Posts tagged as:

souls

Mind’s eye

It is a Saturday. I pin my voice recorder mic to my jacket and lie down on the crest of a grassy hill. View of the ocean. University buildings behind me. Weekend courses in session and people around, but no one close. I plan on talking to myself about some very off-the-wall stuff, so “no one close” is important. No more futzing. Final falsetto trill shakes the nerves. I close my eyes.

I breathe. I meditate. Almost immediately, I see a woman in my mind’s eye. She wears white denim pants, a white sweater, loosely knit, and a slender belt on her jeans. She is barefoot. She stands there looking like she is waiting for something. Of course I figure I am making her up…so she waits. Finally I say, “Nancy? Are you here?”

The image smiles.

Ohmigod.

Reach my story

An image of a DaVinci drawing pops into my head, the man in the circle. I ask her if that is for me, and she nods.

Weird. Okay, continuing. I notice a few other things about her out loud, like she’s not wearing glasses, she’s standing, not sitting. I get this feeling that she’s still waiting, and that something is working. So, I launch in.

“Can you tell me why I’m here today?”

She has been nodding up to now. I tell her, “You can speak to me. I would like to hear your voice.”

Nancy speaks. I can’t hear her, but I am reading her lips as she speaks slowly. “I want you to tell my story. I want you to reach my story to the world and all who will listen to it.”

She is nodding and saying thank you. I’m watching her mouth move, turning into communication, and I get a rush of wonder.

Rush of wonder

“Thank you, Nancy. I’m listening and I’m watching. What is your story? What do you want me to say for you, on behalf of you? I feel an urgency in my chest and my heart right now, kind of a welling up.”

Nancy’s nodding is vigorous now. Yes yes yes. Her feet are together, her hands on her knees, which are together. She is s sitting up. “I want you to share and to pray. Pray for yourselves, for your welfare. Pray that your welfare be in good hands.”

And immediately my heart plunks a minor key. “Pray?” I ask her. “Is that what you said?” I am definitely not making this up.

She nods again. “The most important word is ‘pray,’” she says.

“Who should we pray to?” I ask.

“Your god, your nature. Your spirit. Just be quiet.” Nancy is closing her eyes in stillness. She brings her hands together in front of her chest, drops her head in a bow and says, “Just be still.” She takes a deep breath. “Go inward.”

Letting the light shine

At this point as I lay on the blanket, I feel an odd stillness in my feet, as if they are sleeping, not tingling, but as if they are taking a nap and I don’t want to disturb them. I tell Nancy this and she nods. Then, they do begin to tingle, but only from the top of the arch to the underside of the arch. The tingling intensifies to give me another image in my head, and yet another plunk in a minor key. But, I’ve come this far. I decide to go for it.

“Nancy, do you mean Jesus?”

She nods.

This is not the hip, New Age experience I am expecting. I follow the image she is giving me, the Jesus in my feet, and her hands placed together in prayer, and continue speaking, “Letting the light shine through the crucifix holes of the palms as they’re placed together.”

She nods. My feet begin to buzz.

Fiercely love

“Is Jesus present?” I ask.

She nods again.

“Did you pray to Jesus?”

Nancy is crying. She was very afraid before she died. She prayed. I am seeing her on her knees. She was sending her daughters love. She was wishing they could hear her, that she could be with them, wishing that the distance between them in that moment was not so impossibly far. Nancy is crying. Her face is wet with tears. She stands up and looks out a window of the World Trade Center.

“You should love your daughters fiercely,” she says, “but tenderly. Bless them because they are not only your daughters in flesh but they are your tribe, your people. You reach far forward and far back in time together. You miss them not only when they die but when you die. You love them as family forever.”

One

Nancy is now on her knees with her hands together. “Tell my daughters to take the best of me and send it along through their lineage. Let them know they carry the lineage of light. It is our lineage to spread this light, to share it, in being this family of light, this soul family that started long before our human flesh. Remember what begins with you ends with you, and connects in you, and together, you are whole and one, and you may walk on the earth as one, together in light, with Jesus, who is light, beaming through him. One.”

The words come in a rush. When they are over, the image of Nancy is quiet, still kneeling.

I am quiet too. Then, “Nancy,” I say. “Do you have more to say?”

She shakes her head. I thank her. And then I open my eyes. The sky is as blue as when I started. A bird circles overhead. I am a little afraid to notice myself now that I am back in real time again. Did all of that just happen? I press a button on my digital recorder and hear the words again. I press stop.

It did.

I give thanks, fold my blanket, and drive away.

. . . . . . . .

(You can read all of the Memory to Light stories in order on the side bar –->)

P.S. The name in this story has been changed.

