From http://people.tribe.net/kallab
This is way beyond a weekend, way beyond the kind of experience I can accurately describe. There’s so much surreal, cosmic energy swirling in my house, in my soul right now it’s hard to walk. It’s hard to breathe. And it’s bloody impossible to know what it all Means.
My friend the Healer is in town. He lives in the ashram where my boyfriend lives, the one I’m intensely connected to as well, led by a Guru I recognize as my own. Healer gives sessions to folks seeking a release – rather like interactive massage, these 2 hour journeys can alter you more than a dozen tabs of ecstasy, more than a cup of Ayahuasca. I’ve had three in the past. One that cracked me open and welcomed me back into my body. One that released a tremendous amount of drug energy from the old days. One that threw me so far into the stratosphere I broke my ankle just a few hours later. Last night was number four, and I can’t imagine they could ever get more intense.
Before it was my turn on the table, six other incredibly precious people had their own versions of a breakthrough. One woman transformed so much – from a mask-wearing fear walker into a genuine, glowing, self-empowered goddess – that it makes me sob just to think of what a gift she received. Some resisted a true breakthrough and just grabbed a few nuggets to bolt out the door with. Others internalized the experience, quietly pondering the openings, trying to analyze what has transpired (and no doubt failing, as it’s not for the head to know.) All, however, took a huge leap forward into the divine, and since these are not just people, but part of my soul family, nothing – and I do mean nothing – could make me feel more happy, more connected to the source, than watching them tackle the task of self-love.
A little after midnight, it was my turn. Healer hinted that our session would be very different from the last ones, than most sessions he’s ever done. He just asked me to trust him, which put me in a near paralyzing state of fear, but a request I could do nothing but grant. There’s nothing I cannot trust him with, and I want the full enchilada, the maximum amount of healing I can possibly attain in every moment. Despite the way it makes my ego feel hijacked and terrified. Too bad for her.
And so I trusted him. Whatever he saw as my highest good, I accepted. I know what it would look like before he made the first request – I know what my biggest fear would be, and naturally, that’s exactly where we went.
Nothing, nothing, nothing makes me feel more afraid and vulnerable than being naked in the presence of a male. I guess I can finally admit that I’ve sourced a tremendous array of sexual abuse, as well as holding my body and my sexual being in a tremendously dark space for most of my life. I’ve had the naked spa massages, but there’s a wall in those experiences that keep it safe. And it took me years and years to even get close to those, and to date, while I have had one or two decent massages, it’s never been a breakthrough. I’ve always stayed more in my head than in my body – a constant state of being for me all together.
So when Healer said – take off your clothes for this one – although I felt my body jolt and tense, the rest of me wasn’t the least bit surprised, despite the fact that he had never requested this of me or any of the many friends I’ve brought to him. He his the best friend of my boyfriend, my ashram partner, my healer – I can do this, I told myself. I am not in danger.
Healer left the room so I could strip down and slide under the sheets, into safety. Then he came in and told me simply – It’s just a massage.
Just a massage.
And on the outside, I suppose that’s all it was. Nothing risque or line-crossing, nothing that a G-rated film couldn’t show. But because of the intention behind us both, this turned out to be one of the most intense 2 hours I’ve ever had. Healer dug into my pain body, pushing on muscles that have been violently clinging to the abuse and pain and fear for eons, willing them – and me – to release the darkness. God fucking damn it, this was hard. At times the physical pain was so severe I felt myself checking out entirely, writhing from the pain and trying to find a spot inside my screaming mind where I could hide. But then he’d urge me – let it out, let it go, feel it; it’s not physical, this is emotional pain – and suddenly, a wave would wash up. I cried and coughed and groaned and screamed, falling back and forth into motionless silence and earth-shaking seizures and outpourings. And all the while, all Healer did was massage my muscles. Arms, calves, back, neck – the usual suspects. But the energy he held, and the energy that rushed through me – it could have powered up the Vegas strip for the next hundred centuries. I pretty much trembled and quaked for the 2 full hours, as if I were planted in an ice storm. I saw the images of many men – those that hurt me on purpose, those that did so through their own pain, and one in particular – my Z – who is the one man I know can and will help me change the paradigm. For once and for all.
By the end of the session, I was as altered as the old E-popping days, completely out of body. Completely. I felt so safe with Healer, so overwhelmed with gratefulness that he could love me enough to help me release layers that I thought I might just die with, they were so deep and primal. We shared such a tender, bonded eve. He left me alone so I could get dressed and wash my face, then he came back in to help me sleep. I curled up in my bed like a five year old girl, wrapped in the covers and trying to fathom what just transpired. Trying to breathe again, to feel normal again. Healer came in and cocooned me on top of the covers, giving me the protection I craved. As I lie there, it was as if I were in a shamanic ceremony – the lights were firing off behind my eyes, messages flying at warp speed, and beings dancing before me with love and light-filled expressions. My Guru spoke to me a time or two, little zingers that soothed me in just the right ways. It was all just beyond description. When Healer finally left around 5 AM to get a couple of hours of sleep, I laid there wired and dazed. I felt both frightened and sad, raw and vulnerable, and yet strong, resilient proud, and amazed at what I had just experienced.
As we talked this morning, we realized another incredible occurrence that transpired during the session – my iPod pitched in and was instrumental in the process. Healer had selected a meditative album of music, which Romeo (mr. iPod) played about every other song. But without prompting, without any set-up by Healer or myself, the iPod started playing my favorite album – Sigur Ros’ Takk. Takk is so precious to me, not only because this is my favorite album from my favorite band, but because it is the soundtrack for my shamanic journeys. I listen to it incessantly during those trips, and in between, so it holds tremendous meaning. So amazing and perfect that the universe would intervene and play just the right song at just the right moment. Every time Healer would will me to feel, and I’d hit that massive resistance wall and believe it was impossible to process this latest mammoth pain-layer, Sigur Ros would kick in and the mad-push would just crumble, and I along with it. I’m telling you, there’s no arguing I was in the cradle of the divine last night. There’s just no explaining how much that will mean to and for me, throughout my body and soul’s journey.
Today is day 2 of our healing weekend. I have 5 more angel-friends stepping up for their turn. Each one will look and feel entirely different – seemingly larger and smaller, but in fact equally profound, whether it’s a conscious recognition. I’m blessed to be the hostess once again, to welcome staggeringly beautiful people into my home and offer a chance to lurch forward into the light. Is there any greater role / gift? Not a chance.
And Healer tells me I am due for session number five tonight. A back to back occurrence – and another first. I have no idea what’s in store – I never do – and I am exhausted and defenseless, which means it’ll be magical once again.
For now, I am rebuilding the cellular memories, the identity of Me. No more the victim, no more the girl who is carrying all that bloody pain. Talk about your turning corners – I may even have whiplash. But it’s a really, really small price to pay.
