Tonight was the first night with Hell and his meditation sessions with a new group. Only new faces, with just Martha and me from the old group. I can’t do this right. I should have known. I stopped meditating years ago because I always hit that place where I was in total panic. I thought it would be different now because of all the changes in the past year.
The others talk of great visions and colours and of God speaking to them. Me, what do I see? Scissors and the Tooth Fairy. How can I tell that to the others? I am writing what I saw as a matter of record, in the hope that as the sessions progress I will get better at this. I’m retelling this, but I am certain I do not have the order of the images right. It’s the best I can do.
First one: Entering an energy field, all white and shimmering. It is pulsating slowly. I like this. Inside is a large room, all white. White tiles on the floor, white walls, and a white couch. There are large windows everywhere and I am, I think, inside the sky. The windows show nothing but blue.
Sitting cross-legged on the couch, I can visualize a green light around my belly. I see it go inside it, where my bladder infection is located. Then as I see that red parasite, the green light turns into a green cat. I tell it to eat the parasites. To play with the red one, as a cat with a mouse, and send it out through the urethra.
Next was the bridge. I had a bit of trouble with that. My bridge is in space. There are stars everywhere, but it looks like some kind of atomic structure with atoms swirling all around. The bridge is the space in the middle. I could not picture people on it. Not my mom, no one. I could not picture the ‘fabric of my life,’ as he put it. I am wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. Good enough for me.
I could not imagine the house very well. I found the chest right away, though. It was in the living room (all white). The chest is made of wood, the kind one usually has in the bedroom. The lid is made of a soft, green material. Inside, it is cedar lined. I do not see clearly what is in there, although I try and I try. Still, I put my hand in and pull out a pair of scissors. Small ones with mother-of-pearl handles.
I think maybe they belong to my grandmother. I’m disappointed; no treasure for me, no special message. Just an old pair of scissors, the kind used for cutting embroidery floss. I put them in my pocket (I might have been wearing an apron) and try to get on with what the doctor is saying. I am a bit lost. I stayed too long in the house.
He then says to imagine we are planting a seed. So what do I see in my hand? An acorn. There he is talking about flowers, and I plant an acorn. Typical of me. Nothing delicate about me even in meditation. I see the tree full grown but still young. It is not in bloom but has the most beautiful green leaves. It is magnificent. There is no one to tend it, though I seem to have a feeling that Jesus is looking after it. What can I say, I’m Catholic.
What I remember next is the part about going inside my head and opening doors or something about healing. Could not follow that at all. Don’t remember anything else on that one.
I came out of the meditation feeling aggravated and frustrated.
Everybody else said they were relaxed and had enjoyed the whole thing. I did not feel like sharing, as it seems I didn’t do this right.
Where was the blackboard? I could see a nun erasing it. I could see myself back at the convent, but I didn’t like it. I was not really suc-cessful at that visualization.
The second meditation was no better: Back in the white room.
Sitting on the white couch. Back with the green cat, back with the red parasite.
This time, when he mentions the blackboard, I picture Kirsty Alley dressed as the Tooth Fairy, as she was in Toothless. I loved that movie and it made me smile to watch her erase the blackboard with those large emphatic gestures she always uses. She went on the bridge with me. I took her to the lake. There I lost her.
The bridge is different. It is now made of flagstone. It is curved and spans vast spaces. I can see my mom but not much going on. There are people, but I cannot identify them. The message board? Be Yourself.
BE. BE. BE. BE. BE. BE. BE. BE. BE. BE. BE.
At the lake, there was a cascade. I stood under it and let it wash over me. The water was the same transparent green as that of the green lake I once visited a little north of where I live. It is like a huge emer-
ald. I dive to the bottom and swim under water. I see one large fish silently swimming by. Then I put my hand into the muddy silt and pull out a cross. It is very large but fits in my hand. It is one of those square crosses with the same dimensions horizontally and vertically.
I think it is called a Byzantine cross. I don’t think it is made of gold.
I think it is made of silver with precious stones of emerald and ruby.
The elevator was a surprise when he mentioned it, and I did not know quite where to visualize it. I put it to my right on the bridge, then I took it down to 1948. When I stepped out I met Micha.
She is wearing a yellow raincoat and a matching hat. She is also wearing blue boots. These are gifts from me. She giggles and laughs, and we go to make sand castles, her favourite pastime.
Later I see my grandfather. I try hard to see his face properly. To see what he is wearing, but he is mostly in browns and greys. He takes her by the hand and leads her away from me. She turns to look at me.
I then see him pick her up and carry her away. I suddenly hurt in my chest. I am crying. Micha is going to get hurt and there is nothing I can do. I cannot move. I hope the raincoat, the hat and the boots will give her some sort of protection (how silly — what an idiot I am). I am not sure, but I think she had put the cross into one of her pockets.
The man is now talking about a beach, and birds, and learning how to fly. The others described that part and how they loved being a child again and how they loved flying. I never got to fly. I was unable to go to the beach. I saw the birds. They were seagulls screaming in my ears. There was no flying.
I was upset at having just stood there and not done anything to protect Micha. I stood there watching him take her away, and I was not even angry. How can I be like that? If I am going to visualize these things, why don’t I visualize that I free her and make everything all right? Why don’t I visualize that I kill him? Destroy him totally? Make him disappear for ever? I hate myself for being so wishy-washy.
Sept. 9, 1999 (NSA journal entry after adjustment) Today I felt…That son of a bitch! I want to kill him. The savage.
The bastard. I hate him. I want to castrate him, to cut him in little pieces, to make him suffer slowly.
But I feel empty. I hate myself.
Sept. 10, 1999 (NSA journal entry after adjustment) Today I felt…I am practising my punch, so that if I ever come across him again I can hit him for myself, the adult, not only for Micha. It seems to me that every time he’s turned up in a meditation or a dream, I haven’t had the right feeling, the proper reaction.
Wishy-washy.
Why is it that at times I just want to jump off the table? I feel I have something urgent to do.
Sept. 13, 1999 (NSA journal entry after adjustment) Today I felt…I am hungry. I am cold. I am very cold. I want to eat.
Mother, where are you? Where are you, mother? Where are you?
Sept. 15, 1999 (NSA journal entry after adjustment) Today I felt…I am dirty. All dirty. I am ashamed. Grandfather, you made me all dirty. I want to wash myself. All dirty, all dirty, all dirty.