emotional densities on which I need to focus.
After shedding a few tears – tears of emotional exhaustion – my tummy feels slightly better, but the only desire of my heart is to go home. I want to crash.
I briefly linger on Keith’s porch, hoping for the opportunity to ask a few questions – but before I do so, Keith leans over, taps me on the knee, makes brief eye contact, and asks a question of his own.
“Brenda,” Keith begins, “an author friend of mine stopped by this morning and invited me to a party at her home tonight. She has a beautiful home just up the road, but only lives here part of the year.”
“I was wondering,” Keith continued, “If you would be interested in tagging along – strictly social of course. This would be a great opportunity for you to meet many of the older, more established people in San Marcos. It will be quite the different crowd from the young travelers that we see so frequently.
“Thanks, but I just don’t feel up to it.” I reply with a ready-made excuse. “On another night I would love to be more social … but my tummy is still uncomfortable and I am so emotionally exhausted.”
“Besides,” I continue, “Jody will probably be waiting for me at my house. I need to be home tonight. I need to be there for her – to visit and to make sure she is OK etc…”
Keith quickly responds with a comment that emotionally pokes me in the ribs, reminding me that I am putting the needs of other’s above my own.
“Do you think I need to be at the party tonight?” I ask inquisitively, hoping for some type of inspired answer.
“Whoa”, Keith smiles with his hands in the air. “That is not for me to know. I only know that I felt guided to extend the invitation. The rest is up to you. I’m not sure how long Joyce will be here, but if she stays for a while there will most likely be other opportunities for you to meet her.”
Under the mask of exhaustion, my fears get the best of me, I again tell Keith “thanks but no thanks”, and I head for home.
True To Myself
It only takes me about thirty minutes of stewing in my own emotions before inner guidance kicks me enough to get my attention.
“Quit worrying about Jody or about your tummy,” the Jedi voices whisper loudly, “do what is right for you … stretch your wings a little and fly … go to the party.”
Having already polished off a half plate of rice and beans, I slide the remaining food into the fridge and start to write a note. Darkness is beginning to fall and Jody has still not arrived from Guatemala City.
“Jody, I’m not sure if you are in town or if you still need to crash here tonight …” I begin, “but since I haven’t heard from you I have decided to take advantage of an opportunity to attend a party tonight …”
I feel deeply proud of myself for making a decision that is all about me – about putting my own needs and intuitions first.
But at that exact moment, even before I finish the note, Jody walks up onto my porch, her backpack still on her back.
My emotions momentarily sag as I think to myself “I guess I am not going to the party after all.”
After giving Jody a quick hug, I tell her about the note I was just writing – but quickly add that I will stay home to visit now that she has arrived.
“Oh no you won’t!” Jody scolds me. “You need to go to that party. I can take care of myself and you need to do what is best for you.”
Thanks to a beautiful friend, I was stopped short from running an old pattern of sacrificing myself for what I believed to be the needs of another.
Party Delight
To my delight, Jody asks if she can walk with me out to Keith’s, just to say hello and to give him a hug. I giggle at how things work out. Just a few minutes later, Keith has asked Jody to join us at the party. My energy levels are up, my intestines have settled somewhat, and the three of us are strolling up a small dirt road headed in the direction of Tzunaná.
If Jody and I had delayed ten additional minutes, we would have missed Keith completely. Now the three off us are off to a fun evening – an adventure that might have terrified me if Jody had not been there at my side.
As I step into Joyce’s beautiful home – a beautiful home at the base of a steep hill right on the edge of the lake – Keith begins to make introductions. I recognize a few slightly-familiar faces, but feel like a fish out of water. Swallowing the lumps in my throat and plowing through awkward social fears, I hold my head high and graciously shake hands.
Soon, Keith is off greeting others while Jody and I hang back, finding a few outdoor chairs with an amazing nighttime view of Lake Atitlan. Had I been alone I would most likely have melted into fear-mode by now – making up some lame excuse about feeling tired and needing to go home early to get some rest.
