Collaborations of Abstraction

A spiritual awakening, or, I meet my guides

Posted on: October 20, 2011

I couldn’t sleep. It was another full moon and the light of it combined with the street lights practically made it day in downtown Minneapolis. I sat up and turned on my lamp. I picked up my notebook and the pen I loved so much. I sat there for awhile just staring at the empty page.

Something about it comforted me, like walking alone after the first snowfall. Everything is so clean and white and untouched — virginal.

blank pages

 I had been kinda itching ever since the morning, when I was walking to work listening to music. A song came on my iPod: Dazed and Confused by Led Zepplin. A stanza in particular made me a little irritated:

 Lots of people talkin’

Few of them know

Soul of a woman was created below

I wrote in my notebook now:

 I’ve never considered myself much of a feminist, but I guess my definition of a feminist might be a little broken. Defined by someone else rather than myself. The word feminist leaves sort of a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t want to be associated with it.

All I can think of is man hating groups of women who demand to be treated equally but end up alienating everyone in the process. They want equality but in the process eliminate themselves from the masses.

 While I have no problem with standing out, I don’t want to be angry and demanding. I just want to be me.

And I want to be able to say I like sex without being called a whore. But that doesn’t give me license to act like a whore and get mad when I’m labeled as such. 

Really what I want is to be able to exist without preconceived notions, and what irks me is that I’ve been labeled as a trouble-maker my whole life and I’m not sure why. I was a virgin until my senior year of high school, but to many I was a slut.

I was smart (13 in a class of 400+) and involved in loads of extracurricular activities (debate, band, speech, key club, speech, drama, camp counselor, piano lessons and more) but still I couldn’t be trusted by my family.

It was as though I was inherently bad. Somehow things were always my fault.

I was getting going now; I was feeling angry like a combination of teenage angst and righteous indignation. I hunkered down – this combination made for great writing and writing was great for purging this energy.

When you think about it though, any woman who stands out is always going to be ridiculed in one way or another. It’s just easier to keep your head down.

Don’t be a slut, don’t be too prude, don’t be rude, don’t be too nice, get a job, raise kids, keep your husband happy, keep your house clean, keep your nose clean, be one of the boys, stay in shape, have great hair, cook awesome meals, get it all done in under an hour and take some time for yourself too.

How impossible is that but yet it’s all there in the magazines for us … the user manuals of our current age. And if you don’t, you better have something wrong with you that you can expose to the world. A drug habit, a compulsive shopping disorder, a chemical imbalance. 

Don’t question it; don’t ask questions. Just keep your head down and do what needs to be done. Otherwise you’re crazy. Or worse yet, a crazy bitch. What a fucking joke. 

And why is it that it’s so easy to say the soul of a woman is created in hell? That women are the devil? Even when you insult men, it’s usually that they’re dogs or cold-hearted.

 When you think about it, all the world’s problems have kind of always been blamed on women.

Eve was in cahoots with the devil, a serpent, and not only did she disobey her God but she tempted her partner to do it too. Because she wanted knowledge.

And what was the result? Oh just the struggle of mankind to toil the land and pain in childbirth for womankind. Because before in the Garden of Eden, God was just making food, animals and people out of thin air. Sounds like God was just getting a little lazy and needed someone else to do the work. 

And what about Pandora? I’m not sure why, but this story hit home more than Eve’s when I heard it for the first time. Probably because I was 11 and starting to have my own opinions, as opposed to being spoon-fed Eve’s story as a toddler. 

I remember thinking how ridiculous it was to say that the curiousity of one woman could cause all of humanity to suffer. She opened it up to let out all the maladies of the world out, but closed it before hope escaped? What kind of silly story was this? I asked my teacher. What bullshit! 

As I sat on my bed scribbling this all down furiously, my head started to feel light. I took a deep breath. I was lying on my bed, propped up on a few pillows with my notebook in my lap.

I surveyed my posture. Nothing off there. None of my limbs were asleep. I had read and written like this for hours before without feeling this way. I took another deep breath and waited. It wouldn’t go away; in fact it seemed to be getting more intense, like a swirling feeling in my head, but it wasn’t nausea or illness. It felt kind of like vertigo.

Suddenly something was pressing against my body. It was a physical feeling, at least it appeared that way. What the hell was going on? I had better pay attention to whatever this was.  I set down my notebook and turned my lamp off. I could always focus more with the light off.

The pressing feeling started at my feet and legs and moved up into my torso and finally my head. It felt like something was laying down into my body.

I tried hard to not to freak out. Part of me was genuinely frightened because I had been brought up to think that this must be possession by the devil, but another part of me was really curious because I had felt that pressing on parts of my body my whole life but never paid much attention to it.

This was the first time I had ever stopped everything I was doing and gave it my full attention and this is what happens? I was shaking out of fear and excitement.

What scared me a little more was that I noticed I could no longer move my body. I felt paralyzed. I tried to breathe. At least I could do that. Perhaps it wasn’t that I couldn’t move but more that I didn’t want to.

In my mind I demanded, Who are you? What do you want?

I took another breath.

In response it said, “Don’t be afraid. I am you.”

Now that completely confused me. What the hell does that mean? How can you be me? I just felt you sit inside me. Doesn’t that mean that you were apart from me?

The voice was calm, quiet, soothing.

