This happened during my weekly Theta Healing practice with my friend Clara.
“How was your week, Tomoko?” Clara asked.
“Yeah, great! “
“Well, I was getting into healing techniques of Indigenous Australians. They are truly amazing! I thought that they have been in Australia for 20,000 years, but an article I found on the internet that says they have at least 60, 000 years of history. And one of my friend send me a copy of a page of a book, saying they were here 1.36 million years ago…”
“OK, Tomoko, let’s work on that.”
Straight away, Clara knew I needed to work on this issue, for some reason. I wasn’t sure, as I was rather excited about Indigenous Australians and their healing techniques, not nervous or anxious. But since she said so with her determined voice, I followed the flow.
So where to start?
I was remembering last Friday. I was at my friend’s office in Wollongong. She offered me a small room with reasonable price so that I could conduct healing sessions once a week.
I told her I became passionate about learning healing techniques of Indigenous Australian. Then I saw a sparkle in her eyes.
“You know what, I know someone who is Indigenous Australian around here.“
Amazing! My heart leapt with joy.
“He does ceremonial dancing for the council and is also a healer. Would you like to meet him, one day soon?”
He… The moment I found that that Indigenous person she was talking about was male, my excitement waned. I instantly thought that he won’t take me seriously as a healer as I am just a woman from Asia.
“We can start from there, Tomoko.” Clara started to lead me.
“Tune into your feeling from when you find out about the male healer. Feel deep, deep inside of your chest. Do you remember when you had the same feeling as this before? Was it this life? Or the past life? “
My consciousness flew straight to my past life. I was in the middle of outback Australia. The clear vision of dry, red earth with rocks and bushes fascinated me.
“ How do you feel, now?’
Somewhat, anxious, as if I was expecting something bad, but I had to go there.
“Are you male or female?”
I was a young Indigenous man, who was about to take an initiation (or some sort of ceremony into adulthood).
During that initiation, I became paralysed. I had no choice but needed to be fully looked after by the women of my community because of my disability. I was about to join an adult men’s group that worked for my community, and was going to be a warrior or a healer. I lost hope to become one of them and had to accept I was no longer be able to contribute to the community. I was allowed to live under the care of women, but with very strong sense of being rejected by men in my community, shame and hopelessness.
(Note: Australian Indigenous people are not warriors, unlike Maoris in New Zealand, and therefore my basic understanding of their traditional practice doesn’t involve any violent, aggressive practice, such as initiation that involved physical danger. However, I feel a strong need to do more research on this.)
“What was the next big thing that happened there? “
Another tribe or group of people attacked my community. I had, again, no choice but watched all my people, men and women, young and old, were killed, but me. For some reason, I was not killed and allowed to live under the care of those people. They looked after me very well with respect. I didn’t know why.
“Now, go to the last moment of that life. What can you see?”
Instantly I saw a big red rock and amazing night sky with millions of bright stars. I was laid on the ground outside, and someone lit a fire nearby. People around me, and myself knew this was the last moment of my life. We were waiting for that moment…when I left that life.
I was very calm and felt deeply fulfilled. For the first time since I was paralysed, I could thank people who looked after me and let me live, even though I was heavily disabled therefore could not contribute to the community, and more, that I was in the condition that needs some-one’s hand to live. Finally, at that last moment, I could appreciate what I have been given to me freely.
Then I started to think of what exactly had happened.
When I become disabled and paralysed, I thought I was rejected by my seniors – men in my community, who was friendly to me and expected highly of me as a new member in their group.
I realised that was not true. They didn’t reject me at all. But I closed my heart to them, making myself believed that they rejected me because I became disabled. The idea of them feeling sorry for what I became by them was too painful. The idea of still being the part of their group even though I become paralysed was too miserable that I could not take it, so I chose to believe I was rejected.
I also felt ashamed of being looked after everything by women in the community. In fact, I even felt annoyed by their kindness and smiles, thinking they were just feeling useful because they were looking after me, poor me! I was too busy pitying myself whole day. My ego blinded my perspective. At the same time, it was also possible that by thinking that way, I thought I could save myself from making myself miserable.
At the very moment of leaving this life, for the first time in that life, I realised their love and become able to receive their love full-heartedly.
The sacrifice, however, was too big. The life of people in my community were sacrificed in order to give me an opportunity to notice something that I needed to learn in that life.
From the subconsciousness’s perspective, I wrote that scenario and invited those events by myself. What for? In order to receive love and realise my self-worth.
Is this why I have felt it is difficult for me to receive love from others freely?
And the second time I was kept alive (by the people who destroyed my community), I realised that I gave them an opportunity to show some respect for my community that they destroyed, in some ways.
My last moment was truly peaceful and calm. I had felt deep respect and appreciation for the God to give me the opportunity to learn those in that life.
“What did you learn in that life? What virtue did you get? “
The virtue I obtain was Mercy.
What it feels like to be in someone’s mercy to live.
What it feels like to receive someone’s mercy to live.
This can be a challenge for our Japanese culture. Our culture tends to consider relying on others is a shame (because your laziness caused this), and having shame was too painful and you should rather die.
I heard that the number of Japanese people who have taken their own life has increased during this pandemic.
What does it feel like to be alive in this world at this time? What did they feel, when they lost their job and couldn’t afford to continue their life and chose to take their own life? Why couldn’t they ask for help from others, if their family is not near by? What did they feel? What did they not feel? Weren’t they able to feel they were actually surrounded by people who can help if they ask? Was being ashamed of not being able to feel themselves bigger than death? Could I help them? Could I understand what they felt?
Could I wear same the shoes like them and still save myself from taking my own life, if I was in the same position? Have I overcome the sense of unworthiness in me? This is very important because if I haven’t, how can I help them from their despair? (To be continued…)