I’m never really unwell. Possibly because I don’t have time.
Some weeks I work 40 hours in my paid job n.h.s community mental health.
Then another 30+ hours at our retreat and working with my soul midwife patients.
When I see it written down its madness.
But it’s my life and I have no other option at the moment.
My paid job pays my mortgage on the retreat. Puts fuel in my car, food on my table.
Allows me to provide free breaks and free soul midwife service and therapies .
I’m trusting the universe and I know that eventually I will be in a position to give up my job and devote all my time to cancer patients.
Anyway I digress I’m I’ll.
Not part of the plan but hey ho
I swear it’s when I stop.
My body goes yay.. she’s still and I get a cold or virus.
I’m crap at nursing myself every one else just not myself.
Nurses make crap patients.
So good friend of mine offers me shamanic healing today
I lie on the couch surrounded by aroma of sage and without trying I’m totally relaxed.
I’m vaugly aware of Chris at the head of the table
I’m immediately taken to the beach.
My guide Richard is there waiting we fall into step.
Where are we going I ask.
You already know he says.
In that riddle sort of way I hate.
I sigh and walk. The wind blows gently the sun is warm
Then we step into the familiar cave with the carved seat in cold smooth stone I sit down and he sits beside me
I’m aware of my breathing
Then as we both stand up I feel detached .
I’m walking behind Richard and myself.
On my back I can see a huge moth
With purple wings. Wait aren’t they purple curtains?
There before me is the window I looked out of so may times as a child.
My bedroom window.
I look through it the view is the same
Old oak tree.
My bike leaning on the gate.
The porch roof under my window covered in green
Lead pealing off.
I pick at the chipped paint on the window sill.
I glance around
Old record player one knob missing pile of 45 records from Woolworths.
Humpty Dumpty poster holding glass of beer on the wall.
Dressing gown on back of the door.
Old black wool coat with red lining on my bed no duvets here sheets and coats.
The house of death has me again
I’m now aware of a pain.
In my root chakra.
Ouch I bend my legs up.
Why are we back here I ask Richard?
You never really left he says.
The pain comes again stronger.
Like a contraction.
I’m back in my body beside Richard.
He holds my hand.
As I turn away from the window the moth wings go back to being purple curtains.
You don’t belong here says Richard.
He smiles waiting .
I walk towards him and don’t look back.
The weight had left me
I hear chris chanting the pain lessens
I sit up.snd I’m back in the room .
The water is cool.and fresh
I’m home in our cottage
Where I belong.
Thank you my friend.
For guiding me home. ❤️