A referral from a local GP uncovers the cause of a client’s mysterious, repeated head traumas.
I arrive at my client Maria’s shamboliccabin, which appears deserted. Tapping at the front door, my apprentice jumps out of her skin when it quietly eases open to reveal a pasty and disheveled young lady who looks as pale as a ghost.
“Oh, you came. I don’t think I am well enough to do this”, she whispers using the door as a support. “I have a splitting headache. I feel sick and weak, could you come another time?”
My young apprentice turns to me rolling her eyes. She knows how rare it is for me to even consider a home visit. She also knows that I have little patience for minor distractions, such as pain or nausea.
“I am here now. Let’s talk.” I step forward.
The door opens to reveal the chaos of her stuffy, gloomy living room, complete with mattress, discarded clothes, hot water bottles and an array of dishes decorated by random, unfinished meals. Maria shuffles across the floor looking 30 years older than her 24 years.
My apprentice, reading my mind, opens doors and windows and rearranges the mattress in a north-south direction, unpacking the crystals for our layout with a focussed, practised ease. I sense she is wondering if this is going to be one of the rare cases that I refer to a psychiatrist.
Maria has been in this state for over a year and her sister has diligently attended to her every need despite verbal abuse from Maria. She has tried everything she can think of to snap her out of her torpor and is now at her wit’s end. Maria has not left her home for a long time and has experienced several minor concussions. Both her GP and sister have requested I see her.
Since childhood, Maria has suffered a series minor head injuries, which she believes are causing her headaches now. However her GP has advised me that there is no physical or psychological reason for her ongoing pain and lack of ability to be with other people, particularly her sister.
We talk as my apprentice tidies up and shares her winning smile. I explain that all nausea and pain are temporary illusions and persuade Maria to lie in the mandala of crystals laid out around her mattress. We enter an expanded state of consciousness together and my apprentice observes.
I feel intense pain in my head, she telepaths as we scan her body.
Command your body to take you to the moment it started…
Maria writhes in pain. Why are they doing this to me?
She is being pinned down with electrodes held to her temples in preparation for electric shock treatment. She is a woman being treated in a cold, clinical and loveless lunatic asylum in the early to mid twentieth century.
I never hurt anyone! I just see and hear things they don’t! I am harmless. This is awful.
I talk through the process of release and forgiveness that will stop the need for her body to hold on to the trauma and the pain eases. We scan her body again.
Now there is a man standing next to me. He is raving at me.
Ask him to show you when you were friends.
He was with me in the asylum. He had the same treatment as me. We became friends but he lost his mind. We promised to look out for each other and he is still here keeping his promise, but he is totally mad.
“A mad earthbound spirit. That’s a new one”, my apprentice whispers to herself.
It takes some time to reassure him and release him into the care of his loved ones, but in the end he leaves in peace.
How is your head now?
Better, but it still hurts. There is something else…
As she focusses on the pain in her head, her body takes her to an ancient time where her large non-human form triggers deep fear in people. She is a dragon.
I know I am big and scary looking to them, but I would never hurt them. Why do they hate me? They are spearing me; my head! Oh… I am dying. I am lost. Where is my family?
I call on her family from that time to help. The reunion with her loved ones, the other large creatures of her kind, is beautiful and many thousands of years overdue. For the first time since she was a small child she totally relaxes and she experiences her body free of pain.
I have missed them SO much. They are telling me that I can be a bridge between them and humans. Their descendants are here now. They are the big cetaceans. I can communicate with them.
She starts crying, a mixture of joy, relief, sadness and grief.
As my apprentice packs up Maria stands next to us erect, her eyes clear and bright, a new woman.
We leave the cabin and, out of earshot, my apprentice releases the thought bubble I can see has been bothering her. “I understand that the body will draw attention to the area in which emotional traumas are held by triggering repeated physical dramas in the same place, but this feels incomplete. I sense there is more to be done”.
“You are right. She had a co-dependent relationship with her past life friend with the same trauma. She will miss him, even though his presence was causing her pain. There is a chance that her feeling of loss may open the door to another attachment. I want you to visit her again, reassure her and teach her some psychic self-protection.”
“Sure. So that’s it?”
“Not quite. This has been going on for some time and she and her sister have also built up a co-dependent relationship, I will refer them both to a counsellor.”
“So we didn’t get to fix everything?”
“Our work is complete. Now we hand over to other modalities to finish the job. They all have their place. Today we have removed all blocks to their success.”
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