31 Planes of Existence: Day 8
“You need to have compassion for yourself,” she said.
I busted out laughing. I don’t know why that is what I did but it was uncontrollable.
“Why are you laughing?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
We sat on a cement bench over looking the second oldest jungle in the world.
“You can keep your eyes open or you can close them. You can ask questions or you can say nothing.”
“Ok.”
“Are you relaxed?”
“Well, these types of moments, ones where I know I’m supposed to relax, generally make me very anxious.”
She smiled and started to move her hands around the space surrounding my body.
There was a time when I knew how to relax. I think. Although now I can’t remember it specifically.
When her palm came close to my forehead I felt the familiar pulse.
“What just happened there?” she asked.
“This thing happens in my forehead when I meditate or when someone does energy work on me.”
The same thing happened when she put her hand above my head. And then the chills came when she put her hands behind my neck.
The first time I got these chills was 3rd grade. There was an old librarian (I forgot her name and was tempted to just call her Ms. Something) that used to help me find books. Every week on Wednesday we got to go pick out new books. Most kids sat at the tables and talked but I walked around with her for the full hour. I learned that when I asked her to help me find a book and she in fact took great care to help me that I got a chill (like goosebumps but warmer) down the back of my neck and through my spine.
“What are you feeling?”
“The chills. I get them sometimes.”
There are the things we feel in every day life and then there are these chills.
“There are 31 planes of existence happening simultaneously,” she said.
Sometimes I can get lucky and catch the chills on something as impersonal as a customer service phone call. If the rep is really, genuinely concerned about helping me resolve an issue then they start to pop under the ridge of my skull and work their way through my body.
I never seek advice when things are going well. I never see healers when I am not suffering. I usually save psychic visits for after breakups and energy work for after long trips away from home. But Lina happens to be here, working at the camp, and she happens to be a master healer that has trained with mystics all over the world. She offered me a session and I figured that on a mountain that is famous for ghosts and spirits would be a great place to have my aura scanned.
“You need to resolve your relationship with your father.”
Another near laugh. Although I realized she was getting to me now.
“Forgive yourself, Kirk.”
At this point there was no fake laughter. It was a battle to hold back tears. Like when you’re not at all alright and someone asks you, “Are you alright?” I would have liked for them to come out but I had to be back in the training room in a minute and I don’t feel like dealing with people looking at me and thinking something is wrong. I guess that’s the compassion bit she was talking about.
“You have so much light around you. They are everywhere. Just let them in. They want to help.”
I keep some almond milk in the mini fridge in my room. I use it to mix my green powder into an empty jar. I’m talking on the phone with Alexis on the terrace and I keep thinking about how the mix is getting warmer because it’s hot outside. At some point there was a scientist who became fascinated with temperate change. And now we can quantify temperature, we can determine how long it will take to heat something, and we know how to measure the energy produced from changing something from a solid to a liquid. It’s safe to say that these are real things.
We are less able to prove multiple dimensions, spirits, love, or intuition. And I am less likely to believe they are real because of this.
But I don’t get very excited about temperate change. It doesn’t do very much for me. I don’t read books about math when I want to be inspired. Facts don’t give me hope and they don’t keep me very curious about life. They draw the exact picture for me and the picture is not an abstract.
98.6% of me wants to be able to prove everything. So I know that it’s right.
They say that humans and chimpanzees are 98.6% genetically identical. There are two ways to look at this:
1) We’re not that special.
2) A lot can happen in 1.4%.
I don’t know why I get the chills when nice people help me. I don’t know why I get choked up when I think about her walking towards me in a white dress. I can’t quantify it anywhere.
But I trust it more than anything.
