One particular meditative experience had a major impact on my life. In Spring 1994, I had come down with the seasonal flu. Sneezy, achy, and generally uncomfortable, I took to hanging out and sleeping in the spare room so I wouldn’t spread germs to the rest of the family.
The morning this experience occurred, my now ex-husband was leaving for a recreational trip to Europe. I was upset. I felt abandoned. Here I was flat-out sick with three young children to care for… school, sports, homework, cooking – and he was leaving. I resented him and the situation.
I heard the doorbell ring at four in the morning. The limo had arrived. The front door opened and shut, and then all was quiet. Lying there feeling miserable, I decided the best course of action would be meditation. It would calm me, help bring me to a better state of mind and generate healing energies.
Using a range of colors and inner imagery, I brought myself to a quiet meditative state. There in the midst of meditation, asking earnestly for comfort from the sickness, fear, and pain in my life, I begged God to take it all away and to help me understand so I might better deal with it all. As odd as it sounds, I remember feeling as if I were an observer of the self meditating. Using gestures, and speaking out loud all the while, I pointed out each hurt and injury for God to see. They were many, but they were small. They existed in my heart.
Somehow I had opened my physical body to display the inner being and all the despair, hurt, and bleeding tears. I am more of a meditator than a prayer, so I found it out of character to see myself praying in this conscious meditative experience. “Please God, help me,” I prayed.
The meditative vision continued. I was gazing up at the white ceiling. A form had begun to take shape. it moved and molded, and finally became the profile of a face and neck. Watching this unfold, I thought, “What is this? No, who is this?” Then, a face started to take shape. “It looks like my brother. It IS my brother!”
The face was very white and smooth, and it spoke, “Look, I too have wounds. I too feel pain.” As I continued to stare up at the face, I realized that it was not my brother after all, the form had become the face of Christ, and the face became yet more human. He became flesh. The smooth whiteness turned into a physical body. Opening the folds of his robe, he showed me his wounds. He showed me his bleeding heart, and he spoke of his pain.” I too carry the wounds you bear,” he said. “We share this pain.”
I knew then with certainty that we were one. I knew my pain was his pain. I knew that he felt what I felt and that I would never walk alone. I reached up toward him. “Let me come with you,” I said. I felt him take my hands, lifting me up – and then he let go. I fell back to the pillows and came out of the meditative experience. I was sad that I wasn’t allowed to leave, but I knew that it was necessary for me to remain here on Earth. I still had work to do.
I write of this experience to share awareness. Moving out of the meditation, I recognized the images as the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I had not been a part of the Catholic faith in over 20 years. As a child, I found these mystical images to be just pictures connected to words and concepts in our religious education books that I didn’t understand.
My interpretation of this meditation is that Jesus exists as our brother in Spirit. He was born, lived, and died so that we might know that we are more than this and that there is no death. We are spiritual beings experiencing human life. We are individually manifested souls, brothers and sisters, each interconnected in Spirit. We, at a deeper level, feel each other’s pain and despair, or joy and happiness, and somewhere in the history of humanity, we’ve lost the ability to recognize the connection.
That morning, my perspective of reality completely changed. Years of meditation, studying, and trusting the collective interconnected Spirit has led me exactly where I am meant to be – here, sharing these experiences with you.
We are more than this…