edited: Wednesday, May 17, 2006
By Niki Collins-Queen
Rated "G" by the Author.
Posted: Wednesday, May 17, 2006
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I was amazed at how a medical intuitive could tell my life story through biofeedback from a hand sensor board. It showed how my biography had become a part of my body.
I heard a ring and woke with a start. It was still dark. Alarmed, I fumbled for the phone. Half-dazed it dawned on me that the sharp voice was my motherís. "Iím worried about the lump in your breast. Itís malignant!" She said abruptly. "Cancer treatment is expensive," she fumed, "I think you should marry Bud. He has health insurance."
In a strained tone I sputtered, "Mom, thanks for your concern but I have my own insurance."
"Good!" my mother snorted. She requested more information on my insurance and hung up.
I was so flabbergasted I could not comprehend it all immediately. "Malignant," the dreaded word echoed in my brain. I suddenly felt nauseous. "Had I been given a death sentence? My mother is a physician," I thought wearily. "She knows about the power of suggestion." It bothered me that she wanted me to marry my boyfriend for his health insurance.
Thankfully my mother was wrong. The lump was benign and I forgot the incident.
A few years later I went to see Wim, a medical intuitive who uses biofeedback from a hand sensor board to detect the health of forty-four body organs, the energy field or aura, and the seven energy centers or chakras.
Wim moved his long, concerned face from side to side as he studied my chart.
"You were silenced as a child," he said gently. "I can tell from your mouth."
The blood drained from my body. I nodded, unable to speak.
His expressive eyes held pain as he pointed to my chart again. "Your esophagus is flat. You did not eat!"
I gasped, "I wanted to die!" I whispered in a voice high with grief.
"My greatest heartbreak is my motherís absence in my life. As a child I had to adapt to the lives of others," I sobbed.
He looked troubled. "What happened?"
"My parents hated each other. My mother was twenty when I was born. My father, who was twelve years older, said he was sterile. She felt betrayed and left him after my birth. I lived with relatives until seven when my mother got her medical degree and remarried. I felt like a constant irritation. It was a relief to be placed in a boarding school at thirteen after the birth of my sister and brother."
I stopped to wipe my nose with a Kleenex. "My mother has not spoken to me for twenty-three of the thirty-five years Iíve been an adult," I explained in tears. "She wrote on my fifty-third birthday, "I have never had to reprimand or insult your sister. She goes out of her way to do good, not evil." I was stunned and cried shoulder shaking tears.
Wim shook his head and counseled, "Donít own her judgments. Stand up for yourself.
It is time to tell yourself, I am here. I must be good. I am worth eating for. I am worth living for," he offered encouragingly.
"Iím in shock," I lamented. "I counseled children for twenty years and thought I had dealt with the pain."
"You sacrificed your life away. You got lost. Give yourself compassion. Do the same work you did on others. Do it on yourself," Wim said firmly. He leaned forward, "Are you wondering if you should die to please your mother?
"Yes! I didnít realize that," I gasped. "Iíve been reckless most of my life. I lived in dangerous neighborhoods, backpacked and hitchhiked on sailboats alone. Iím embarrassed," I whispered.
"But youíre still here," he said smiling.
"I do feel cherished by my husband, grandmother, friends and clients," I said hugging myself.
"Iím glad youíre alive," Wim beamed.
I flushed. "Thank you!"
I was amazed at how Wim could tell my life story through images of my energy on a chart. It showed how my biography had become a part of my body.
Once I understood where my death wish came from I woke up and began to mourn.
I also appreciated my motherís gifts. Her absence deepened my compassion for others and made me more independent.
Looking at my woundedness enabled me to accept my mother and let go of the past. When I dropped my expectations I discovered there was nothing to forgive. Without an enemy, without a story I felt more positive, peaceful and kind.