defy gravity.

[Guest guest]

Caroline Myss explains why it's better to focus on what you really love

than to look back on your pain if you hope to experience the true power

of healing.( This is long, but really like the story so thought to post

it anyway.)

 

In Amma

ordinary sparrow

 

Many insights and experiences ultimately inspire a person to write a

book. Defy Gravity, grew out of my desire to share my observations about

the nature of healing. In particular, I wanted to introduce something I

have come to believe is absolutely true: Healing is ultimately a

mystical experience and not one that is generated by the force or

determination of the power of the mind. By " mystical, " I'm referring to

experiences that require grace in order to transcend the barriers of our

minds, which are so often weighed down by the need to know why things

happen as they do in our lives.

 

The truth is that when it comes to life's traumas or sufferings that are

rooted in memories of humiliation, there are no logical reasons we were

the recipients of undeserved suffering—certainly not ones that will

satisfy us. We can search for years to understand why we were not as

loved as we should have been or why we were abused but in the end we are

still left feeling hurt. Those scars, it seems, never really go away.

They don't go away because they can't. They are a part of us. They

formed us. So rather than seek to do what is impossible, we must strive

to do what is essential: True healing requires that we find a route

beyond our pain so it does not control us or cause us to want to punish

or control others. It's also true, however, that we cannot " think " our

way through an act of inner transformation, which is exactly what I'm

describing. This type of inner work demands we defeat our reasoning

minds and enlist deeper resources within ourselves, namely the power of

our souls. And getting in touch with that power is without a doubt an

act of grace generously given to those who ask.

 

When it comes to matters of the soul and grace, healing and personal

transformation, I realize we've shifted to more etheric subject matter.

So it's been my experience that grace as a force of healing is best

illustrated through a true story, and this is one that hopefully will

touch your heart as deeply as it did mine. I put this in the category of

a mystical healing experience because of the effect the interchange had

upon the daughter and upon me. Perhaps the grace of this story will pass

on to you and you too will feel for a moment what it means to " defy

gravity " —that is, to be fully present in the here and now of your

life, dwelling on love and not regrets. And let me tell you ahead of

time that as incredible as this story may seem, this is exactly what

happened.

 

While on my recent book tour for Defy Gravity, I had lunch at the

Ritz-Carlton in Philadelphia. Seated at the next table were a mother and

daughter. I learned through the fine art of eavesdropping that the

daughter had taken her mother out for lunch to celebrate her 92nd

birthday. Even though the mother was all dressed up, she still reminded

me of a lovely little hummingbird, so tiny and fragile. As is the case

with most people in their 90s, they no longer initiate conversation. So

it was her daughter who did most of the talking, and since the daughter

and I were practically seated back-to-back, it was impossible not to

hear her as she reminisced about people who had once filled their lives.

 

" Well, those people were bad news, Mom. They weren't really that nice to

you, " said the daughter.

 

" Oh, I don't remember that, " was the mother's response as she kept her

eyes on her lunch, reorganizing her salad with her fork. The subject

changed to the mother's sister, and though I couldn't hear the details

(as I really wasn't eavesdropping in full gear—yet), I then heard

the daughter say: " It's true. Your sister was no angel. "

 

Hearing that comment, I glanced over at the mother to see her response.

 

" Funny, but I can't recall those things, " said the lovely birthday

hummingbird as she kept her eyes focused on her lunch. Her daughter then

shifted the conversation to memories of her mother's marriage to her

father. Though I could not hear most of the specifics, it just happened

that I heard her say: " Oh, Mom, I could tell you stories about Dad,

believe me. You had a rough time with him. "

 

" I did? " the mom replied, never revealing her eyes. " I don't remember. "

 

" You sure did. " And just as the daughter began to elaborate on those

difficult times, this little hummingbird of a mother put down her fork

and made direct eye contact with her daughter. With the most gentle

smile on her face, she said: " I don't want to remember those things

anymore, Ann. Remind me, now, of what I loved. Remind me of what I loved

about your father. I only want to be reminded of love. "

 

That line not only drew the breath out of her daughter; it completely

captivated my attention. I sat perfectly still. I could actually feel

the impact that request had upon the daughter's heart. The mother had

shot an arrow directly into the bitter wounds that were obviously

possessing her daughter.

 

Now my eavesdropping on their intimate conversation was deliberate. I

had to hear the daughter's response. I had to watch her face as she

grappled with her mother's request to utilize her heart as a means to

access memories of love she herself could no longer recall. It was

obvious the daughter wanted to refuse her mother's request, but how

could she? This was her mother's 92nd birthday. Saying no was not an

option. I even found an excuse to adjust my chair so that I could

observe the daughter's expressions as she psychically allowed her

mother's well-worn heart to board her shattered heart in order to travel

back in time. Sojourning into memories in search of love instead of pain

was not something the daughter had anticipated. Love, after all, is the

most healing of graces. She took a deep breath and with a much softer

voice, she said, " Well, Mom, " then in a much softer tone of voice, " you

loved the way Dad used to tease you. "

 

" I did? " the mother asked.

 

" Yes, you did. And he always gave you roses on your birthday, Mom. Today

Dad would have given you a lovely bouquet of roses because you love

roses, " the daughter said.

 

" Oh, " said the mother, her smile becoming more illuminated. " I think I

remember that. "

 

" And you know that heart [necklace] you always wear, the one around your

neck right now? Well, Dad surprised you with that on your 25th wedding

anniversary, " the daughter said. The mother reached for the small gold

heart around her neck, touching it gently with her fingers.

 

" No wonder I never want to take this off, " she said. Then, this

exquisite little hummingbird of a mother noticed her daughter was wiping

away tears from her eyes. She reached across the table for her

daughter's hand and said, " Honey, don't wait until you're my age to have

to ask someone else to remind you of what you loved in your life. Be

wise enough to remind yourself of that every day because someday those

memories might just fade away like mine did and the memories I miss the

most are about the people I know I loved. "

 

By this time, I was wiping away tears. As I watched this mother and

daughter embrace, I recognized the healing handiwork of grace as only

grace could so elegantly and silently transform a conversation filled

with pain into one that lifted the weight from a daughter's heart. Only

the power of grace could transform a mother into the rare air of the

Sage, gifting her daughter wisdom from her soul so powerful as to

transform the whole of her life within the content of a couple of

sentences.

 

This conversation captured the essence of what it means to " defy

gravity. " In an instant, this daughter had released the weight of past

wounds, replacing them with the healing force of wisdom and love.

Ordinary words could never have accomplished such a feat. Healing is

indeed a mystical experience, and one never knows when grace will come

to call. I left that lunch having imprinted the request of that precious

92-year-old woman into my heart: Remind me of what I love. What could be

a more splendid prayer of reflection than that? And what a gift they

were to me on my book tour. I will always believe that being seated next

to them was no accident.