Raym’s client’s desire to uncover the reason for her mistrust of men uncovers a past life of luxury and incarceration.
My apprentice and I observe my client Jane as she walks up the driveway to my healing studio, not too steady on her feet.
“It’s in her ankles…”
“Whatever ‘it’ is she has come to see you about.”
“Very helpful!” I smile at young Jo’s accurate perception of my client and her deliberately ambiguous answer.
“Tell me more…”
“I see restraints around her legs and I feel rage and despair.”
“Good, let’s see what the client perceives.”
After a brief interview, Jane lies in my beautiful crystal mandala and enters an altered state easily. Immediately she experiences discomfort in her ankles.
My legs; I am pinned down and I feel nauseous, she telepaths.
Look at your legs, what do you perceive?
I feel caliper-like metal against my ankles and leg straps on both ankles, like I am disabled… No that’s not quite right, I can see now, I am strapped to a filthy bed, big leather straps with brass buckles that chafe my ankles. They hurt.
Where are you?
I am in a lunatic asylum, some time ago. I should not be here.
How did you get here?
I have no idea…
Jane likes men, but she can only go so far in an intimate relationship before she starts to have feelings of mistrust and betrayal, usually irrationally and without foundation. Now in midlife, having more or less resigned herself to being single, she had pretty much given up with men, until she came across my work. As a last resort, she has decided to get to the bottom of it through shamanic journey.
Jane’s perceptions of her past life are crystal clear but we need uncover the reasons behind her incarceration. Commanding her body to show us, we travel to the deep south of the U.S.A. It is the early 1800’s and Jane is the only daughter of a wealthy family, growing up on a huge plantation. Life is good for the family who live very well off the hard work of their slaves.
It is a different time and a different sensibility; by their standards they treat their slaves well. They have days off, they are fed well and they are only whipped when they are insubordinate or try to escape.
The house slaves, cooks, cleaners and nannies are kind to the child that was Jane and she becomes close to a few of them. Shielded from the more severe degradations they experienced, she does not trouble herself about the rights and wrongs of slavery; they live a comfortable life because of it.
Jane grows into a young woman, not too well educated (as prospective wives did not need to be), but reasonably smart, perceptive and able to run a big household. As a solid looking girl from good stock, she is an acceptable marriage prospect for the right man.
Jane’s past life self has romantic ideas about her future husband as a selection of potential suitors visit the house. But romance is the last thing on her father’s mind when he finally choses a suitable suitor. A lucrative business deal with a wealthy older man in need of a young, healthy wife who can bear him children finalises his decision.
Wanting to be in love, Jane falls for the older man’s charm and worldliness, bearing him several children, but her marriage is loveless. Her husband uses her for his own pleasure and treats her like a baby farm. He ages into a paunchy, balding, disrespectful slob and she grows to despise him. Her revulsion turns into disgust as she notices several pale skinned ‘mulatto’ babies on the estate, born of young, doe eyed, black mothers who are given easier tasks than other slaves.
She tries hard but cannot prove that her lecherous husband is the father of these half-caste children, then she realises that nobody cares. She knows that she should feel relief that he no longer bothers her, but she does not. Instead she feels betrayed and with her pride wounded, trapped. She is not strong enough to leave her comfortable life and has nowhere to go, both her parents having passed on.
Feeling utterly powerless, she becomes an expert at nit-picking every single thing her husband does or says. From breakfast to supper he cannot utter one word but to have it quietly derided or turned against him. Over time her sarcasm becomes an incisive, rapier-like weapon, with one sole purpose – to humiliate the man she now detests.
This once beautiful young woman turns into an ageing harpy that would drive any man to distraction.
My god, I have turned into a really nasty, resentful woman. I am horrible to be around. He is the one who should be going crazy – not me.
Give yourself permission to remember how you came to be in an asylum.
We are taken to her sitting room on a beautiful clear morning. She is embroidering, enjoying quiet time, and everything is in order; her husband is out and her maid has just brought her morning tea. She is experiencing a rare moment of tranquility when her mind is clear of her husband’s infidelities.
I hear boots on the verandah outside, I do not recognise them, something is not right.
The local doctor enters the room, followed by her husband and a petty official. There are no questions and there is no examination.
“You, madam, are herby judged to be insane. You have strong opinions and you have obviously lost your mind. These two witnesses attest to this irrefutable fact. You will be escorted to the local asylum where you will spend the rest of your days. Remove her.”
My God. I can’t believe this is happening to me.
“I damn you all to hell and I curse you, you lying, cheating slob!”
She spits at her husband, sobbing with rage as she is dragged out of the room.
And I never got out! I died in that asylum. No wonder I don’t trust men.
You had a bad experience with one man. Are you ready to dissolve this pattern of hatred and mistrust and release this man from your curse?
There is a long pause.
As long as your curse is in place and you do not forgive him, you will both continue to suffer and you will both be bound to this trauma. You will not be able to rebuild your trust in men in this life.
I can live with that, he deserves everything he gets.
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