February 21st 2013 (Thursday)
On arrival we all had to put an item on a covered tray in preparation for the psychomery exercise later.
There were eleven of us including Greg, the facilitator. A new man and a new black woman came. I only point the black lady because we are so rare in these circles, and because she’s significant later.
We began with a short opening meditation to ask our guides to gather close and help with the messages and healing. I was verging on exhaustion after a very hectic day, and had even contemplated not coming. But as it was me that requested we had a go at psychometry I felt obliged to put in an appearance. I was so tired I remember little of this meditation, other than the fact I nearly fell asleep. I was therefore very grateful that the next exercise was a practical one, the psychometry.
We all took something from under the cloth that wasn’t ours. I picked a set of two house keys. I didn’t look at them but held them in my hands as instructed and closed my eyes to try and get something visual, auditory, kinaesthetic, cognitive, olfactory or gustatory.
First thing I got was a tingling on the left side of my forehead near the hair line, and a thought that the person had an issue with hair loss. Then I felt a sensation in my right eye and an accompanying thought, ‘Try and see things from the other person’s point of view. You don’t always have to be right.’
The next place I felt a sensation was in my stomach. There was no accompanying thought, but there was when I felt the intense healing energy in my hands. The owner of these keys was either a healer or should be a healer.
When I opened my eyes and looked at the keys I saw that one had a purple tag and the other an orange one. I had the thought that whoever owned the keys was having an internal tussle between spirit and expressing themselves in the physical world in some way, maybe sexually.
When we came to feedback time everyone got something. The first person to go was the new black lady, who incidentally had the same name as one of my sisters. It’s quite an unusual one. She got the names Wendy and Laura, saw a cat, a fireplace and got the word grandmother. We weren’t disclosing what our object was at this stage, just testing to see what people got, but I knew instinctively that she had my ring. Just the mention of grandmother. The cat was probably to do with working with animals. Although I couldn’t make sense of the other things, I was convinced.
When it got to me I described what I’d got and looked around to see if anyone was inadvertently giving away that it was theirs. But no. The dim light and the deadpan faces gave nothing away.
When we came to revelation time I had to wait till the end to confirm my initial conviction (because Greg went the other way round so the first became the last). There was a high degree of accuracy among the group who had been working with a range of small items ranging from a guitar plectrum, to watches, photos, jewellery and of course keys.
The person who claimed the keys turned out to be a Reiki master who wanted to lose weight from around his stomach and said maybe the left side of the forehead was about listening to his spirit guide. He said the right eye might be symbolic also, and finally that the tussle may be between him and his wife, as she doesn’t believe in any of the psychic/spiritual stuff, or the healing.
I was the last, but it was worth the wait because the new lady with my sister’s name did, indeed, have my ring. By then I’d worked out that the fireplace could mean the fact that I write with my back against a radiator, a constant source of heat in the winter. (Not sure how good it is for my back, but it helps to keep the blood and words flowing.) I still couldn’t make sense of the names but I’m pretty certain that will become clear at some point. I got a sense that my grandmother is really trying to make herself known to me.
There was a buzz of achievement in the room as we went into the final exercise of the evening, more connections with our guides who would take us on a journey to meet other guides in the spirit world, the others who are also helping us.
‘You’re in a meadow,’ Greg said, and I was instantly there. A lush meadow with primroses, buttercups, worms, butterflies and some purple flowers I don’t know the name of.
‘There is a door in the meadow,’ Greg continued, and I saw gradually a green door so translucent it almost blended in with the green of the meadow. The way I could detect it easily was by it bright gold handle. In front of the door popped an image of a science lab, and on the black board to the right were rows of writing.
Rainbow on Miami Beach, Barbados
‘Open the door,’ Greg instructed us. As I turned the gold handle, which was smooth and solid, it opened onto Miami Beach, my favourite beach in Barbados. I was at the Enterprise Road end, and sat down on a rock.
‘Someone is walking towards you,’ said Greg and I saw about a hundred yards off a woman dressed in a bright dress with large red flowers, like hibiscus. When she came closer I noticed that her skin was the colour of copper and she had about six big long plaits, what my mother used to call ‘yam plaits’.
I don’t remember the rest of Greg’s instructions because once I’d begun to engage with this woman she took over and I followed her instructions. I asked if she was taking
me up to meet the other guides.
‘No,’ she said, ‘we’re going in the sea.’
‘But I’m not a strong swimmer,’ I protested, ‘and especially on this side of the sea. I’s so rough.
‘Come with me, you’ll be alright,’ she was very directive, and I followed.
Once in the water I opened my arms and allowed myself to be carried by the waves, not caring how far out I went because she was with me. She told me that in the water I could be free, and we floated around doing gambols and laughing and having a grand old time.
Then she said, ‘We need to go down now?’
I instantly became fearful again. It was one thing floating on the top – but to dive down was more than I was ready for.
‘I’ll show you how,’ she said raising her arms above her head and clasping her hands at the top like an arrow. I followed suit. She told me to take a big breath and hold it. I did. She twisted her body in the middle, bent in half and took her hands into the water to guide her down. I watched and followed. We were diving down, down, down; past lost of fish and other creatures which were blurred because we were going so fast.
‘You can let your breath out now,’ she said, ‘after a while you’ll see that you can breath down here, you don’t need to hold your breath.’
I breathed out, and she was right.
‘What are we going for?’ I asked.
‘You’ll see when we get there.’
But as we continued to travel down to the sea bed I heard Greg calling us back into the room. It’s the first time since I’ve been doing these sessions that I’ve wanted to stay in a meditation. I wanted to see what we were going to find.
Again the feedback was incredibly varied, with people having travelled to magical lands, Victorian streets, Native American lands, houses down the road, or, as in the other black lady’s case to a tropical forest, where she got into a crystal clear pool and felt very free.
I gathered from the feedback that the parts of the meditation I didn’t hear were to do with the person you met taking you to meet others. Maybe that’s what mine was doing; maybe they were all on the sea-bed.
When I did the initial part of my feedback Greg suggested that the sea represented freedom from any constraints I’d put on myself, and another member suggested that I should open up more and not be so scared all the time. I wasn’t aware that’s how I was coming across. We were just about to move on to the next person when I remembered the lab and the blackboard. I mentioned that the writing on the board was inconsistent with scientific writing which is largely numbers and symbols. This writing was uniformed, more like in a novel. In answer to someone’s question I said I have a background in science but that I now write fiction. And I got it at the same time as most of the others in the group. The image was telling me to write science fiction. But what would I write as science fiction?
We closed and I was on a proper high. I’m convinced now that the messages are not random. My grandmother wants to make herself available to me, and she/they are guiding me to what to write. First the ‘writing for children’ then the ‘butterflies’ now this.
When we finished I had a brief chat to the other black lady and asked if she’d noticed that we both achieved freedom in the water. I wonder if she will come again.
When I spoke to my friend about the meditation she said there could be a slavery link, that many would-be slaves jumped overboard rather than become slaves.
Am I to write slavery as science fiction? That would be interesting.
Do you have another take on it? And what about that lady having the same name as my sister? (see post Zoe and Me at Home).