Connecting the Dots and Shining the Light
I am back in touch after a long interruption due to yet another trip to South-East Asia. It was a very “fruitful and delicate trip” (so to speak, and for many reasons that go beyond the scope of this post) and it was the second trip we took to this area in 15 months. I had written a ‘report’ of my first trip (October 2012), which was punctuated by a visit to France to see my recovering mother. I then had a very strong feeling of “maternal Love” submerging me as the Singapore Airlines plane approached Paris early that morning. In hindsight, this period of 15 months between our two trips, October 2012 and January 2014, turned out to be a period of “great birthing.”
At this point, it is difficult to clearly explain to the reader what happened to me a week ago as I reread the notes that I took during our previous trip. It is a fact that I didn’t realize what was going on during this “birthing period” and suddenly, as I reread my notes a week ago, the light shone through. Suddenly, there was clarity, and there was Light—light shed upon this feeling of Love that has been growing in me (there was a large portion about maternal love in my October 2012 document as, ditto, I then traveled from South-East Asia to France to visit my mother who was recovering from a broken hip and other ailments). This growing feeling of Love and its accompanying hormonal changes, as it was later explained to me, were enhanced by the presence and needs of our son. He allows me to nurture and cultivate something very precious, deep down in me, in relation to my mission to ‘bring Love’ to the world and I am very grateful for his presence and ‘high liveliness.’
During this period, “things” happened and I had many unanswered questions that I kept close to my heart. These occurrences of the past 15 months started to make sense as I reconnected to my call for “inner child work” that I mentioned in my October 2012 document, but which had been ‘obscured’ all this time: this feeling of Love growing within, a friend’s inner child call on July 19 in Colorado and my seeing her in a cocoon of Love the next day, the resurgence, qualifying and let go of my ‘dark night of the soul’ which took place over 21 years ago, the fact that my hormone levels have gone up and down last year (testosterone was down, significantly, and prolactin, produced by the pituitary gland, and responsible for lactation in women, was up, slightly above normal) and so many other details that suddenly shone differently. Even my work with a dear friend in France will be affected by this crystal realization.
The best way I can describe how I felt is through metaphors. Two come to mind.
The first one is about decorations and garlands. As a child, imagine you help your parents decorate whatever area of the house with little lights. It looks very colorful to you (every light has a different color) and you look forward to the day when all these little lights will take life, thanks to an energy called electricity. You wait a long time and wonder why is it that your parents are taking so long to ‘do the trick.’ There must be a reason, a reason that escapes you. You even come to a point when you feel discouraged, and go on to play with other parts of your imagination—the little lights carefully stored in a corner of your psyche. And then, when you expect it the least, the light goes on all over the lights and it feels like MAGIC. There is no other word, and there is no other feeling, WONDER. You now know, and you bear the responsibility of lighting the area you worked so hard at. Thankfully, your hard work paid off, very beautifully.
The second metaphor is simpler. It is a rope bridge that I kept building and suddenly, after so much weaving and stretching left and right, I find myself on the other side. More than a feeling of relief at having safely arrived on the other side, I experience a feeling that “life can finally go on” and I don’t look back. Perhaps the precipice was too deep, perhaps the past is no longer meaningful, and there is a bit of both as I witness some old relationships lose meaning. Not that the friendships are gone, but the friends no longer call, or the desire to reach out to them is no longer there. They belong to another world, one that sits on the other side of what I call ‘the precipice.’ They were beautiful and alive at some point; they simply lost their juice and their appeal.
I cannot end this communication without relating an experience that was nothing short of extraordinary. It took place two days ago as I went to the nearby train station with our son, attending to one of his favorite activities: train watching; knowing there are slow trains, those that stop, and fast trains, those that don’t.
For whatever reason, I was consistently agitated that day, and it was very noticeable; the way I drove in the morning or the way I cut people short, on foot or on the road. Something was meant to happen. On the way out of the station, I have to admit that I deliberately took the wrong way out in the parking lot, in order to save time, and that I didn’t fully stop at the stop sign connecting us back to main road. A gentle man witnessed the scenes and he was quick to stop us. I had to explain our son what had just happened, and why those blue and red lights kept flashing behind his back. I mentioned to him the gentle man’s work and duty to protect us, and the fact that I had not been a good river. It took an eternity for the gentle man to return with a little piece of paper. He was extremely cordial and the adventure ended on a sweet note; we were only 5 minutes from home and our son told his Papa to “be careful!”
That evening, during my meditation time, I visualized the gentle man’s inner child, at the age of possibly 6 or 7, and sent him Love and Gratitude for what had happened. In retrospect, he certainly protected the two of us, as well as other drivers and passersby. What I didn’t expect is what I felt the next morning: a deep feeling of Love for this person. Never had something of this intensity happened to me, and I was very grateful for my ability to connect across the waves with someone I barely know.
Even more beautiful was the gentle man’s writing on the little piece of paper he left with us. I couldn’t see what he had written that evening, as it was too dark, and looked at it this afternoon. The single offence he mentioned gently reads: Obstructing passage to other drivers…