My health crashed two months after the Twin Towers toppled on 9-11.
I was abruptly catapulted into a profound state of malaise. Physical well-being and energy levels plummeted. Within a couple of weeks, I’d spiraled down from a bright spirited, multi-tasking career woman into an invalid who could barely make it across her living room without becoming out-of-breath and exhausted.
I felt as if I were hibernating.
Like a bear.
My life had closed in on me.
I ran 102-degree fevers every night for three weeks. Had little appetite. Accomplishing the simplest of tasks, like a making phone call, took more energy than I had to give. All I could seem to manage was lying on my couch for hours and hours in a darkened room, eyes closed. I felt as if I were hibernating. Like a bear. With scarcely enough energy to fix simple meals or listen to phone messages. My life had closed in on me.
I’d always been a bit of a hypochondriac. This time I was convinced I’d caught some hideous disorder.
A frustrating sequence of visits to allopathic and integrative physicians made it clear that no one had a clue what was wrong with me.
Since nobody could help, I gave up. Answers from the outside world were not available. I was entirely too exhausted to continue pursuing them.
I entrusted the responsibilities of my day job to a colleague and hired an attorney-friend to draw up terms for the sale of my business. Ready to execute when I’d regained enough energy to do so. All hope had been lost that I would be able to continue my demanding career.
Although I’d practiced meditation for years – even as a meditation teacher – nothing had prepared me for this profound plunge into the emptiness of physical and emotional fragility.
I DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO. I was virtually immobilized. And, since doing much of anything was more than I could do, I had no choice but to Give Up. I let go. Surrendered into Life as it was. It was scary as sh*t.
By December of 2001 – as the dark season descended – I, too, had entered a bleakness. Exhaustion was the watchword for this deep dive into Dark Night of the Soul.
Recording this account now, in the era of Covid, there is a strangely familiar tone to the collective gestalt. Yet this time, rather than being a solitary journey into the unknown, our whole planet appears to be taking a similar ride.
The excessive doing that had characterized my life prior to November 2001 had been replaced by an immovable beingness. Nothing was happening – except the deepest, anxiety-ridden restfulness of my entire life.
When a tiny bit of doingness finally reemerged, it showed up as something fresh. (In the earliest dark days, I’d canceled my subscription to the Wall Street Journal because it took me into a world whose energies had become too agitating and draining for me.) I had always been an avid reader. So, I dusted off a book that had been neglected on my shelf for a couple of years. It was called, “Healing with the Angels” – written by a bestselling author (who no longer wishes to be associated with this body of work).
I discovered that I had the gift of clairaudience.
While spirituality was not new to me by any means, this text was transformative. It marked the beginning of a road not yet taken — a heart‑centered journey into the depths of my Soul. My days became rotating immersions into … reading … writing … sleeping … reading … writing … sleeping … reading … writing … sleeping … You get the picture.
I discovered in doing the exercises from the guidebook that I had the gift of clairaudience. Inklings (what I now call guidance) started coming to me. Practical messages related to my day to day life, like “do this; don’t do that” – which when followed, brought an immediate, positive outcome. This ability unearthed practical information that helped me navigate my very limited life. Later, even producing the name of a physician who was able to treat my condition to wellness, another 6 months down the road.
I started experiencing what felt like being hit by a bomb — smacked by these sudden, energetic body blows.
One particularly terrifying aspect of my collapse involved the emergence of an energetic phenomenon for which I was soundly unprepared. I started experiencing what felt like being hit by a bomb. I swear to god! I’d get smacked by these sudden, energetic body blows to my nervous system. Out of nowhere, an ‘explosion’ would detonate – usually in the chest area, stomach, or at top of my head. This felt not only godawful, but extremely frightening. What the hell was going on? I realized much later that these unsettling mini-explosions (which continued for years) had marked the beginning of my ongoing journey into kundalini awakening.* Over time, these sensations morphed into something quite different – typically occurring only at night, waking me from sleep. Experiences of full-body buzzing, vibrating, throbbing, intense heat, pounding heart. Or, pulsing energy that felt like a super fast-moving river of light (often accompanied by nonspecific fear or anxiety). Nothing about this was pleasant.
(*Rewiring of the nervous system to hold a higher vibrational frequency.)
As if that weren’t bad enough, by early January 2002 a nasty head-to-toe rash had sprung up. Extremely itchy and totally annoying. By this time, I was feeling pretty damn afflicted. Some days, the depression was penetrating and relentless. Despair set in, along with bouts of gripping fear. My thoughts turned to shit. I imagined that nothing would ever work out. That I would never get well. And, that I would be alone forever.
Looking back, I can see the irony in that bleak assessment.