As fate would have it, we all have a delightful time. Jody and I engage in fun conversations with several women who have amazing stories. I only briefly meet Joyce, our beautiful hostess. She is so busy tending to the needs of all of her guests that she rarely has time to slow down for a visit. But the main reason for not connecting is my own fear – fear of reaching out to converse with a successful published author – social fear telling me that Joyce would not be the least bit interested in getting to know someone like me.
So I run my old emotional pattern – rather than face possible rejection I simply avoid the situation. Net result: I avoid a possible connection as well.
Sleepless Night
Sunday night, my intestines resume their full-fledged rebellion. I manage to get a few hours of sleep, but at 2:00 a.m. fantasies of additional dreaming give way to the stark reality of staring at dark ceilings.
The smelly intestinal gas is horribly unpleasant. I feel as if I have a fish-tank aerator pumping a stream of gas into my abdomen, causing an incessant flow of embarrassing odorous fumes to flow uncontrollably in both directions. I begin to wonder if perhaps I have contracted a severe case of parasites.
By 4:00 a.m., I have given up all hope of returning to sleep. Following an internal hunch, I begin to do a little internet research about last night’s party hostess.
“There is a reason Keith felt guided to invite you last night.” The little Jedi voices whisper. “There is something more that you must do. You need to take the risk and reach out to Joyce.”
“No,” I resist with fear. “That is so lame … like a groupie trying to stalk a famous author … I will not do that … If some type of connection is supposed to happen it will be guided to happen … I don’t need to worry about that.”
I continue to research. It turns out that Joyce Maynard has not just published a few books. She has published over ten, some of them novels, some true stories. One of her books has even been turned into a movie. Her life is replete with struggle beginning at a very young age. Finding the courage to be true to herself, to share her stories with the world, she has also faced frequent rejection and criticism.
As I ponder my own life journey, I begin to wonder how the critics might treat me if I am ever to reach a prominent place in the public eye. Will I too be rejected and criticized for the difficult decisions that I have felt guided to make?
At 5:00 a.m. I finally succumb to an increasingly growing inner drive – a drive that absolutely insists that I send an email to Joyce. Searching her web page, I easily locate an email address. Holding my breath, I begin to type.
After briefly introducing myself, reminding her of our short meeting of the night before, I tell Joyce, “I know you must be extremely busy, but if perchance you do have time, I would love the opportunity to visit while you are in San Marcos.”
I finish off by briefly mentioning my sleepless night, my feeling of synchronicity, and the intuitions that pushed me to take the risk to reach out.
I am completely unattached and expect absolutely nothing back – but I am deeply proud of myself for having the courage to follow what feels like such a silly imaginary prompting. Perhaps nothing will ever come of it – perhaps something great will unfold. Peace fills my heart that I did what spirit guided me to do. I need not worry nor concern myself with either possible outcome.
To my amazement, fifteen minutes later I am fast asleep. Two hours later, I awaken feeling rejuvenated, my intestines feel normal, and the gas is completely gone.
Could it be that my body is communicating with me?
Gracious Reply
To my utter amazement, shortly after 8:30 a.m. a reply shows up in my email inbox – a warm and heartfelt reply from Joyce herself. She too enjoyed the party, and would have loved to share conversation over tea – but she regretfully informs me that today is her final day in San Marcos. She needs to get her girls back to school in the states. Their final day is booked solid with packing and last swims in the lake etc…
I am deeply honored by Joyce’s warm words. I do not question this morning’s confusing intuitions. On the surface, my actions appear to have hit the brick wall of failure; but I do not see it that way.
Perhaps I simply needed to find the inner courage to begin reaching out to others, seeking some type of synchronous connection with someone who might provide some assistance. Perhaps this was just the first step in learning how to face my fears – to reach out socially in an act of blind trust.
So many possibilities remain to be explored in the vast world of the mysterious unknown – a world overflowing with magic and hidden treasures.
Massive Misfit
Monday afternoon, only three of us show up to spend training time on Keith’s magical porch. One woman wants to participate in a past life regression. A consensus vote confirms that this is where we will all go today.
My experience begins as anything but ordinary, making absolutely no sense whatsoever to my rational mind. As usual, my visualizations themselves are quite weak. I experience most of the mind visuals in the form of intuitive feelings and senses.
