Eclipse
Oh sun, your light is so fresh, so baked bread, so yummy warm. When you recede, I lose faith. This happens daily. A part of me, reaching for you, insecure in the dark. Not sure the blue light of the moon will be enough, I feel the cold seeping in.
When I studied hands on healing, I felt the sun in my hands. They taught us to bring it, between our palms, and apply it like Ben Gay, healing heat. Invite some love in here too, they said, like Mom love — you remember, right? Like when she put you in Dad’s shirt with the arm pit stains, slathering vicks on your flat chest, kissing your cheek gently.
So the formula was:
+Heat
+Brought by breath
+Infused with love
And then some visualizations….well, those were optional.
But for me, visuals always came. Beads of brilliant colors coming from God, becoming my spine, shooting the splintering sun and moon through my hands.
My people would say ‘Whoa! Jeez! Your hands are so hot!” Or their teeth chattering, they’d accuse me of deleting the sun and bringing blue ice to soothe their pain.
One day early on in my experiments in light hands, sweet heart healing, I suddenly was aware of several spirits in the room.
My eyes popped open and I said suddenly,
“Are your parents dead?” Later it occurred to me that ‘on the other side’ might have been a nicer way to say it, but the gal, Cindy, under my hot hands said,
“Yes.”
“Oh!” I said. “They are here.”
And they were! And they were full of information, random details about her childhood, her pink bike, along with new information about long dead pets. Oh, and concern for her sister, who is alive and not thriving. They were dishing, and I was somehow a satellite receiver.
Suddenly there was a whooshing feeling and her Mom wasn’t over there at Cindy’s feet anymore, she was right behind me. A dark shadow went speeding across the room, and my hands of light drew dim. Suddenly the me of me was gone and I spoke to Cindy as her mother, in the first person.
“Oh Cindy! I love you!
You’re going to be ok, this too shall pass.
I miss you and….”
Rip! I pulled her Mom out of the back of my head, peeling the shadow and tossing it aside, reinstalling my own light and electricity back into my body.
She receded, embarrassed, back to her husband and their stiff postures. Spitting, I tried to recover without fully cussing at Cindy’s dead mother out loud, seeing as how my hands still hovered warm on her daughter’s body. But, in my mind I yelled,
“What the….! How dare you! I didn’t invite you into my body! GET OUT!”
Shaking, I brought the healing session (turned body snatchers) into a close. Breathing in light, breathing out love, all the while glaring into the corner to ensure I stayed safe.
Breathing in the light, breathing out the love.
And I avoided dead people for 10 years after that day, until I wasn’t allowed to anymore.
