“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.”
~ Emily Dickinson
“Really important meetings are planned by the souls long before the bodies see each other.
Generally speaking, these meetings occur when we reach a limit, when we need to die and be reborn emotionally. These meetings are waiting for us, but more often than not, we avoid them happening. If we are desperate, though, if we have nothing to lose, or if we are full of enthusiasm for life, then the unknown reveals itself, and our universe changes direction.”
~ Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes
It takes a lot to freak me out. But last week, in the middle of Woolworths in Byron Bay I consider that I was freaked. Let me explain…
I was feeling ill, miserably exhausted on my lyme drugs, depressed and in pain. It wasn’t the best of headspaces. I hadn’t slept much for days.
As I whizzed through the aisles, throwing a few things in my basket, I saw a little girl sitting unattended in a shopping trolley. When she saw me she gasped, and her big brown eyes widened. Her face went bright red. I thought she was about to cry. I grabbed what I needed, hoped her mother was near, shot her a smile and raced into the next aisle.
A few more aisles over we met again. There was more stuff in the trolley behind her, but again she was unattended. Her face lit up as I walked past her.
“Hello,” I smiled as I grabbed some milk.
She reached out her arms to me, cute as a button. I waved goodbye and hurried towards the checkout. So she launched her super power. This little girl let out a blood-curdling scream. A scream loud enough to shatter windows and perforate ear drums.
As soon as I looked back at her she stopped.
When I turned away, she screamed.
“Do something,” a woman beside me said angrily. “Don’t just leave her sitting there.”
What could I do? I was already so disoriented from pain and fatigue, and that scream was splitting my head open. I hurried back over, put down my basket and put my hand on her chubby little leg.
She stopped screaming immediately and beamed up at me. She held out her arms to me.
‘God, where’s her mother?’ I kept thinking. The little girl stretched so far I was frightened she would fall out of her seat. I stepped up close and to my surprise she grabbed my face and started smothering me in kisses. At least she wasn’t screaming.
“Nicole?” an embarrassed voice said from behind me.
I half-turned, my hair caught up in fistfuls by the little girl. It was a client of mine, Susan, whom I haven’t seen for a few years, although I have spoken to her on the phone a few times last year.
“This is Melody.” She came and stood beside me, and started crying as she detangled my curls from her baby’s hands.
And then I understood. I hugged her and we both cried, right there in the dairy aisle. Bless Byron Bay – it’s a perfectly natural occurrence in our shire for people to hug and cry. Everyone walked right past without batting an eyelid.
Melody (I’ve changed the names here for privacy purposes) is a soul I first saw as a bubble of light in her mum’s aura, many years ago. She was all ready to come through, given any opportunity to be born. But her Mum was in a turbulent relationship, and uncertain if she was ready for children. For her, career was what took all her energy.
In mid 2012 Susan rang me, feeling very unwell, and I asked if she could be pregnant. “Impossible,” she’d answered. “I’m on the pill. And anyway, I’ve separated from Max months ago. I’m on my own.”
Months after that she sent me an urgent message via facebook late one night. More a confession that anything else. She was pregnant after all, most likely from a one-night stand, and with no way of tracking down the father. Her life was falling apart. Susan was contemplating a late-stage abortion, and she wanted to discuss the implications of that for the soul she might not bring through, and for herself.
This little soul, Melody, spoke to me, and said that she didn’t mind what her mother chose, because she loved her so much, and if it wasn’t the right timing she would wait and come through at another time. It was all okay.
Melody was so calm and loving. I trusted that too.
But I was deeply upset by the emotional state that Susan was in, and how very unsupported she was. I stayed up that night praying and doing a healing meditation for her and the little soul with her, asking for the best possible outcome and highest good for both of them. I called in all of the spiritual support for her that I could muster.
Susan rang me the next morning to say that she had found a doctor and booked the procedure. She sounded much calmer. I didn’t hear from her again.
So here we were, in the middle of Woolies, with the baby daughter she decided at the last minute that she had to keep after all.
Susan was up here in Byron on holidays with her daughter and her new partner. She’s happy, and in a great relationship. She loves being a mum. It has all worked out okay.
I got more hugs and kisses from both of them, and then I took my shopping, paid for it and headed back to my patient husband and cafe dog out at the ute – who were wondering what had happened to me to make me take so long.
Synchronicity – that’s what took me so long. I love the mystical magical nature of our Universe. It never ceases to fill me up, and give me hope and peace.