• Safa

Personal Story: In the Stream with My Mother

Yesterday my mum called me up “I need a healing session" she said I almost fell off my chair. “When?” I asked “Right now” .......

My mum fought the healing process hard. In spite of having made thousands of margin notes in her 'vibrational medicine' book, she remained sceptical. Even after seeing first hand how my healing work had helped my father she wasn't convinced. She attended healing sessions with me reluctantly, often skipping sessions or pretending to be too busy. 'Heat transfer for hippies' she called it. I lost track of the names I was called. Haram. Shaman. Medium. Witch. Crazy. It hurt me but I knew it was a defence. ........ Her walls were stacked so high they hid the delicate and beautiful rose growing alone in the rubble. When I met that rose and realised it didn't even recognise itself I knew I would never give up on her. On us. I used to pray she would heal. 'Drink one cup of ayahuasca and wake up' I used to wish. One day I asked, 'what if she drank?' 'Be the cup and let her drink from you' the voice said. I knew what it meant. I had to work on me before I worked on her. She was my greatest mirror. Mothers always are. So I began to hear her no. I began to allow her no and respect it. No no no. There's alot of power in a woman being able to say NO for absolutely no fucking logical reason except that she wants to say no. I learnt that. Good for her. Let's all say no if we want to say no. It's our right! One day I received a text 'I'm ready now' the text said 'Ready for what?' i wondered Then I realised. Shortly after, she started coming for sessions. We got into a weekly rhythm and then covid came. ......... I gave her a live distance session yesterday. 5 mins in to it: Are you there? Silence Hello? Silence What can you feel? “Nothing” . By this point there is a major reconstruction trying to take place in her body and it needed her permission. 'If you can’t feel anything you’d be dead. Are you dead?' I asked Silence . Here we are again. I thought. The place of numbed not knowing. the place of NO. We went back and forward. I didn't give up on her. But I made it light hearted. Eventually she broke the ice. 'My back' she said. Slowly she began to name the body parts that were being healed. Gut, stomach, solar plexus, throat. . After the session she sent me this and told me I could put it on my website "Hi Safa, just magic. After several days of great discomfort after eating, and even resorting to gaviscon did not seem to help, your treatment of half an hour left me feeling much, much better. Thank you very much. Xxx" I let her think we treated her indigestion. Some things don't need to be put into words. -------------- Today she texted me 'i need healing' What's going on, I wondered 'Ok, 7:15pm?' It took less than 15 mins before she was in the stream. I cannot describe the light. I have died in the stream but this was something else. Endless. She was just lying there receiving, as if she knew? 'Are you there?' i asked. Silence 'Are you alive?' Silence My mind flipped. She was receiving so much light that most ppl fight. The light that crumbles most men. The light of death! Shit what if I've killed her? I thought. 'Last found on phone call in healing session with daughter' post mortem report read. My mind was racing. 'She knows' a voice said 'Why do you think she's your mother?' I stopped. I breathed and expanded. 'Hold her like the great mother holds' a voice said I expanded and just held her. Unconditional love. Light was flooding through us. I realised we were both in the stream together. That she knew and felt perfectly safe and at home. That she knew all along, she is the light. ........ To be surrendered in the stream with my mother. I didn't think i'd EVER get to write that sentence. Today is the most important day of my life. I thought I was the cup she was drinking from but really, she was the ocean that I bathe in. I bowed my head. With my little cup.



All her life, she has bowed her head down to the ground for God. I have never known her version of God. 'Some things are not for the mind, they're just felt' she used to say, when I would ask her as a child.

Now I've finally seen her. She is not the Rose. She is the saint of all saints. She is HER. My work, is done. There is nothing to say except SUBHANALLAH. PARADISE IS UNDER THE FEET OF THE MOTHER.

And to realise that my own healing path opened about 6 years ago drinking bottles of pink gaviscon at my desk to relieve the indigestion that was actually panic, it feels like a circle has completed.


SAFA

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