I canceled my meditation studio membership yesterday. I had been going since last June. Beth is a wonderful healer. Her guidance in those classes was more beneficial for me than anything has been since I began seeking help 46 years ago. I will be forever grateful. I believe that whatever we learn in this life we take to the next. If I were to die today, right now, I know I would begin my next life with the kind of confidence, loving heart, sensitive demeanor, trusting mind and patient calmness and a mindful surety that would guarantee a happier existence than I experienced in my first ten plus forty-six years.
And I know that at some point we just simply have to believe we are healed. That is what I realized as I sat in the early morning sun yesterday. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you are not,” said my imaginary guide. She had first taken me through my home, the one I built in my subconscious mind. She had me dust the carved, polished wood that lined the walls along the library. She had me polish the tiles at the edge of the pool, a pool that was carved into narrow rivers, weaving all over the interior, wrapping along the game room, kitchen, and dining area. I had designed the home in such a way that I could swim and float throughout, enjoying anything I wished to partake of while soaking in the warmth of the crystal clear water. Then she took me outside and had me rake the leaves along the edge of the yard, leaves of golden brown that fell from trees that outlined the view of the ocean beyond. All the while, reminding me that I was healed.
I rose from my time in the sun with compounded confidence. I truly felt healed, and anything I did after this, anything that included more healing, would only be an investment that produced diminishing returns. It was time to be the real me, the one that grabs life by the balls and makes it what I want of it. A real me that was now so much better than the real me before, one full of love, understanding, sensitivity, trust, patience, and above all, unbounded confidence.
I am forever grateful.
Chris Plante
November 17, 2018