WHO AM I?

I am not one. I am two.  I’m lying in this hospital bed, and I’m not alone; someone shares my body with me.  My eyes open, and I see masked people in uniforms moving about me everywhere.  Primal instinct screams with resounding vibration - “I got to get out of here!”

I look down at my hands and my wrists are tied at my sides to frigid metal.  I yell, but I can not hear my voice.  Then something bolts from my chest and flees in fear.  A bird, the eye of Ra, and other symbols pour out and fill the room. Within my gaze the symbols circle a black bird.

Why have I split in two?  Who is in here with me?  This place is cold!  It’s dark and heavy.  I want to die!  Erase me!

 

This is what I experienced when I found myself in the hospital this past December.  I had just gone through a second surgery, the day after the initial operation.  The entire experience was a nightmare.  I feel ill simply writing about it.  

Why did I have to experience this dark underworld of the shadow land?

I think on some spiritual level, the entire ordeal was a rite of passage, or maybe a test. I had to face my fears and conquer the darkness of my own soul, so that I may evolve to another level.

Or maybe it was a lesson I had yet to learn?  After all, many people I speak to consider my belief in alternative healing to be a little unrealistic.  And I did find myself in a situation where my beliefs where challenged by traditional medicine.

Just two months previous I had the same symptoms that had landed me in the hospital, and I had healed myself.  No doctors, no surgery; just a strong belief in self healing, some herbs and creative visualization.  But, this belief did not leave much room for trust in those who made it their mission in life to heal others in a more conventional way.

I found myself questioning the intentions of my “greedy” doctors.  I was at their mercy.  I was totally dependent on their intelligence and ability. Healers, nurses, doctors, friends, prayers, you name it.  I even found myself totally dependent on my spouse as well.  Suddenly she was the one behind the wheel making household decisions and paying the bills. 

Corporations filled me with their pharmaceuticals, and then doctors cut me from my stomach to down south of my belly button.  They had their hands all through my guts; moving and rearranging things while searching for infection. 

I am not the same person I was by any means!   It’s taken me a minute to heal; I’ve had to move slower.  I see things a little differently these days.  I learned to not be so critical/suspicious of others.  And I learned that the best things in life are the ones that shine with love. 

When I finally left the hospital, it was the warmth and the love I found within my home, with visits from loved ones that lifted my spirits the highest.  Love is a powerful thing!  And I am so surrounded by it in many, many ways.   As we all are.  We are bound together by love.

I can go on and on about how barbaric and broken modern medicine can be, but instead of being negative and criticizing the profession, and in a roundabout way, those who chose that career, I think maybe it would be better if I simply share the positive information that is available regarding healing in general.  After all, pain pills are great!   

It is events like this that define who we are.  Who am I?  I choose love.