Tools of the Trade

Tools of the Trade

During a one-on-one call, Savina asked me what tools I used to help myself out of my darkest days.

Now that really got me thinking. In those days, I didn’t have “tools”. I had no knowledge of what I was going through, and no idea of how to get myself out of where I was. I had only my faith and my instincts to guide me. To explain how I did this, I’m going to have to revisit my darkest moment. It’s a long story, so bear with me.

Let me take you back to the day of my “enlightenment”...

I was 14 years old. My face was covered in cystic acne. It was swollen and covered in large, purple welts. I had a couple of friends at school, but once that bell rang, I was all alone.

I was in so much emotional and spiritual pain that I put my hands up to my cheeks, ready to claw the skin from my face. I wanted to hurt that ugly mask. I wanted to tear it off. I wanted to feel physical pain that matched my emotional agony.

At home, the psychopath had her vicious way with me and I had no way of escaping. She was so cunning in her torture of me that nobody even suspected that my home life was anything less than ideal. I was an only child. What could possibly be better than that? Oh, how I hated that lie! At school, students and teachers alike tormented me. I saw the expressions on their faces whenever I passed by. I heard their remarks. I was laughed at, pushed, jeered at, and spat on. I suffered in silence, slowly dying inside. I had no safe place to hide. Nobody was going to save me. Nobody even knew who I was.

I went into the bathroom and looked at my ragged reflection in the mirror and wondered why. Why was my life like this? Why did I have to suffer? I tried to look to my future, but all I could see was the same, black, pain-filled days stretching on and on into eternity. Hope? There was no hope.

Die, you stupid, ugly, creature! Nobody wants you. I don’t want you. I don’t want to be you anymore. I hate you. Die!

I dug my fingernails into my face, but the pain wasn’t enough. I grabbed an old razor blade and held it against my wrist. Could I kill me? I looked into my eyes. Yes, I could do it. Do it! I lowered the blade and felt the cold metal against my skin. Nobody was home. They wouldn’t be home for hours. They were at a football match, and for once, had allowed me to stay home alone. There would be enough time.

A curious sense of peace descended over me. I was not afraid of death. Death was like an old friend. I’d visited death many times. I would be cleansed of this life so I could begin another. Whatever I was put here for, I had failed. It was over.

Again, I glanced up... and there, behind me, reflected in the mirror, was Jesus. My brother, my Lord, my one true love. I held my breath and looked into his eyes. His expression was sad. His eyes, so sad. He shook his head. I blinked. He was gone. I turned around. There was nobody there. I was alone.

But I could not shake that feeling. He was sad. He didn’t want me to die. Why didn’t he want me to die? What earthly good was I to Him?

Devastated, I put the razor away and went outside. If Jesus wanted me to live, then I would find a way to live, even if I didn’t want to. I would find a way. I had to. God was my true Father and Jesus was my true brother. Growing up without anyone, I always turned to them. I talked to them every night. I cried to them. I asked them questions and, in the silence of my heart, they answered. They never abandoned me. If they wanted me to live, then they must have a reason. I had no choice but to trust that they knew more than I.

I sat on the hard, concrete path, like I so often did, and looked out over the immaculately manicured lawn and garden. The early morning sky was crystal-blue and there was dew still on the grass.

I stared at a single dewdrop and watched the swirl of colors within its tiny, fragile frame.

My colors.

I didn’t realize it then, but I already knew the colors of my aura. I hadn’t seen it, but I recognized it within the dew drop.

And it was beautiful. So beautiful it brought tears to my eyes.

I placed my hands flat on the grass and felt the energy of the earth pulsing and flowing around me.

I “felt” the energy.

I sat up.

I “felt” the energy. I looked around and saw shimmering colors, rivers of energy flowing past me. I could “see” it. I could “feel” it. I could touch it!

I looked at another dewdrop and I could almost hear the music of life within it.

Jesus had given me a gift. He had opened my eyes to something I’d only been dimly aware of until that moment. He’d brightened my senses; brought to my attention the gift I’d been born with.

Tears flowed silently down my face and stung the acne. What a gift! What a curse! To be one of God’s ugliest creatures, to be able to see such beauty all around me and within me, but to never be a part of it. Such cruelty.

Surely this was not what He intended. Surely He didn’t bring my gift to my attention just to add to my torment?

I closed my eyes and let the earth’s energy sooth my pain. No. It was the beauty He wanted me to see – the beauty in everything, in everyone, even in me.

It didn’t matter if no-one else could see it. I would see it. I would live for it. If for nothing else, I would live for this – the beauty. I would be what He wanted me to be... someday. I would live for that. I would survive and learn to become the me He wanted me to be.

The energy, the shimmering colors – they would be my pathway back to me, to life.

My pathway got even harder after that. I’m not sure how I learned to put one foot in front of the other and keep going, but I did. I had to. I taught myself how to understand the colors and the shimmering rivers I saw all around me. Eventually, I learned how to understand me and the strengths within. Writing this paragraph makes it sound like I did all that in a couple of years, but it took many years. I’m 50 now, and I’ve only just scratched the surface.

Getting back to the “tools” I used: When I was 14, I had nothing to go by. I had no understanding. There was no “friend in need”, no mentor. Jesus and God were my constant companions – my only ones. I leaned on them. I leaned on my faith. I used my inner strength. I trusted my instincts. I drew energy from the earth itself. That was all I had. Faith, Inner Strength, Instinct, an ability to connect with the earth and the universe.

I guess I learned my lessons well, because I’m still here. I see and understand the colors of the earth and the universe, and I love all the colors of me. I can stand within the energy of the earth and love all that there is.

I used to say that this ugly duckling would only ever grow up to be an ugly duck.

But you should see the colors of my heart and soul. They’re so wonderful, so beautiful... the light of love that shines from within me is pure bright.

When I look around at people in the streets – just ordinary people – I see the colors of their souls. I wish you all could see yourselves as I do. The vibrant colors, the wonder of the beauty of the soul... My gift is truly a blessing.

My road wasn’t the easiest, but each day that goes by, I find something within it that I’m truly thankful for.

Love and Light

Heather