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The Agony, the Opening, the Miracle

By Deypa Deyas

 

I was born blind into a family that did not want a blind child, and I was much abused. As I was blind, all my memories were recorded in full body representation. Over the years I have healed many events. Still, you cannot heal what is still deeply buried.

Late one Thursday evening, I was struck as if hit by lightning when my entire consciousness was filled with memories of being beaten and sexually abused by my dad from the ages of 2 to 6. I felt every detail in my physiology. It was excruciating, both physically and emotionally, as if the abuse was happening right then. Welts raised on my body and I was flung into a terrifying PTSD (post-traumatic syndrome) event for the next three days.

At first, all I wanted to do was hide. I was in so much pain that I wanted to die. Holy Spirit made sure the means I would have used were out of the house, and I could not leave.

I could not think. I could not read. Yet, Holy Spirit finds a way to communicate—in this case, It controlled all the music that was playing on Youtube. One inspirational song came after another: Andy Grammer’s “Don’t Give Up,” “Lease on Life,” and “Good to be Alive.” John Denver’s “I want to Live,” “The Gift You Are,” and “Hold on Tightly.” And many more. All day long. There were no commercials for three days.

Slowly these messages worked into my consciousness, dismantling deeply held beliefs.

To calm down my physiology so it would not feel so overwhelming, I tried using every body-oriented modality I had ever practiced. Nothing worked.

It was annoying to be in the A Course in Miracles review period in which one repeats, “I am not a body, I am free, for I am still as God created me.” I was yelling “Yeah, right!” The words were distant, unhelpful. This body was contorting, flinching, tightening, electrocuted on the inside, completely short-circuited as if I was being raped.

The messaging through music continued. By Monday I knew I needed to communicate with a few people with whom I had been working to bring light to this darkness. I knew contact with others would not allow me to continue to hide it. I wanted to heal. Contact with others brought me out of the frenetic event. Sensations and contortions remained, but now I could begin to process these events.

For another 15 days, I tried to figure out how to deal with what was still going on in the body and in memories. How am I to forgive this? I ruminated on the concepts of “allow and accept” versus “grin and bear it.” Did I have to put up with these sensations until they go away? I was wrestling still with: “I am not a body. I am free. For I am still as God created me.” I cogitated on all these ideas. What finally took root was the realization that I was still running away from my sensations – trying to shove them, stop them, soothe them. I could not run away. They were not going away.

While lying in bed I finally understood that I had to face the event. I felt horror and anger. I remember thinking, “How could he hurt a child like that?” And almost as quickly the answer came: “Because to him I wasn’t a child. I wasn’t anything.” In that answer, immediately it seems, I was shown a different perspective of a man who was so angry that he was lashing back at the light through me and simultaneously I received the knowledge that angels were singing behind me, laughing at the notion the light could ever be snuffed out in such a way. I felt some comfort, and my anger loosened.

Guidance came with my decision to look at everything. I could extend loving kindness to any thought and physical sensation. No matter how small, to each I would say:

May you be free from pain and suffering.

May you release who you think you are for whom God would have you be.

May you be peaceful and at ease.

May you live in this world joyfully, gratefully, and graciously.

I want you to feel you are loved.

I did not need to be perfect about it. Sometimes all I could think was, “I just want loving kindness instead of what I am experiencing right now.”

As I practiced, I realized that the only thing I could do was to extend love to whatever these feelings represented. All were coming up to be healed. This is what it means to allow and accept. I quit judging the sensations as horrendous. I wanted only what the healing would be. I treated each as if it were a child needing to come in from the cold. I just wanted to love.

The idea of “I am not a body, I am free, I am still as God created me” came easily now. I did not defend against it. I felt eager to greet this experience, letting go any sense of needing to be done.

Next was a horrifying recognition that I am the one who had allowed these actions of my dad upon this body to define my entire life; that I had allowed it to mean that I was bad, undeserving, unworthy, a “thing,” an “it.” I felt a deep sense of loss to life itself trying to take hold of me, and yet I answered immediately with: The Holy Spirit will undo all the consequences of my wrong decision if I will let Him.” I chose to let Him. It was freeing.

I felt increasing light. The body did not seem real now. I glimpsed the understanding of the body to be a communication device. I became expansive, touching infinite Oneness. I was so filled that everything disappeared. All pain was gone. My heart burst with love. For a while, it did not feel as if I was even here.

Sharing the story brought me to connect with everything.