As Keith asks us to look at our feet, I glance down intuitively and experience the white hairy feet of a very large man. Next, I feel strongly that I am wearing some type of large animal skin, perhaps that of a jaguar.
After fighting the resistance of rational mind, I finally reach profound realizations – I am a very large white man – a stranded European explorer in the jungles of Central or South America. A local indigenous tribe has embraced me and taken me in as one of their own. I am a massive misfit, being more than twice their size, having white skin and light hair, and being clueless as to their culture and traditions. Yet they have seen into my eyes, experienced my genuine heart, and welcomed me into their lives. These beautiful people are teaching me their shamanic traditions, coaching me on how to survive – even allowing me to fall in love with a beautiful young woman in their village.
As I ponder my life in this other dimension, I begin to cry. A strong emotional fact resonates profoundly in my soul – I cannot go back. My former life is over. I have a new life now. The time has come to quit looking over my shoulders at what might have been.
I do not know if such a past life is real or perhaps merely a creation of the subconscious mind – but one thing is certain. Today’s experience gives me a beautiful new perspective on love, and shows me in a powerful way that my journey is carrying me forward – that going back to an old life is no longer an option.
Buckets of Chocolate
Imagine my delight when Isaias returns from San Pedro with three five-gallon buckets filled with over one hundred pounds of pure, slightly-runny, freshly-ground cacao. As soon as we finish journeying into past lives, I eagerly volunteer for another round of chocolate training – helping Keith and Isaias with several hours of tedious nonstop packaging.
When the cacao beans are ground, the friction of the mill slightly heats the cacao, melting the cacao butter and leaving the raw chocolate in a liquid state. The trick is to get this liquid cacao into accurately measured sealed bags while it is still warm enough to work with.
For several hours, Keith and Isaias carefully pour liquid cacao into bags that are suspended in empty yogurt containers. One by one, using a small scale, I tediously adjust the weight of each bag to its exact desired weight – either one pound or one-half pound. Finally, Isaias’s wife uses a kitchen bag sealer to heat-seal each bag before laying it out on a tarp to harden.
After the first half hour, we have the assembly line down to an exact science – except for the fact that the last bucket continues to get increasingly difficult to work with as the cacao gradually hardens.
Finally, shortly before 9:00 p.m., we successfully fill and seal the final bag. Mission accomplished! I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to experience yet another small puzzle-piece of the cacao-processing world.
Rebellion and Reading
A part of me begins to panic.
“I just spent three weeks catching up on my writing,” I tell myself, “and suddenly I feel as if I am dropping behind. I need to write. I need to remain caught up. I need … I should … I must … I have to …”
As I stare at my laptop on Tuesday morning, the little keyboard simply seems to laugh at me, declaring that, “No, you are not writing today … you are tired and burned out … remember your promise to only write when your passions are engaged.”
Feeling quite content, I instead take the opportunity to be social – going to breakfast with Jody while also engaging in delightful conversations with a few others who join us at the table.
By noon, my heart’s request is obviously clear – “Today will be a day to read my own blog – to remember and to reflect on my growth. Yes I want to integrate and meditate.”
As I follow my heart, another thing begins to puzzle me in a strange and profound way – my body feels exhausted and drained – rational mind cannot justify the intensity of that exhaustion.
Social Steps
As I again attempt to write on Wednesday morning, Jody is still sleeping in the other room. Exhaustion attempts to consume me.
“Am I energetically reading Jody’s tiredness,” I begin to ask myself, “and am I then internalizing that emotion into my own body?”
Later in the morning, when Jody does stir, my confusing emotions provide great fodder for exploration and meaningful conversation. Jody is being an angel – providing me a perfect mirror as I explore my fears about re-engaging in the roommate process – fears about shared energy space, fears about giving away my power, fears about not being able to focus or to write when others are around me.
Jody is so much like me – on a similar journey of self discovery – learning to be true to her own inner needs as well.
The afternoon chocolate ceremony brings a much needed rest to my tedious emotional journey. None of my own personal emotional densities rise to the surface. I take great delight in exploring my healing intuitions as Keith periodically guides and coaches my progress. I am really starting to recognize and trust that sometimes I do in fact literally feel what others are feeling.