Thanks for reading Day 30 of “Memory to Light: 31 Days of Stories, August 11 – September 11, 2011.” It is an exercise in writing about loss, for the purpose of letting grief wake, live, and pass through the system. Grief is transformation. Story is transformation. Our world could use a some wakeful transformation right now. Take a peek at the introductory post for the full story of what we’re up to.

Join me

Consider this project an online story circle. Read a story that moves you. Write your own on your blog. Link it to the comments below, so we can read your piece. If you don’t have a blog, write your story in the comments.

Let your memories live. Let small corners of your grief breathe. Let your loss be swept into the collective experience of people sharing, witnessing, and letting be.

{ 3 comments }

Julie Daley is a beloved coach, teacher, writer, healer and wise woman who writes about and works with the feminine principle. Julie has worked with grief in her life and others’, has taught classes to “9/11 widows” in their transitions after loss, writes about the earth and our connection to it as humans, as women, and she explores female existence and spirituality, unearthing sacred awareness with each article and blog post.

I wanted to ask Julie about her work with grief, specifically regarding her closeness to the healing process of the personal and collective tragedies of 9/11. And we did get to talk about that. But where our conversation turned surprised even me. Julie’s listening, and her answers to my exploration, made way for a big share from me, and made me understand the deeper reason for our call, indeed for my whole 31-day Memory to Light project:

To witness, to be witnessed. The sacred call of seeing and being seen.

What follows is the big share and the wisdom in its wake. This is one small part of our rich conversation. Stay tuned for more of our interview in future posts.

. . .

The story

Pema: In the last few days when I’ve been thinking about our upcoming conversation, it’s occurred to me to ask about phenomena. If you’ve listened to people talk about phenomena that they experienced, if you ever talked about letting themselves be guided by supernatural phenomena, mystical phenomena, these very images and elements we’ve been talking about. I’m going to put a period on that and stop asking you questions and tell you something, because it sounds like all of my questions are leading to this anyway.

I had a really wild awakening about four or five years after 9/11. I had moved back to California a year afterward. It took me a couple of years to realize I had PTSD, and that my life, much like many of my friends’ on that day, had taken a nose dive in certain areas. I left school because somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, I thought I was going to lose my mind, and I’d better be in a safe place when that happens. And so I went back to California. I still followed an opportunity to study, but I left school proper.

Then, it did. Everything began to unravel. It kept recessing and recessing, and so I went further back, to Santa Barbara, this place that is a womb and a healing place for me.

Surprises

While I was there, and living in the good graces of my friends’ charity, and this community that I left a long time ago, I started looking for what would heal me. All over my skin, I had psoraisis that took over my body. I would go home at lunch time and put oil on my body [to relieve the pain] and I would lay in bed. And after lunch I’d go back to work. I’d do it again when I got back home. And I was looking for: “What is going to heal me?” Not only that, I was having panic attacks. Everything about myself that I had known was gone, or eclipsed.

And in my search for healing, I went to a massage therapist, a holistic massage therapist, and she said, “By the way, you should probably see if you have souls stuck in your field from that day.” And I’m like, “I have what in my what?” And she said, “You know, you were there in New York on that day, you might have souls stuck in your field.” I thought that she was a quack. But a few months later, I couldn’t forget about that.

So, I ended up talking to this psychic one time that I kind of ran into. I said, “Look, you might be a good person to ask this, because it keeps coming up. What do you know about, like, souls in your field or something?” And she immediately started channeling. She said, “You have 30 souls stuck in your field, from that day, and this is what they’re saying.”

Called

I was, of course, floored. At the same time I felt this intense release in my body. For two days that followed, I felt this light coming through my head and out my feet. And I felt this clarity and this pure joy that I hadn’t ever known before. And I thought, “What do I do with that? What the hell was that?”

And so this journey that I started on August 11, has very much been about, “What do we do with grief? And why is it so hard to take on.” As I’ve taken these steps in these last days, I’ve realized, “We’re all on so many levels of experiencing our grief, who am I talking to? Who wants to hear this? Whose mind am I trying to change?”

You know, you just said, “I have clients who say, ‘I’m afraid to feel my body.’” One of the things that was channeled was this anger. [They said:] “Wake up. Wake UP. If only we had bodies to walk around on this earth and to hate our jobs and to make choices. If only we had our bodies. Wake UP.”

Stored in our hearts

I am compelled to tell you that because I’m asking you to share so much. And because we’re having these conversations about: How DO you know, how DOES your body know? How DO you feel?

And you know, I have talked about this experience, but I have talked about it in kind of guarded circles, because those are people who died. People in our nation’s consciousness, in their families’ consciousness. Real people who had real lives and real loved ones and here I am saying, “Well I had this experience, with these souls.”

