Woman with sunglasses looking out to sea

Going down swinging

In Insight and Experience by LivingNowLeave a Comment

One of the hardest things in life is knowing which bridge to cross and which to burn. When I find myself at such a fork in the road of fate, I turn to my pendulum for answers.

Sure, on the outside it’s a crystal on the end of a daggy gold bracelet. But the power of this crystal is that it reads what’s on the inside. This innocuous piece of quartz is the intermediary for my body and my intuition. In response to questions and thoughts, it translates the subtle energy moving around my body into simple yes or no answers.

For example, I once asked the question, “Is there a difference between philosophy and a bumper sticker?” The crystal twitched then broke into a graceful arc. The answer may have changed my world, but unfortunately I was just a novice and had forgotten to ask “What is yes, what is no?” before asking the deeper questions. Nevertheless, with bumper stickers such as my neighbour’s, “Atheism is a non-prophet organisation”, I think I can safely assume the answer to my question would have been no.

I first discovered the power of the pendulum when a healer waved one over each chakra in my body. Everything was in tune, she said, apart from my root chakra. I was missing energy in the chakra that represented my life force, stability, passion and security – a hidden flaw that refused to stay hidden.

Working on the assumption that I would come to a conclusion if I jumped to one, I decided to wear red for a few weeks – red being the colour to recharge my foundation; my centre, my kundalini.

Now, I’d always assumed that no fashion faux pas would ever rival the Speedo, but walking around like a ripe tomato day in, day out came close. With good intentions, I interspersed the red with a little heart-chakra green, but found that while red and green look festive at Christmas they are terribly mismatched the rest of the year. So, I curtailed the red wardrobe, limiting the colour exclusively to underwear – not a good look under white Capri pants in summer, or while standing above underground air vents in a diaphanous dress.

Speaking of underground, when my Boy Wonder was just five years old we joined an exploration of Sydney’s storm-water drains. Prior to our departure, I swung my pendulum over his little palm. His tiny, perfect fingers and baby-soft palm were not yet developed with the creases and lines forecasting his future, but we still had fun asking the pendulum questions like “Will I have fun underground?” We held our collective breaths while the pendulum rocked gently, teasing us, twitching while it made its decision, then swinging into a gentle arc telling us that yes, Boy Wonder would indeed have fun.

I reminded him of the pendulum’s message as he was lowered into the manhole, screaming and rigid with fear. “Oh yeah” he remembered, and instantly relaxed, tilting his chin at an angle that suggested a world shift in his attitude to the dark tunnel awaiting beneath his feet. Now it was an adventure, not a nightmare. Suddenly he was a pioneer, a renegade on an escapade, and he would have a remarkable story to tell at his next ‘show and tell’ at school.

Watching him descend into the manhole, I realised a few things. First, it is better for civilisation to be going down the drain than to be coming up it. Secondly, if a five year old can tap into his inner lion strength by intuition, then innocence seems to be the key that we as grown-ups need to rediscover in order to do the same. Either that, or intuition is simply having blind faith in assurances by someone bigger and older than us. Just like the millions of Australians who trust the government to maintain a ‘cruisey’ quality of life. No, ba-baaaam, you’re out. As the people who really know how to run the country are busy driving taxi cabs and cutting hair, I know this theory can’t be right.

To tap into our centre, the source of our intuition, we need to shed our prejudices and fear and adopt a child-like innocence. This is the only way to nurture the raw emotions and biological instincts at our centre. Or, you could just wear red knickers, but be careful of light-coloured clothing and rogue air vents.

Anita Ryan is a young-thirties (excluding GST) freelance writer based in Western Australia. She enjoys the panoramic views of the Indian Ocean from her deck, saluting the setting sun with a glass of wine, and playing with the dolphins at her local beach. In her spare time (only joking, there is no spare time!) she is writing an unauthorised autobiography, taming her garden and taxi-ing her son to his copious sporting commitments.

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