I later giggle when I realize that the Universe was simply saving my real emotional processing work until later.
I had known for a couple of days that there would be a social potluck tonight. With my usual quickness, I had turned down all of the invitations, indicating that I just needed to have a night of relaxation to myself – knowing deep down inside that social fear is still partially influencing my decision.
“I have grown enough this week.” I told myself with reassurance. “I don’t want to spend another evening immersed in the often-confusing energy of others.”
As the beautiful chocolate ceremony ends, several people indicate that they are walking down to the potluck – at a beautiful hotel situated on the lake just two minutes below Keith’s property. Five minutes later, I succumb to the prodding of a couple of friends.
“OK, I’ll go,” I tell them with love, “but I’m not sure how long I will stay. I really am tired.”
I am so grateful that I again allowed my heart to lead rather than succumbing to the old habits of stale fear-based beliefs. The evening turns out to be delightful as I engage in one deep and meaningful conversation after another. It seems that the Universe is taking great delight in pushing me to the edge of my social boundaries and then beyond.
Shaken Up
Confusion reins supreme on Thursday morning as I am again confronted by the same intense feeling of exhaustion. As with yesterday, a strong curiosity pushes me to wonder again if I might be absorbing Jody’s energy while she still sleeps.
The “old me” would have been frustrated, insisting that I get back to my own private space as soon as possible. The “new me” is delighted at the fact that I can be an impartial observer of these strange emotions – that I can openly and freely discuss them with Jody without trying to place any blame outside of myself – that I can explore the possibilities of the magic of “reading the energy of others” in a way that will help me to understand and learn how to do it without affecting me in negative ways.
Again I try to write – again my heart rebels.
“I am off task.” The intuitions whisper. “I don’t want to write. I want to socialize. I want to stop this cyclic feeling of work and responsibility that I am placing on myself. I am simply tired and want to play.”
As I sit staring at my laptop, silently asking Higher Self for some type of intervening help, a small actual earthquake rocks my world, gently shaking the room around me, lasting for only a few seconds. The intuitive message is obvious – the world as I know it is being shaken up a bit.
The Loop
In a deeply eye-opening Thursday-afternoon session with my favorite teacher, I am thrilled to bring a great deal more clarity to a repeating pattern – a pattern that I have lived out for much of my adult life. It seems that when I finish a powerful growth experience (such as my writing marathon), I have the strong tendency to continue pushing myself forward at a pace in which I eventually use up all of my own personal energy.
This used to be an automatic pattern – one over which I had little, if any, control. But now I recognize it as a persistent-but-quite-optional pattern – one which I no longer desire to perpetuate. Yes, I still slip into this pattern during periods of exhaustion, but am now much more aware when it does happen, and I am so much quicker at extracting myself from the loop when I achieve this state of realization and awareness.
My personal energy can become totally depleted when I forget to connect to Higher Sources, causing me to reach a state of tiredness, exhaustion, and burnout. In that disconnected state I can go no further. Confusion sticks its foot in the door, and the loop has been entered.
In the distant past, exiting the loop was a very difficult process of personal recharging, often taking weeks or even months.
Today, jumping out of this pesky little cycle is much easier – requiring only two things: awareness and willingness. The moment I become aware of what I am doing, I simply need to be willing to do whatever it takes to reconnect me with my own heart.
During the discussion with Keith, I am aware that my tiredness and disconnectedness this week are clearly related to not being connected with my own heart.
“What does your heart want to do right now?” Keith asks the obvious question.
“I simply want to play.” I respond easily. “I want to more actively pursue the social opportunities that are presenting themselves. I want to more fully explore the magic that is the present moment without being burdened by the feeling of ‘obligation’ when it comes to writing.”
Fantastic Fries
Thursday evening, as I prepare to throw some rice onto the stove, I instead follow a twinge of intuition that tells me “You want to go have hamburger and fries again at Blind Lemon”.
Five minutes later, while waiting for my yummy burger and fries, I am engaged in a delightful conversation with Gillian – a beautiful white-haired spiritual seeker who travels the world extensively – a woman who is writing her own book documenting the amazing spiritual encounters that have graced her path.
