In the interest of proper storytelling, it is proper to start at the beginning. Unless you're Quentin Tarantino, and I am not. But seriously, probably then, too.
Hippies. Bear with me. They are vital to the story.
All photographic evidence suggests that my parents were hippies. My mother survives and quite passionately denies this. But again, photographic evidence.
I was raised with a freedom of belief. I was free to believe whatever I wanted. My father died very young , I don't even remember his voice. His family was Southern Baptist. My mother was Bahai. Her family was not.
I'm speeding this up a bit, those are the points necessary to move on. Oh, and the Bahai's believe in a version of what I call the glass coffee table theory.
"Once upon a time a glass coffee table sat in a common room. Upon this table was etched the purpose, and origin of life, for all to see. But in his fleshly folly did a fool slip, and falling upon the table it did shatter. The pieces were claimed by men who could see the words, but no longer the whole. The pieces were scattered, all over the globe. With all pieces having value, but over time, growing stories all on their own."
I have to say, that is my own very poor paraphrasing. They believe all prophets are prophets. And by listening to all, a larger whole appears.
I'm going somewhere with this. I'm pretty sure of it.
So, hippies. Which, to be clear, my mother is most adamantly NOT. Hippies totally made me want to avoid the crystal, energy, chakra scene, man. Not because they were bad people but because they are a highly mockable demographic. I mean, it is easy to point at them and ridicule. Not nice, certainly. Bad juju for sure.
My mother went from tending bar, to substance abuse counseling, through college with a degree in mineral engineering, into physical training and health nurtrition. She created a... look, she's done a lot. But if you can't tell, hippies aren't her bag, man. So I always felt like, if I was up to what hippies were up to, I should maybe really look at that. NOT because of Hippies. Because of MY OWN internalised program.
That was the hard part, for me. Talking about things that I know would make me a target of ridicule. I didn't think that my friends would take me serious.
So, what changed?
Mountains of undeniable, rock solid, repeatable evidence. Piles and piles of experiences. Amazing and mundane. Constant reassurance. After awhile, I didn't care what other people thought, because the benefit to me was undeniable. So, I got over it.
See, part of the glass coffee table involves fitting these pieces back together. That is done by taking off everything that prevents it from fitting back together. All the extra stories that grew from each piece to help it make sense without the whole.
All cultures, all peoples have pieces to this larger story. Shards of a broken table.
Chakras, for example. Most people think of the Indians in India, but did you know that the South Americans call them "Ojo de luz"? That's "eye of light". Shamans have recognized "chakras" for a very long time, having SEEN THEM FOR THEMSELVES.
But for me, these very important aspects to functional energy would have been completely written off, had my ridiculous distaste for all things groovy gotten the better of me. I would have made reassembling my own coffee table impossible by eliminating a crucial piece.
It was pride that made me balk at energy work and compassion for myself that allows me to speak of it now.
I understand why people hear about Reiki and jump to disbelief. It's hard to wrap your head around, having lived in a world with people in it. We mock what we don't understand, but stop short of seeking that understanding. It's human nature to join the herd, because it's the shortest route to feeling safe. It also removes independent thought from the equation. It prevents you from being you.
And if you aren't being you, no one is.
And that's a damn shame.
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