I almost don't know what to make of it all. . . the continual changes to my plans, the strange branchings-out and connections. Before I moved here almost two years ago, I'd never heard of Reiki healing, which---miraculously enough----"is not dependent on belief at all and will work whether you believe in it or not." This suits me because I'm slow to believe, even though I'm quite open to possibilities. (I know that sounds contradictory.)
I became curious about Reiki after reading Jane's blog but hadn't had a chance to learn much more personally until this trip to France (that I'd sold my engagement ring to pay for) was canceled. I'd committed to go with a group of women intent on exploring the dark feminine (and various other themes inherent in that, including various beliefs revolving around the probability that Mary Magdalene and Jesus were married and had children [Da Vinci Code stuff]----and how that information was suppressed by the Roman Church, intent on subjugating women, among other things)----all interesting themes that seemed to speak to my own feelings of having been silenced, so I thought I was somehow "meant" to go. So much for that.
However, when I got my money back from the woman who'd canceled that trip, she gave me someone else's name and told me that I might be interested in participating in a small workshop in Chartres Cathedral for a week---called "Healing Bodies, Healing Fear"----and after several other doors closed (including my looking at other possible tours), I decided to connect with the woman leading this group and make this a part of what has turned out to be my self-guided tour of France. And she's a healing touch practitioner (similar to Reiki) who actually performed a healing session for me while I sat in her living room, since I mentioned to her my most recent (annually occurring) breast cancer scare. I told her I don't believe I have cancer, and after the treatment, she agreed----so that felt good. (I'll still go back to have the radiologist confirm it with a sonogram.)
I grew up hearing stories of how my mother resented giving up her ideas of how she might have lived her life, so I vowed never to do this myself. However, fear is sticky and sometimes disguises itself as "practicality" or as "safety" or even as statements like "I wasn't meant to do" whatever.
Here in this time of wondering how to live my life, I am intent on pushing against the barriers of who I pictured I once was in order to become who I am. . . and FEAR will not hold me back.
