The stories of our past lives, the whisperings of our ancestors and our deepest memories are nested together in the soft darkness between the boney wings of our pelvis. We have been trained, of late, to watch the tidal rhythms of our breath as a tool to quiet and soothe, but there is a deeper knowing. It lives within. Below the breath. Deeper than your heart. Below your soft, rumbly belly. And that deep knowing is yours from the time you drew your first breath. The question is, “How will you access it?”
I don’t have answers, but I have walked a path toward this deep knowing and I have a few suggestions to help you begin, whether you are doing the good work of deeper self-awareness or whether you are an intuitive healer in service to others.
In my own healing work, I often find myself in the interval after death and before birth. For me, that experience is physical. I know we have entered the Bardo, that state between lives, when I can no longer draw breath. When my own tidal rhythm pauses and I experience the vast empty, the soft grey nothingness, and the internal focus of the one I am helping. I experience it as the one I am helping.
What do we learn together, my client and me, in our visit to the Bardo? We may see a review of past lives, of choices - both ahead and behind. We may be met by kindred souls or guides. Most often, we experience the moment of transition into life.
I have seen folks pulled back into life before finishing their review and making their new agreements. I have seen folks who lingered long and intentionally in their state of no being. I have seen folks ushered through the Bardo in the light and loving grasp of Kwan Yin, the Bodhisattva of Mercy. And I have experienced the wandering back and forth through the Bardo, from life to afterlife, at the deathbed of a loved one.
I crafted my own key to open the door of my deep knowing in thousands of hours of Thai bodywork over a 20-year period. My healing practice evolved and grew more quiet and introspective as the years passed. Those who knew my work at the end of that time remarked that little happened - or they weren’t sure what I had done - in our quiet sessions, but they had real impact. I needed those decades of practice to remember something I came in to this lifetime knowing. I remembered when I learned to close me eyes. When I stopped “doing” bodywork. When I dropped into a place of no self. When I let my awareness sink into the soft darkness between the boney wings of my pelvis. Sink into the time before the tidal rhythm of my own breath had begun.
The answers are within. Practice. Close your eyes. Stop doing. Most importantly, believe what you see-without-seeing. Believe what you hear-without-hearing. What you smell-without-smelling. What you feel-without-feeling. Believe what you know-without-knowing.
Believe what you know.