After an hour and a half of powerful conversation, I excuse myself and begin to leave – but I quickly bump into Holly who informs me that she has scheduled a private session with Keith for 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning.
“Will you be there too?” Holly asks with eagerness, telling me that she cannot imagine a session with Keith if I am not there to help.
“I would be delighted.” I giggle.
I am amazed at how following a simple intuition to eat out has brought me such deep blessings.
Floating in Light
The Friday morning session with Holly is amazing. Since it was her own private session, I cannot say much, but I will say that I learned a great deal about my own capacities to read the energy of others – plus Holly practiced some of her own healing magic in ways that helped me deeply.
Toward the end of our three hours together, I begin to have my own extremely profound energy experience.
The delightful tingling first begins right above my heart chakra. Over the period of about an hour, the energy gradually dances its way up my neck and shoulders, soon consuming my entire head. The sensations do not seem to contain themselves fully in my own body. Often, I feel as if the little energy bursts are actually an inch or two outside of my skin – but I feel their dancing just the same.
By the time that amazing three-and-a-half-hour session ends, I have achieved a deep state of inner connectedness – a state that nearly equals the powerful love and peace that consumed my soul in those beautiful hot springs near Xela, just one month earlier.
A Pierced Heart
As 12:30 p.m. rolls around, several people join us for the scheduled afternoon public session. A deep burst of intuition confirms that I will be staying all afternoon.
“You can do this.” The Jedi voices whisper. “You will be fine without lunch … you know you need to be here … you know you want to be here.”
After entering our group “glow” meditation, the amazing tingling sensations of my morning session begin to return. But I soon notice that a new sharp sensation of pain is also manifesting itself on the left side of my sternum, directly above my heart.
“It is as if there is a wooden door there above your heart, and that door is nailed shut.” Keith volunteers while checking out my energy.
I find it highly unusual for Keith to provide such guiding feedback early in a process – but at the same time I deeply trust that he would not have said anything unless he felt intuitively guided to do so.
Resistance flashes into my mind as I ponder the concept of yet another subconscious door blocking my heart – but inner knowing strongly confirms the door’s existence.
“The door does not cover my heart itself,” the inner voices chatter away, “but it does somehow block the channel between my head and my heart.”
I don’t know how I know this, but I know it. The concept makes so much sense. It explains why I continue to be baffled by the lack of energetic flow across my neck area.
“But no, it is not a wooden door.” My intuitions soon speak loudly. “This blockage is like a hatch on a submarine. It is a pressurized steel door that can be opened from either side using a wheel on the front of the door. But oddly enough, both sides are attempting to keep the door securely shut. If one side attempts to open the hatch, the other immediately counters to prevent such action.”
For nearly half an hour I continue to remain puzzled as to the nature of my door.
Another person on Keith’s magical porch, a man who just happens to be named Bob, expresses that he is an Agnostic – someone who neither believes nor denies the existence of God, he just hopes to find some type of tangible proof. Several times when Bob speaks, his words trigger emotional reactions in my heart. At first I begin to wonder if I am simply reading Bob’s energy – but no, I quickly realize that I am reacting far too emotionally, that what I am feeling must be my own issue. My submarine door is somehow related to a period in my life when I stopped believing in God.
“Brenda, why do you suppose that pain above your heart is so sharp and focused?” Keith asks as he again checks in with my energy.
“It feels as if I was stabbed right here with a knife.” I reply with intuitive confidence while touching the spot on my chest.
“Could the stab have been inflicted by a large nail?” Keith asks inquisitively.
“Yes, that is possible,” I reply hesitatingly, “but I’m feeling that it was a knife.”
“Why don’t you take a look?” Keith insists. “Go in there and briefly pull whatever-it-is out, then tell me what you feel.”
I laugh as I visualize myself pulling the weapon out of my chest. Sure enough, I have a strong awareness flash through my consciousness – it is a nail.
“What do you suppose is the significance of being stabbed with a nail?” Keith probes further.
“I have no clue.” I reply with frustration after five minutes of silently searching for answers. “Can you give me some type of hint?”
