Where I Meditate

5

IMG_7380I began taking meditation seriously in the fall of 2012.  I was in a stir of intense healing activity and was willing to do whatever it took to restore my mind, body and spirit. I was also told by three separate practitioners that I was dealing with a ‘spiritual issue’.  During a long prayer I asked GOD for direction and received a message that I needed to pray inside churches for 10 days straight.  Well OK then.

At the time I was seeing and hearing strange things.   While laying in bed at night, disturbing images and voices would impede my already delicate sleep state.   This had been going on for years but I thought it was a side effect of the sleep medications I was on.  It never dawned on me that these were anything more then hallucinations.  That this was a spiritual issue and I was possibly the target of energetic troublemakers was damn hard to believe.  However the more I healed, the more medications I came off, revealing my true natural state and leaving these very real experiences un-explained.

LIChurch1 I began finding a church wherever I happened to be that day.  If I was in Morristown for a colonic, I went to the Methodist Church by The Green where my Grandmother took me when I was a little girl.  If I was out on Long Island for cranial sacral, then I would retreat into St. Francis, dowse myself in holy water and stay awhile.  After real estate classes in Secaucus, I would dip into the church on Main Street and treat myself to some peace. Wherever I was, I would use my Iphone to find the nearest open church and get my butt there to pray for protection and healing.  Soon I realized that these quiet sanctuaries were the perfect places to meditate.  After I kneeled down and rattled off all my wants and needs to GOD, I situated myself as comfortably as I could with my palms up positioned to receive.  Then I quieted my mind and listened.  Surprisingly my racing thoughts settled easily and I was able to drop into deep sedating meditations.  I found myself sitting for an hour at a time, softly frozen on a wooden pew, receiving messaging from my higher self, receiving messages from GOD.

HobokenChurch1One day at the Methodist church in Morristown men were working on the roof of the chapel.  As I sat and meditated I couldn’t help but hear the banging and hammering sounds above.  I thought of my cousin who grew up in this town and  died tragically at the age of 27.  He was a chimney sweep and so the combination of the sounds from the roof and being near his home connected me to him.  At first my mind went many places.  I observed these seeds of thought without judgment.  Then the intelligence became more focused as a message was being delivered.  I consciously sat still to receive it.  My cousin showed me his mother and his siblings; an aunt and cousins I am estranged from due to deep family wounds.  I saw myself walking up the steps of my aunt’s house, hugging her and smiling easily with my cousins.  These ‘experiences’ felt good.  Cathartic.  It seemed clear to me that my cousin was showing me his wishes for reconciliation or maybe it was GODs creative way of helping me to process and heal these broken branches.

SecaucusChurch1After a rogue fall snowstorm I pulled up to find that the day’s real estate class had been cancelled.  Well then I was surely going to use this extra time for an open-ended meditation at a nearby church.  Not having a time limit always allowed me to go deeper.  Years ago my sister Crystal was in a state rehabilitation facility in the same town and I ended up at a church just down the road from the building I used to visit her in.  On Sunday afternoons I would travel from Spanish Harlem taking two trains, a bus and a long walk to get to her.  She was here six months and I visited often on the open family days.  Secaucus equaled Crystal times heroin plus schlepping in uncomfortable sandals on hot summer days.  Difficult, painful energy that I was ready to transform.

churchcryWhen I entered this church the first thing I took in were the colorful stained glass windows depicting various Christian scenes.  One window stopped me in my tracks and pulled me right in.  An image of a blonde Angel and an auburn haired woman.  It distinctly resembled a miraculous vision I had two weeks after my sister died from the ravages of drug addiction.  I sat down and allowed whatever needed to, to exit and fill my mind.  Crystal came through fast and clear.  She showed me how she had been treated poorly at home after I moved out of the house.  It wasn’t easy to take this in but for some reason she wanted me to know.  I consciously steadied my mind and body and allowed myself to be a vessel that she could fill.  Visions of my nephew filled this space.  The son she had to leave behind.  What I felt was intense and beautiful so tears ran in strong currents down my face.  Snot poured out of my nose but I did not budge.  I did not break the connection or allow noise on this line.  She was communicating with me and there was no greater gift.  Nothing more delicious.  Tell me sweet sister.  Even though it pains me to know, I am listening.  I felt honored.  This church meditation experiment was turning out to be no joke.

LIChurch2Where I am now is different.  This meditation sweet spot has shifted.  A good amount of devastation and stress in my life since the fall of 2012 changed my course.  I am trying to find my way back to these vibrant meditations but so far I have not been able to get back in this deep.  Maybe I am not supposed to.  Perhaps this period of time served its purpose and was just a temporary gift.  It certainly was delicious though and got my attention so I continue to carve out time to drop into churches, close my eyes and allow.  I dip my fingers into the Holy Water and rub it on my temples, the back of my neck, my third eye & heart chakras.  If I could bathe in holy water I would.  Usually there is at least one other person sitting quietly inside the church.  I assume they are praying to GOD for there is a need in their life.