Bobbing up and down like this.....

Following on from my earlier post, I completed part two of my process today. The Mikveh.

I don't know whether burning the 'shell story' had taken effect, or whether I was filled with pure nervous energy over the thought of going to a public pool and doing something odd, but this morning (as I said to my sister earlier) I was like a wasp on speed, zooming through the house getting on with things that I have procrastinated on for far too long. I tidied paperwork, I put boxes and things to sell in the back room, I put the rubbish bags outside the back door in to the bin, I did a load of washing and hung it out, and I filled my swim bag with the following items:

• Goggles for pre-meditation (and checking out the lie of the land) swim
• Nose clips (as if I am not drawing enough attention to myself)
• Shampoo, shower gel, hair brush and mousse
• Towel
• Make-up
• Mikveh meditation laminated sheet
• Carrier bag for wet swimming costume

Notice anything missing? No, neither did I.

So I set off for the pool and noticed various spinal twinges along the way, which I ignored. And then, when I was halfway to the pool, I very suddenly went deaf in my left ear. Oo, interesting. And then when I was halfway across the car park to the pool, I then went deaf in my right ear too. How bizarre.

"ONE ADULT SWIM" I shouted at the young man behind the counter, determined to see the process through.

So I got changed and carried my A4 meditation sheet, covered with my towel, through to the pool. It was busy, but not impossibly packed. There were two 'serious' swimming lanes and a wider 'dawdle along and have a chat with your friend' lane. Perfect. It was taking so long for these people to get from one end of the pool to the other ("over-arm strokes" are banned in the dawdlers lane) that I didn't have to worry about taking anyone by surprise as I popped up and down. Leaving my towel and laminated paper on the side of the 'spectators only' area, I went to the deep end, slid in to the pool (which was surprisingly warm) and did a couple of slow lengths of breast stroke.

And then I thought 'why put this off any longer?' and retrieved my sheet from the side, receiving a curious glance from the young female life-guard watching the deep end. Oh, so what if she is curious - for all she knows I could be doing confidence exercises, clinging to the wall by the steps and periodically disappearing.

Throughout the process I kept my focus on the sheet and ignored everything else going on around me. And nobody seemed to take the slightest bit of notice. So what was I worried about? I concentrated on the meditations, taking my time, stopping once to retrieve my goggles when they floated off the top of my head, and a second time to avoid a young chap with down's syndrome who was delighted to have swam the length of the pool unaided. And he swam it using a very splashy front crawl which strictly speaking, was illegal, but I wasn't about to rain on his parade looking at the smile on his face. Well done, You, I thought.

And then I left the pool feeling all light and breezy. My hearing had returned, the pain in my back had disappeared almost completely, and I felt - what's the best way of describing it - all smiley inside.

I even continued to feel all smiley inside when I realised that I had left my knickers and bra at home, and had to walk around the supermarket secretly commando...

Burnt up or burnt out?

I continued with part one of my recent 3-part task last night and was left slightly confused.

I planned to burn the paper in daylight so that I didn't have to worry about the neighbours, but I found myself skirting around the three sheets of A4 lying on the floor and thinking 'must do that at some point' and then I switched on the TV and before I knew it, it was dark. Oh well.

I decided that the best plan was to re-read what I had written to fully connect with it again, and see whether I could even muster a few tears - tears being the indicator that I was actually feeling something and hence making progress. You see, that's part of the problem - I was going through hell all those years ago (hey - I know I'm not alone in that one, so it's not a 'woe is me' statement) and I wasn't allowed to cry about it. Or tell anyone about it. I wore a mask in front of other people (nooo, not literally, why spend money on a mask when a paper bag does the same thing?!) and behaved as if everything was okay. In fact, I did anything and everything not to draw attention to myself.

Anyway, I was thinking that a show of tears might be an indication that I was using the process "properly" and was afraid that without tears, a miracle transformation could not take place. I didn't get the tears, although what surprised me was the speed at which the pain in my back returned - it was instant. Very. Odd. So then I 'stayed in the zone' and took the three sheets of paper outside, and after tripping up the patio step in the dark (oo, that could have been nasty) I sat on the bench outside and burned the paper.

And it felt good to burn this paper and I focused as I had been instructed on burning it from within. But it burned so quickly! It took hours to write this stuff down and before I knew it, the whole lot was ash. So I sat there wondering 'did I really focus on burning this from within? Did it work? If this hasn't worked.... then I am going to have to spend another three hours writing it all out again'. I stood up from the bench and nearly fell over with a huge headache - so what does that mean??

My headache remained whilst I cooked my dinner, and the pain in my back was stupidly strong. 'I have failed' I thought, 'it's not going to work for me'.

And then I thought again. Maybe those feelings have been burned away and maybe there is more to address - but if I wait until I feel 'ready' then I am never going to get round to stage two. I need to complete the process the first time round and then see how different I feel. And if I need to, I will repeat it.

