In my former life as a massage therapist, we were required to take a certain number of body work classes for the educational requirements so we could keep our licenses current. The classes were usually four days duration, Thursday through Sunday, and were never cheap. I preferred to take classes near by so I didn’t have to pay for air fare, extra meals and a hotel room. In the early nineties that wasn’t a problem. Most were held at the old Baltimore School of Massage in downtown Baltimore, on Broadway. Before it moved to Woodlawn in the county. And was then sold to a Cruise line. But I digress.
Massage can get boring after a while, if all you ever do is the same thing, day in and day out. I welcomed the chance to learn new things, and as my client base grew, I realized I needed to learn more. So I learned from the best. Hugh Milne for Cranio-Sacral therapy, Fritz Smith for Zero Balancing, and Aminah Raheem for Process Acupressure. All energy work.
What I learned in those classes changed how I perceived things, allowed me to question what it was I thought the world contained, how we are affected by energy and how we can effect a change with energy. Much more, but to list everything would make this blog way too long. Some on my best work came the day or two after I had a class. As it is when people with the same mind-set, goal or belief get together, the energy produced can be wonderful. Or terrible, depending on intent. Think: a miracle witnessed, or a massacre.
I was taking a Cranio-Sacral class, I forget which one, and one morning we did a meditation on the chakras. It took all morning. We partnered up and sat on the floor, lights dimmed, candles burning, and did an unhurried meditation, beginning with the first chakra. My partner was unknown to me prior to this class. Nothing special about her. Well, she was a physical therapist, and at that time P.T’s and massage therapists weren’t friendly, turf wars and such. I wasn’t very hopeful about this meditation thing, but I noted my observations as I received them. Then I got to her fifth chakra, the Heart. I am still overcome when I think of this, all these years later.
It was slow at first, and I didn’t understand what I was seeing. It was white, like a cloud, and emanated from her chest. Is that what I think it is? And then as if in answer, it grew bigger, much bigger. I knew I was crying because it was so beautiful, and so very unexpected. I remember thinking that for someone so normal, her soul was so beautiful. Then I realized we all must have a soul like that. A tons of bricks.
I call that thought up from time to time to remind myself while watching news or reading on Facebook that while yes, that person acts and sounds like a raging lunatic, they also have a beautiful soul inside. Not easy. I’m no saint.
So what did I do with what I had seen? I used it in a book, years later. The following excerpt is from Love’s Blood. Britta is the heroine and is sitting with Karin, waiting with her for the Death Goddess to come and claim her. Dromo is the Cheetah and Koozie is the Raven.
Britta looked farther into the hall when Karin dozed. It appeared to be a large hall. It was dark, so she couldn’t tell if there was another level. She sat in a passageway that ran
along the outside wall, but at the far end was another, smaller room.
She was used to people living in buildings on the ground, having seen where her cousin kin lived. It appeared the Dane tribe built houses like the Saxons, but this one
was bigger, longer. Not like the huge house of stone and marble where the Da entertained guests, or the stone guest house outside the mist wall, or the houses in
Pennge. This might be similar to the houses in the village outside the misty veil, but only because they were low to the ground and had thatched roofs like this one.
Best if she never made mention how she and others lived at Breen. How could she
explain that? Still, didn’t the Dane or Saxon ever build houses large enough for all to feel
free and comfortable? Had it not occurred to them? She might mention it when she
better understood the language.
She could hear conversations coming from the large hall, and half the time
understood what was said. Not that anyone spoke to her. Nay, she was ignored. No
doubt because she was sitting next to Karin, keeping vigil. Other than the times
someone brought food to her, none ever looked at her.
The girls and Lars avoided her. She never saw Erik. If Dromo hadn’t shown her
where to take her ease, she wouldn’t have known where to go—even how to ask where to
Being left alone, she had all the time she needed to help Karin ease into her next
cycle. Time too, for learning the language. Koozie and Dromo kept her company, helping
her with the Dane words, telling her stories about their other lives, but often times they
would argue quietly between themselves about grandparents. When that happened
Britta chanted softly to Karin, for two reasons; it kept her from overhearing what was
obviously a private, ongoing argument, and it appeared to ease Karin.
It was dawn when Karin’s soul slipped out of her body. Britta smiled when Karin’s
soul lingered, had to laugh when she felt Karin’s shock upon realizing that what she had
told her was true. Britta felt warmth encompass her, heard Karin’s request of a chant to
assist her on her way. As she chanted, Britta saw Karin’s soul grow to huge proportions as it twisted and swayed, testing its freedom out of a body, all the while swelling as the
chant grew more intense, more commanding. “Farewell sister,” Britta heard. Then Karin
was truly gone.