“I’ve always been with you, but when you were young I was cast out of you. So for your entire life I’ve been watching you, waiting for a time when you’d be ready to be complete again.”

To say that this interaction was a conversation would be like calling a symphony performed a piece of sheet music. There was so many emotions and sounds and moving pictures in my body at that moment it was hard to condense into words.

I heard swords unsheathing themselves. I saw fire and a cold planet – it was dark and covered with ice. It had stalagmites on its surface with castles to match. It looked medevil but I knew somehow that it wasn’t Earth. I heard a battle but couldn’t see it.

After all of this, these memories, that this voice, this spirit, was showing her, I asked, Why are you showing me all of this?

It said, “I want you to know your background and why you were sent here to this planet. You’ve been fighting through life after life and now is your chance to do something different. You have been given the chance to do whatever you want. You must pay attention.”

I still couldn’t move. I felt wonderful and scared all at once. I wanted to weep both from sadness and happiness. I felt my body in a way that I never did before, and even if I couldn’t move it I knew that nothing would be the same again.

It continued as though it could read my mind. “Well it could, couldn’t it?”

If it was me it probably knew everything about me.

“I will never leave you again. You are strong now and can protect yourself. Before I needed to leave in order to protect the part of you that can never be hurt. You are special and can’t be spoiled. You are whole.”

I felt the tears fall; I felt the relief wash over me, but still felt the pull of my old life, my Baptist upbringing, casting doubt over the situation.

Why don’t you show yourself? I asked. Why can’t I see you?

It sighed.

“Oh Rebecca, seeing isn’t always believing. You must explore yourself in order to see everything you’re made of. It’s a life long discovery. And besides, I don’t think you’re going to like what I can show you.”

Why wouldn’t I like myself? I asked. Show yourself, I demanded.

“Well, you were raised not to like part of yourself. It’s not your fault; I’m just saying it might bother you,” the voice said.

I took a deep breath. I’m ready, I said.

“OK.”

And in my head I saw scales like that of a snake but a little more rough, with greens and purple hues. As the voice sent more of its picture it zoomed out and I could see a large reptile head with a long neck with spikes sticking out.

moon dragon animal purple pictures, backgrounds and images

Finally I saw wings, and as it took flight I saw it flying high over the dark planet I saw earlier. It breathed fire onto the planet, near the place where I’d heard the battle before.

The voice was right. I got so upset I mentally shook the image out of my head.

I’m a reptile? I asked in surprise and disgust.

“Not a reptile,” the voice replied. “You’re a dragon. Or rather, you were a dragon. You come from another planet in the constellation Draco. I told you you weren’t gonna like it.”

I took a breath. Draco is bad, I said and couldn’t help but think of the character in Harry Potter. Dragons are reptiles and they are evil. From serpents in the Bible to snake bites and fairy tales, dragons aren’t exactly the best creatures.

“It’s OK that you think that, but I encourage you to look into it more when you’re ready. Not all stories with dragons are bad, and not all residents of Draco are bad either. But I understand why you think that way.”

Why now? I asked. Why would you join me at this point?

“Well,” the voice said, “it’s complicated because I’m you. We all belong together.”

We? I asked incredulously. There’s more than just you?

“There’s Pandora as well,” the voice said, “but she doesn’t speak so often. She’s pretty … well she’s extreme and better taken in small doses. She doesn’t like you or me so much; she feels betrayed I think.”

 Pandora? As in Pandora…the first woman in the world? She’s me?

I knew now I was going crazy. If hearing voices isn’t enough, delusions of grandeur will definitely send it over the edge, I thought. Textbook. I guess my ex was right.

“You’re special, Rebecca. You are meant to do great things for this planet,” the voice said. “You’re not crazy; you’re perfectly sane. You’re just more in touch with your body and your soul now.”

I took a deep breath and thought, OK. I can handle this. I’ll just speak to my friends about it. I’ll see what they have to say about it. Thank God I have friends.

The voice cautioned her. “You can speak to your friends but be careful how much you talk about it. Pandora isn’t a big fan of people knowing where she is. She’s sort of incognito, I guess we should say.”

Incognito? I puzzled over that. What do you mean?

“Well, she’s not really aware of herself unless she sees herself right now. Some think she’s a bit of a handful, so she’s been given limited powers. But don’t worry about that right now. It’s been a long road, and we don’t want to overwhelm you after we’ve been bound for all of these years.”

Why did you leave? Why were you bound? I had so many questions, but I was so tired suddenly. I yawned. I could move!

“We’re all together now. We’ll never leave you again. Take your time and enjoy being complete. You’ve got plenty of time to learn and ask questions,” the voice said.

Draco and Pandora, I thought. I must be losing my mind.

“But you’re not,” the voice said. “It’ll take a while, but it’ll feel natural one day.”

I moved my legs and arms, stretching slowly. My body was exhausted but I felt more alive than I had in what life I could remember. I yawned, smiled, smacked my lips and fell asleep.

The next day I awoke and thought, Nothing will ever be the same. And I was right.

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1 Response to "A spiritual awakening, or, I meet my guides"

[…] actually just posted an excerpt of the novel, which I’ll be editing this November.  Of course, some people may argue that editing a novel […]

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Collaborations of Abstraction

Two close (though, unfortunately, not in proximity) friends – a Welsh man living in Ireland and a Minnesotan woman living in Germany – come together to share musings, wit and random things of interest in this journey called life

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