I made a recent visit to a hospital a couple months agoÂ to meet a brand new family member. Celebrating the birth of my first niece was all I thought about that day leading up to the visit. As I drove through horrible rush hour traffic amid heavy afternoon thunderstorms, I smiled and sang to music as if it was a beautiful blue-skied day and I was driving along a quiet country road. Normally I am the poster-child for the â€śdirectionally impairedâ€ť, but driving alone (without my GPS system, which I had conveniently forgotten that day) it was as if I was being guided on my way. I found the hospital amid the congested cityscape, maneuvered my way to the parking ramp, and easily found a spot to park. As I walked toward the elevator I had the foresight to consciously remember what level I had parked on and paid attention so I could backtrack on my way out.
These are not typical moves for me. Normally I am the one waving down strangers and stopping at gas stations every block to ask for directions, growing more frantic with each intersection I drive through and street sign I donâ€™t recognize. I am the one wandering around the parking lot, level by level, trying desperately to get close enough for my remote to beep the car and reveal its location.
But this day my awareness was heightened and I was buoyed with love. Step by step I got closer to my destination and my happiness expanded. As I tunneled through the lower level of the hospital, I thought of this little girl and the family she was meeting that day. I was in awe of the process, my friends who were now parents, and the new life they were embarking on. Yet, step by step other thoughts started popping into my mind as well. I noticed the bland and haunting color of the tunnel walls and the cheerful art that falsely tried to balance the creepiness factor that was beginning to curl up my spine.
I walked a little faster and emerged into a waiting room. A zen-style waterfall trickled cheerfully, but my body stiffened at the uncomfortable looking chairs and the people walking briskly past in scrubs. I turned another corner and was met by the smiling new daddy, ready to walk me the rest of the way to meet his little girl. We passed the reception desk and as room after room went by, my stomach began to grow a bit queasy. The sterile hospital smell invaded my senses, the white walls overwhelmed my mind, and all I wanted to do was run.
I couldnâ€™t figure out why my every nerve was crying for me to turn in the opposite direction and flee as if the building were on fire, when in my heart all I wanted was to set eyes on a waiting baby. As I had time to ponder the issue later, I internally asked myself, what did I fear? My main experience with hospitals had been during my elementary years when my siblings were bornâ€¦happy times balanced with the stress of figuring out a shifting family dynamic, but nothing to emit this base fear. I had surgery once, but even that didnâ€™t hit to the core of what I was feeling. I had experienced the deaths of grandparents amid hospital surroundings, but still, I knew that wasnâ€™t what had been screaming at me.
I decided to meditate and call in the source of this fear. It didnâ€™t take long for a flash of realization toÂ shoot to the surface. I was hit with the visual of myself as a tiny premature baby amid hospital surroundings, disconnected, confused, uncomfortable, insecure, and afraid. Of course, I thought, a hospital was my home for the first three months of my life. It was as if someone had hit me in the gut, but instead of reacting defensively my heart opened in empathy. In my mind I held my arms out to this baby, embracing and calming her. Together we let go of the tears she had been struggling with all on her own.
We all have buried fears and this one was so deep it had been virtually invisible. How would I have ever known there was a part of me afraid of hospitals and medical treatment because of how I came into the world? By paying attention to my instinctual reaction and spending time to uncover my emotions and interpret what it all meant, I have gained understanding and thankfully can take it all in another direction.
Also, I am sure you will be happy to know I did not, in fact, abandon my niece that day. The visit with her and the rest of the family was wonderful. I found my car, my way home, and in the end, an awareness of fears I hadnâ€™t known Iâ€™d been carrying.
How have you experienced occurences of energetic memory? Were you able to trace your feelings to the source and work through them?
P.S. I donâ€™t want this post to cause additional and unnecessary worry for the parentâ€™s of preemies. I am grateful for the care I received and the life that resulted from the system of treatment I had available to me. We all have life experiences to learn from and for me this one definitely held the importance of energetic memory and the power we all hold through self-healing.