Vector8 Journals

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

A Dedication to My Mother

I love my mother dearly, she's always there for me. She's been a carer, bank manager, cook, cleaner, pharmacist, friend and, most of all, she's been my guinea pig.

For the last few years we've lived together on and off, whenever I've come across a new theory, or trying to master a new technique, she's been the one I've practised on.

When I was on the path of mind/body, I practised visualisation techniques on her. We did techniques to help her let go of her fears. None of them worked.

Then I studied energy healing and she was my first guinea pig. The moment she sneezed I would think, "Great, an excellent opportunity to practise." She was always cured.

Once I tried energy healing bald patches on her head to see if they would grow. After 24 hours her head started itching and a day later there were tufts of hair. She'd spent a fortune on trichology. She couldn't believe that by simply waving my hands over her head her hair started to grow. It was too much for her to take. We didn't pursue with that therapy.

Another time, just before I gave her healing, I had a thought that although she's is a staunch Methodist and loves Jesus' teachings, she's never had a vision of Jesus, at least never shared it with me. After I had given her healing she told me she saw Jesus, at least her perception of Jesus, standing by and it was the first time she'd seen him. At least that answered my question; or had I hypnotised her? Pass.

When I moved on to healing through prayer, she was the first person I practised on. She had sprained her ankle. I realised the truth of her being, prayed for her and she was instantly healed.

Though my mother has experienced and witnessed many miracles through me, she soon forgets. I can perfectly understand. If you're not constantly remembering who you are, you're bound to get into doubt. Besides our world-views clash big time. Yesterday, for instance, I said to her, "I've just read somewhere that Gods in the Old Testament of the Bible were extraterrestrials." You should have seen my poor mother's face! What kind of a daughter has she brought to this world? We had a nice discussion about ETs though.

The other day she called me to the kitchen.

"Are you left-handed, EJ?" she said.

Now that was a tricky question. I knew I was about to be told off for God knows what. If I say no, I'll probably get told off; if I say yes, I'll still get told off; but if I say, maybe, there's a 50% chance of being told off. I decided to go for the truth.

"As far as I know, I'm right-handed, but then again I could be ambidextrous." Phew, that covers all angles.

She said I put away cutlery and crockery like someone who is left-handed, facing the other way. Huh? I wasn't even aware I was doing it. She has her way of putting away stuff and it's opposite to mine. She may be right that I am a closet ambidextrous. I've now noticed I take cups out of the cupboard with my left hand and I sometimes put things away with my left hand. I stop the bus with my left hand. But I write with my right. Thank you dear mother for bringing this to my attention.

The last guinea pig session we had happened the other day. She was busy doing her crosswords which she's excellent at. She knows not to ask me for help as my response is usually, "What do you think I am, a thesaurus? I know I know it all, but I'm very selective about my knowing, you know."

Anyway, she was busy doing her crosswords when I interrupted her.

"Mum, can you hold your breath?"
"Yes."
"OK, I'm going to count to 3 then start holding your breath. There's something I would like to test out."

She did as I suggested. When she'd finished I said, "Did you have any thoughts while you were holding your breath?"
"No, I wasn't thinking of anything in particular."
"Good, that's what I wanted to know."

She was puzzled of course. I told her that in the space of God, breathlessness, there are no thoughts. She shook her head in amazement and returned to her crosswords.

It's been great living with her. She helps me to remember who I am and to stick to my principles no matter what. The irony is she's with the world and believes what the world says, though she has her moment of clarity. But she knows that I have my eyes on God no matter what and maybe she admires me for it.

I love my mother. She's been there walking with me on this "spiritual path." Most of the time she can't relate to what I'm about but humours me with my experiments. And I know she loves me unconditionally.

Mothers, who'll have them?

All my love to all Mothers,
Enocia