I didn’t need to die to reincarnate. More like reinventing every once in a while. My longing to heal and understand has led me down numerous pathways. One avenue was bodywork. I passed the massage therapy boards and became licensed in alternative therapy. This massive field allowed me to research many interwoven mind-body-soul modalities. These coupled with my own experiences and intuition provided valuable information.
I see the mind as the computer and the body as the hard drive. I saw it clearly in my clients, one after the other. Every emotion thought and experience gets stored away in this incredible machine, the body. Each chakra is like a folder and holds the experiences related to it. The physical manifestation is obvious, the underlying emotion or experience less so. Nevertheless, it’s there. I used a color code method, along with my own intuition and sensitivity to see these underlying causes.
More about this whole world later…
Almost all of the major trails in my life relate to the base chakra, and therein lie my issues today. Interestingly enough, all the drilling, pounding, and cutting, have jostled things around a bit, as you may have noticed with my writing coming out of the closet, which actually equates to less fear to express myself, less desire to bury and hide the “ugly”. This folder contains the very root of your being. The country and family you are born into. Where you belong. The belief system. Safety, security. Basically, the human foundation.
The fact that I left my birth country as a baby, torn from my family, almost dying in a refugee camp, the family trauma surrounding me, how could it not be so? Then all the later experiences relating to these issues as a persecuted foreigner, it would seem inevitable.
So today, we have modern medicine and surgery that can fix and patch the physical manifestations of these wounds and traumas, which is a blessing and the reason I’m not crippled now.
I have tried and wished through the years to mitigate and dissolve these causes, but it’s a fine dangerous razor’s edge to walk upon. Focusing on them can concrete them further, not erasing them at all. Or, if you could erase them, would that erase part of yourself and your history? So I chose to move ahead, and leave that alone, buried still. I moved forward to create the new, the beautiful, and the kind to balance and soothe this physical machine.
So here I am, soon to be knocking on the door of my seventh decade. I am no longer the frightened, fighting child, the struggling young woman, nor the jaded mature woman. I’m officially the crone, the repository of all of them.
One of my incarnations this lifetime: The internet doesn’t fade away sometimes.