I can picture the scene at the swimming pool... "Mike...Mike.... she's here again... you know... that funny woman with the laminated sheet of paper who bobs up and down...."

Fire and Water

Life would be so easy if it wasn't for the Ego. But that's the whole point. How can we learn and change without something to make us aware of all of our faults?

I could start this blog by telling you all about Kabbalah, about the New Moon of Aquarius event that I attended in London (with Karen Berg there in person, giving a wonderful, down to earth lecture on the energy of the month then leading a fantastically soothing meditation). I could tell you that the theme on the night was psychedelic - hippy, groovy vibes - and that despite the fact that I spent hours trying on different outfits to look the part, the only truly authentic seventies aspect of my person was my bikini line (okay, too much information, I know).

But no, I am currently more obsessed with my latest spiritual challenge. I'm carrying baggage. I don't want to carry baggage, but there it is. And for the last couple of months through the festive season, I stopped making the effort to connect. I looked at my Zohar every night and thought "I'll scan that tomorrow" and then never did. My depression got the better of me, thinking 'what's the point?' and 'what good will that do?' I lost my faith and I lost my commitment.

So I met with my teacher on Monday desperate for a solution, well aware of the fact that the only person who can make the changes is me. I did my best to calmly explain my predicament, with the intention of finding out what tools I could use. What should I scan? How much? How often? What should I be thinking when I scan? But before I could mention the Zohar, my teacher came up with the following advice:
Every piece of fruit has a shell, and when the fruit is growing, the shell grows first. If the shell didn't grow first, the fruit would be exposed to insects before it had a chance to grow. In the same way, every person has a shell which is added to by our life experiences. Our potential, our Soul, our Fruit, is always there, but can only be accessed by breaking through the shell.

He gave me a three step process:

1. Write down your 'shell story' e.g. every crap memory that is somehow causing me pain. Invest time and energy and emotion in recalling all of the details that you can. Use colour, use emotion, devote several hours to this task. Use the Time Travel Name of God meditation to help you recall information. Then take the paper to a quiet place and burn it, focusing on the intention of burning it from within. You are left with a blank piece of paper. A clean sheet. A fresh start.
2. Follow the Mikveh process which assimilates rebirth. Follow the list of meditations and go to the swimming pool (a natural body of water is best but not always possible) then immerse yourself (a total of eleven times). It works best when you are naked, although it is unlikely that you will be able to complete the process in a public pool, so a swimming costume is fine. The mouth and eyes should remain open when you immerse yourself.
   
3. Scan a particular portion of Zohar for one week, after midnight, asking for your true purpose to be revealed.

I left the centre feeling optimistic and thankful for having this meeting. It was just what I needed. And I was also grateful that my teacher asked me to tell him how each step of the process was going, because that way I knew I couldn't skip steps, take my time, or make it up. He gave me a week and a half to complete all three steps. Minus the week's worth of Zohar scanning, that leaves a few days to complete steps one and two.

But travelling on the train home, my sense of optimism started to turn in to fear. Firstly, there was doubt. What if it didn't work and I was no different than when I started? Well, I guess there is only one way to find out. Secondly, I knew that I would put off the process of digging up all of my emotions - it's not my idea of a good night in. And thirdly, I started to think about the realities of dunking myself under water in a public swimming pool whilst chanting Hebrew out loud. Everyone will think I am mad (okay, so they are not far off) but I also had visions of trying to complete eleven immersions with the life guards intervening to save my life. But I have to do this, and I don't really fancy explaining to my teacher what was taking me so long. My life is full of too many excuses already.

Anyway - part one of the process is nearly complete. I spent a few hours last night writing down all of my grievances and although it wasn't pleasant, I was so surprised at the little things I had buried that came to the surface once I really got in to it. And that has to be a good thing. And today I am going to re-read what I have written, get back in the zone, and then burn the paper (better to do this in daylight to prevent the fire brigade being summoned by diligent, well-meaning neighbours).

So I thought about preparing for part two, the Mikveh, and found a local swimming pool open to the public. I called them for more information.
"Is it just for yourself?" the receptionist asked. "We have half seven to half eight, and then half twelve to half one, and then again half seven to half eight in the evening". Planning to attend Friday Shabbat tomorrow evening only leaves the morning free to perform my public dunking.
"So which of these sessions would you say are the least busy?" I asked.
"Oh, the evening one", she replied "the other sessions get pretty packed - but I'm sure we can fit you in"
Oh great. That's just fabulous. Now I have an image of dunking under the water and coming up underneath someone doing the back stroke. The thought of performing this strange looking ritual in a public place is bad enough, but a crowded public place?

But maybe this could work in my favour too - perhaps I would be less conspicuous practising what could look like water confidence exercises in a busy pool, rather than it just being me and the life guards listening to my stumbling attempts at Hebrew....