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Here is another experience I had while visiting myself in a parallel life. If that sounds strange, I do these guided visualizations where you listen to a person guiding you as you visualize a scenario.
The CD is here at this link if you want to read more about it:
Amazon.com: Healing Across Time and Space: Guided Journeys to Your ...
My posts at this point are descriptions of my "experiences", rather than an elaboration on the what, how, and wherefore of doing this.
Suffice it to say that I do derive some benefit, whether acknowledged or not, from the exercise. I also enjoy it immensely and it constantly amazes me at the variation of what type of things I visualize and where they possibly arise from.
That being said, whether it is an exercise in psychology and I "visit" a dark corner of my subconscious where I gain a morsel of self-truth... ...or an exercise in quantum physics and I am actually "visiting" an alternate self in an alternate reality having crossed the threshold between time and space, ...or, even if it is a spiritual journey, an experience where beings in other realms entertain me with a fantastical scenario for spiritual growth is beyond the point of my posting it here.
I merely write about what I experienced and hopefully I will receive some benefit from the experience, often which I realize later and have learned something about life or myself... ...or at the very least a I get a blog post out of it.
In this experience:
My "guide" appeared. The narrator explains that we all have "guides" (spiritual, if you want to see it that way) that follow us throughout life. These guides are often referred to by people as "guardian angels".
Anyhow, this wasn't one of my usual 3 guides. This was a guide which was just like a black shadow of an androgynous person.
My experience was of a person in a full body suit made of spandex which covered head, hands and feet but upon closer inspection, it was a being with a black rubbery skin, very finely textured. It had no fingers nor toes nor features.
The "time ship" was a typical sci-fi looking space craft with an interior like a 1957 Buick.
When the "ship" landed and we stepped out, I was in water. It was like a marsh or estuary with tall grasses growing in the water and swaying in the waves and breeze.
Even though the narrator said that there was sunlight when I stepped out, it was dark and there was a brilliant full moon against a green-black cloudless and starless sky.
I was terrified and tried to run to land but there was none around me, I could see no land and I could see my guide was calm and the ship had landed in this water and we were both standing up to our knees.
I thought of horrible things like sharks in the water but I was able to just go with it, after all, it was in my own imagination, and maintain faith that I would not be harmed by this visualization that was unfolding in my mind's eye.
....The narrator states that the guide would point at a person and that individual would be me in this alternate life.
At first I was puzzled but gradually I made out a craggy shoreline and a lighthouse in the distance, more grasses and then I noticed a row boat. The guide pointed at the person in the boat and I focused in on my alternate self.
I had to walk closer up toward the boat and at first I was worried that she would hear me (in my past experience, I was a child and the child was aware of this "me"), she was a woman, but she remained unaware of the presence of me and the guide.
I maintained the sense of fear of what may lie beneath the surface of the water, the soft green grasses hid much more than they let on...
I was an old woman. I sat in the row boat, shoeless and apparently fishing. I held a line which ran down into the water. I held it tightly, tied to a stick. my hands were old and gnarled. I was a crone.
My/her hair was white and held down by a dirty bandanna. My dress was black and coarse and I had an over apron or robe of burlap which was patched in several places by cheap and mismatched cloth.
My/her dirty feet were covered in mud and sores in the watery bottom of the boat. I wore some type of pants under my dress, and had a dirty rag of a shawl draped over my shoulders. It was not dark but there was no source of light but the moon.
...The narrator goes on to say things about learning from this other being, figuring out what is going on with it, what it is thinking and feeling... so I did this.
She was a widow. She was not used to being out fishing in the boat on her own. She was stuck out here late having caught no fish after the death of her husband; she had little experience.
I moved in closer and sensed remorse and emptiness in this crone, her empty face held no hint of emotion, yet her thoughts were wild and harsh and all of a sudden it hit me with a shock.... had she killed her husband?
Visions of her husband's dead body floating among the reeds, near my calves and knees, perhaps still on the cusp between life and death, perhaps held down there by a rope and a weight, rotting and being slowly eaten by fish just inches from where I stood sent shivers through my spine and the water panic welled up in me again...
It even struck me, what was she holding on the end of her line? Had she just killed her husband? Had I just stumbled upon him as he struggled for his last breath just beneath the surface? I scanned the waves for bubbles.
I saw none but looking into the dark water I felt the Poeish thrill of a good visualization experience surge through my veins. In my mind's eye, the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. I had an adrenaline rush of fear with intellectual awareness of the non-reality of it all.
I thought I would merge with this woman, find out what she had done. I drew closer. Her features never faltered. She gazed sternly at the moon showing no clue as to either guilt nor grief.
I crossed too closely, sensed a pain in my side. A hot flash nearly drew me wide awake. I'd hit the line, the string in the water, I had crossed through it, nearly slicing myself in half.... I waited, feeling a sharp pain, listening until I had to get up.
I turned off the CD and massaged my ascending colon. I figured some discount Halloween Butterfingers and individualized Almond Joys had done double duty at the exact same time I'd visualized walking through the fishing line.
I thought I would vomit and thought for sure this candy would do it's do and I hadn't actually made a Halloween year without throwing up... but I didn't throw up, I managed to just lay there, legs propped up on pillows for my back.
Perhaps I had a twisted bowel and this witch of a woman, this crone in a boat represented some type of medical cry for help that was now beginning to feel on my right side.
I still lay on my back, legs propped up on pillows in a 90 degree angle, the relaxed position, and not bothering to get up to shit, I dared pass gas.
If there was to be an end to my adventure of being either a starving or murderous old woman in a boat it would come in the form of explosive flatulence as I proceeded to produce the loudest and longest tuba sounding fart I have ever expelled in my life. I swear the neighbor in the next apartment beyond the wall jumped up to see what had happened.
The sheer volume of gas was enormous, enough to provide evidence for all of quantum theory; to say that I expelled a mini-universe is putting it mildly, and then I produced another long and grating Tommy Gun effect and lo and behold the pain subsided.
I don't know why the spirit guide chose to show me the image of myself as an archetypal old woman in a rowboat alone, who had possibly murdered her husband or was possibly just hungry and alone and unable to get a fish.
I think deeply about the symbolism of the fishing line, and my being nearly bisected by it, and then of the tearing gas pain and its ensuing report back in this reality and I must say I am mystified.
I suppose I should avoid any fish sandwiches, fillet of fishes and the like for the next several days.
I usually have a nugget of insight after doing one of these visualizations, especially when I remain awake to remember it all and it is so vivid.
I am really torn on whether or not she killed her husband or was left a widow to fend for herself.
I would really like to know what, if anything, she had on the end of that fishing line.
I'm still thinking. Perhaps I too am fishing, in a way.
I do know that I do not like standing knee deep in a body of water at night in the moonlight with only reeds waving around me.
I don't think I like what might be down there, even if it is just me sloshing around or fishing in my own wet and murky subconscious.
I can't wait to try it again, but it doesn't always work. I generally fall fast asleep when I try it. I'd say it takes about 10 to 20 or so times to try and listen to the CD without falling asleep that I am able to remember any of it, and it makes a blog post.
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| | Posted 11/10/2009 8:48 AM - 28 Views - 8 eProps - 4 comments
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