Falling

Both the sea and sky roiled in anger as Sara watched through the window from her seat above the cliff.

She was a passenger in her own car and the symbolism really pissed her off.

“What’s wrong with me? Why do I continue to choose men who abuse me? Why can’t I just stand up, tell the truth and walk away?” She knew the answer, yet wasn’t ready to face it.

This lookout was the place they’d made love and as well, the place where war had broken out repetitively.

Sometime in the middle of their relationship, one of his ex-girlfriends came to Sara with a story about how Daniel had taken her on a romantic drive into the country one day. Unexpectedly he’d begun yelling and flailing at her, the car swerving towards a death crash with every swing of his arm. His profanities and accusations had sliced her to the bone before he’d finally spun the car around in a gravel turnout on some old unmarked highway and told her to get out. When she wouldn’t, he’d reached over, opened the door and pushed her onto the ground, speeding away.

Today, on the edge of the western sea, Sara sat motionless in the car as she always did during her visions, until she was rousted by a hot foreign energy breathing into her face.

“I just don’t get these visions of yours and honestly I don’t believe you even have them!” He turned toward her, his large frame hovering, his arms practically engulfing her after slapping both the dashboard and the head rest. She had no place to go, she couldn’t even turn fast enough to open the door and run.

And the only real safety she would ever have from Daniel and all the other men who came before him, was deep self-inquiry and fearless reflection about her past choices. The only real safety was to make the only choice she knew she needed to make.

Little did her conscious mind know that night, she would be awakened abruptly in the early morning hours by a swift kick to her low back. Little had she ever envisioned as a possibility, she would awaken a second time that morning, in the hospital, with the man who’d beaten her sitting by her side, holding her hand, crying into the stiff white hospital sheets.

Copyrighted by the Energetic Connection 2012

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Monsters in the Night

Sara spent a lot of time dreaming.

Daily yoga sessions helped her stay in this world.

Only then would she allow herself to relax her mind and go into the visions again. Only at the end, in Savasana. Today it was a remembering of something past, something about her brother.

Fully awake and aware, she drifted easily into another dimension, to the bathroom in the house where she and her little brother lived when they were in grammar school.

In the early hours before dawn, it was usually the screams that framed the scene and its timing, letting her know where and when. Besides, her brother had finally stopped screaming when they moved out of that house, leading Sara to believe it was over, forever. And even as an adult exploring the horrors of the past, this was one of the most frightening experiences Sara had ever remembered.

Bursting through the bathroom doorway, she saw an awfully familiar sight. That beautiful 3-year-old towhead turned around so fast, she could hear his spine bones crunching. “Ouggghh.” Sara wanted to throw up.

What came out his mouth as his head spun was unintelligible, though the wave of ice-cold air blasting out of his mouth was an obvious command. The intentions of whatever had consumed her brother was most certainly malevolent.

Watching that contorted little face and the agony in his eyes, she heard the fear in his moans deep underneath that frigid message. Staring still, frozen in space, she knew he was in there somewhere, so she waited, listening to the cries of a little boy held captive by a beast in his own body.

Copyrighted by the Energetic Connection 2012

Memoirs of a 12-year-old

Sara lay sleeping in her grandparents guest bed, dreaming of all the mod, wide-striped clothing and colorful little plastic things she wanted at the K-Mart down on the corner. Wandering through that store alone, by herself, was freedom.

Soon her dreams were disturbed by a deep cringing in her bones and an ache in her groin, like she wanted to jump out of her skin and run, a feeling she’d noticed first on that day, in that bed.

Imprisoned in a body consumed with bone cringes and groin aches that came and went over the years in different situations, she found many ways to avoid her Mother. Sometimes the pain arose when the woman wanted to kiss her hello or goodbye, other times while hugging closely, and strangely, always while her Mother ate. Sara couldn’t bear to be in her presence as she watched the chomping and talking, all with her mouth open, food falling from that horrible trench in her face.

She became an unwilling expert in dimensional shifts.

Sara talked about these discombobulated feelings with therapists, spiritual teachers, psychic readers and friends during 20-plus years of self-exploration. Sometimes even a few pictures would appear as her words carved out the emotional scene, winding-up her body so tensely, her head would shake.

Out of all those people, and all those years, no one really understood what she was trying to say until her brother mentioned something off-hand one day. Nearly 40 years after that first benchmark before middle school, she’d found someone who used the very same words, about the very same circumstances, to describe how he felt.

It was a body memory, just like hers. And right there, from inside the boy who had terrorized her as a witness to his own horrific experiences, was the first part of her long-awaited answer, someone who finally and forever, understood.

Copyrighted by the Energetic Connection 2012

Reflections

Sara hunched lonely, nestling herself into a rock throne on the outcropping. She’d shined that seat many times over the years when self-reflection was a driving necessity, always looking Westward for her answers.

Today though, it was all about rumination and a conversation she’d had with one of the more prominent and secretly judgmental townspeople. The woman was typically abusive; kindly and different out in the world than she was in her home.

The words she spoke to Sara days ago wouldn’t go away; her passive-aggressive energy was poisonous and omnipresent, and the pressure of the critique continued to pulse against the inside of Sara’s forehead, driving her to rant crazily.

It would’ve been less a trigger for her if the woman’s reaction hadn’t included a vicious statement about Sara’s supposed lack of heart. She knew it was projection, though its stinger went deep into an old unresolved wound. It would have been less a trigger if the woman hadn’t been her Mother.

Sara began to sob, deep sadness coursing through her body. Her tears were for everyone, especially her Mother, dropping, pooling and softening the dry-baked ground to one day receive the seeds.

Copyrighted by the Energetic Connection 2012