I’m still working out what to do with that, but suffice to say I have been compelled enough by the messages to follow another journey. And I’m noticing that this exploration of grief I’m taking keeps leading to that, to what you just said, that this information is stored in our bodies and our hearts.

There is this whole question of waking up. I keep talking about waking up to grief enough to know that it will take you to the other side of yourself. It’ll take you on a transformative journey.

Driven

Julie: Yes AND. It will do those things, AND, it is NOT linear. You have no idea what else is going to come. Where it is going to come from.

That is important to pay attention to, because, as you were saying that, it was like something driving you–I don’t know if it’s you driving you, or something driving you–to do this. As you started to tell that story, your whole voice changed. There was a lot of energy there. A lot of power there, about that story.

When I shared what clients say, “I don’t know how to feel my body. My body feels like concrete.” This dissociation from the body, that’s the split between the sacred and the earth, the spirit and earth. And one of the things I know Llewellyn talks about and that I’ve experienced in my own vision is that women have something here to share. It has to be shared for us to move forward as a species to heal.

Sacred body

…It’s so important for spirituality to come down into, for us to bring our awakening and our awake-ness and our awareness down into the cells of our bodies, because life on earth is a sacred experience. It’s an amazing, beautiful experience and we’re walking around like lollipops trying to prove it all. It’s this glorious experience, which sometimes it’s not glorious in the way we think of glorious, but it’s all beautiful because we are feeling it.

When I try to tell people how beautiful it was when Gary died–I was awake finally. I mean, I felt in every cell of my body, even though it wasn’t what people would call a pleasant feeling. I was no longer sleep walking. I was feeling. And that in itself is I think a miracle, that we are even here feeling in these bodies. That we’re alive. It feels like there’s something in those messages that you got about that.

Witness

Pema: There is. I’ve been spending the last six or seven or eight years trying to understand…who I am in relation to those stories, or who I am to speak for these people? The minute I say that, I realize I’m not speaking for anyone, I’m just sharing the experience. I’m telling the story. And as I build my identity as a storyteller, as I discover how much I relate to story in the world, as I say this right now, I think, “Oh, well look at that, that’s a safe place to be.” If I am a witness then I can just tell the story as a witness rather than claiming this really far afield experience…

Julie: Yeah, and it’s interesting when you asked me how I worked with [the “9/11 widows.”] …It feels sort of parallel to what you’re saying about these souls, because…the healing and all the stuff that happened is sacred. I can talk about MY experience of being in the room, but I can’t share what–I have to notice the line where I would be disrespecting that sacredness. That’s what I notice, I think, that you are articulating around these souls.

Pema: Right! Right. They are not mine to claim.

Julie: No.

Pema: They are not a soapbox to stand on.

Julie: They’re not.

Pema: And at the same time, there are these messages that are coming through.

I had to go on this journey of understanding, of gathering up myself…wiping off all of the stuff that’s not mine that I’ve collected over the years, and then pulling back up…what is mine? What do I want to do? What feels sound to me? And then in understanding who I am, is there a way for me to be a voice or a channel for that which has come to me, that is not mine as a claim, but is an experience, a life experience to relate that is universal?

Julie: Well yes. Yeah, absolutely because it’s coming through you. That’s what’s happening. And trusting that if it’s coming through you, it’s all going to be revealed.

…It’s like trusting yourself, trusting your heart, trusting your body, trusting that you can move through it, trusting in the sacred and the greater, whatever you want to call it. That it is holding you. When I was in Hawaii, I kept hearing these words: “So much is given. You are so loved. So much is given. You are so loved.”

When you really get that, we are so held.

Pema: And when we’re held that’s when we heal.

Julie: Absolutely, whether we’re held by a human being in somebody’s arms, by a community, by ourselves, we can do the healing work, absolutely. That’s beautiful.

 

(You can read all of the Memory to Light stories in order on the side bar –->)

. . . . . . . . . . .

Thanks for reading Day 24 of “Memory to Light: 31 Days of Stories, August 11 – September 11, 2011.” It is an exercise in writing about loss, for the purpose of letting grief wake, live, and pass through the system. Grief is transformation. Story is transformation. Our world could use a some wakeful transformation right now. Take a peek at the introductory post for the full story of what we’re up to.

Join me

Consider this project an online story circle. Read a story that moves you. Write your own on your blog. Link it to the comments below, so we can read your piece. If you don’t have a blog, write your story in the comments.

Let your memories live. Let small corners of your grief breathe. Let your loss be swept into the collective experience of people sharing, witnessing, and letting be.

{ 4 comments }