“Sure,” Keith volunteers without hesitation, “I’m getting that it has something to do with your religious upbringing.”
Immediately the answer floods into my subconscious awareness. “The nail is symbolic of the crucifixion – symbolic of being stabbed in the heart by my religious belief systems. I feel as if I were crucified by my own religion.”
Almost immediately, my mind flashes directly to an experience that happened in late December of 1986 – the weekend before New Years Day – a weekend topping the list of the most agonizing and emotionally numbing experiences of my life. It was during those short few days that I literally gave up on God – where I felt betrayed and abandoned by my childhood belief systems. And yes, it was in those same two days where I symbolically I closed down the connection between head and heart, so profoundly shutting down my capacity to feel emotions that I became capable of deeply hurting the people in my life that I loved the most.
My warped and desperate goal was to make my loved ones hate me – to force them to push me out of their lives, giving me the emotional freedom to figure out the mind-numbing dilemma of my gender struggles. I could never imagine that my family could support my gender explorations. I simply could not imagine living the remainder of my life in such agonizing emotional shutdown and pain. Yet I knew with all of my heart that walking away from family was impossible. I simply loved them too much.
In a form of desperate twisted logic, I believed that the only way to break free – the only way to remain emotionally alive – was to betray those whom I loved. I knew that I could never engage in such betrayal while my head remained connected to the deep feelings in my heart.
Now, twenty-four years later, I discover a steel hatch sitting directly above my heart, continuing to symbolically prevent my head from totally feeling what the heart so desperately desires to share.
Opening the Hatch
Here I find myself, sitting in meditation, staring at the imaginary steel hatch, realizing that this subconscious doorway metaphorically represents the most deeply buried pain in my entire life. One side of the hatch represents my own capacity to feel betrayed by God and religion. The other side represents my own capacity to betray the very people whom I love.
I am terrified at the thought of re-experiencing the traumatic emotions. I remain quite numb as to the painful events of that difficult day of destiny.
Moment by moment, I relive each painful moment – each agonizing emotion. Allowing myself to feel deeply, I alternate between numb silence and tearful sobs – some of which reach belly-shaking proportions as I remember the gut-wrenching emotional decisions through which I passed on that agonizing weekend.
Finally, after an hour of deep emotional release, I intuitively recognize that the cleansing process has run its course – the emotions have been recognized, deeply felt, and transmuted by higher energies. I ask Higher Self to bring in missing parts of my own higher energies so that they can replace the void left behind by former densities.
Soon I am smiling and giggling, back to helping others. Somehow I know and feel that the communication channels between head and heart have been greatly healed – they will be much more open. I ponder with a sense of awe as I remember an experience just six days ago where a beautiful young Traditional Chinese Medicine student named Nada also helped to open up energy channels on my neck.
Could it be that everything in the past seven days has been synchronously leading me to this point … helping to locate and to open this no-longer-needed steel hatch … helping me to enable a more powerful communication between head and heart?
Yes, I believe it is so.
Dancing in Higher Energies
Friday finishes as beautifully as it began. For the remainder of the chocolate ceremony, I am fully energized, fully present in the healing processes of others. Jody and I spend another extra hour after the regular ceremony as I assist Keith to further assist Jody in powerful ways.
Finally, at 6:30 p.m., after nine and a half hours of nonstop energy work, we are all finished – each of us feeling fully alive and eager to take on a fun evening.
Jody makes a delightful suggestion, and the three of us are soon finishing our emotional integration while munching away on delicious meals at a local restaurant.
As Jody and I return home, shortly after 9:00 p.m., I find myself energetically flying, dancing for joy as I contemplate another week-long round of powerful healing. I have long since given up any attempts to plan my journey. I now understand that some days the Universe wants me to be social – to meet new people – to play and to have fun. And then other days, my passions again pull me right back into writing. I don’t need to figure it out in advance … I simply need to listen to the daily beat of my heart.
I love this newfound sense of balance – the clarity that comes when I realize that there are no formulas – no long term plans. It is all about remaining flexible and present in each precious moment.
Copyright © 2011 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved