Things Aren’t Always as They Appear
I know the title is a bit obvious, however, it’s worthy of our attention because it’s more often than not so very true. On that note - here’s a story that I think is really interesting, and I hope you do too……
I really love being massaged and whenever possible, I openly seek the opportunity to receive great intentional, conscious bodywork.
Most of my life I have loved my food a lot and as a result have carried a few extra pounds. I’ve enjoyed every single one of those calories.
I openly, deliberately found a cleansing sanctuary in San Diego, California, which I booked for myself and my husband, to go to for 7 days, in order to clean up my eating and get a kick start in great health. I also booked a colonic, as I’d never had one, and a massage because it’s always on my radar to get one of those.
I am odd in the most wonderful way, and get visions all the time. Some I understand almost immediately and some are sent to be understood later on.
A week before the cleansing escape, I was sat by the pool with my family on a Sunday, when I saw a young woman in a black dress, huddled in the corner of the pool area, shaking and pale.
She looked frail, close to death and afraid.
My visions are no different from people that show up in real life. It’s just that usually nobody else around me sees them. The young woman hung around me every day for short periods of time.
My tall, slim husband drove us to the cleansing sanctuary, informing me of all he’d read about the cleansing process. I hadn’t read one thing.
I just knew we were going to have a good clean week of food and I was so committed, that when the hubby offered me lunch, I shook my head and snacked on a trail mix in the car on the way there, while he stuffed a big, thick sandwich in his happy face, while driving.
We arrived and orientation included the offering of wheatgrass enemas, drinking as much grass as we wished and eating only plain raw food.
I hadn’t realized it was so austere. I said “no” to the enema, and when dinner was a walk around a raw salad bar with no dressings or seasonings, no seeds or nuts or fruit, I was so hungry that I had to force myself not to cry.
The wheatgrass juicing room was stinky and I pinched my nostrils shut to go in and get my three times a day juice. To this day I still gag when I smell freshly cut grass.
The colonic was like having all the contents in your butt vacuumed out. It was a downright odd reality, that literally sucked, especially with an over enthusiastic young skinny therapist, who thoroughly enjoyed describing the contents of my colon.
Then there was the day of the massage. Yippee! Here was something familiar I could wrap my head around.
My husband stepped into his massage, while I was walked into mine. The therapist who shook my hand and introduced herself as Nancy, was all business, describing how I would lay face down and then she would turn me half way through.
I nodded as she began leaving the room, and as I began removing my shoes, thanking her, I called her “Pam.”
She turned to face me abruptly, and asked if I was psychic. I laughed, saying that, “yes, I had been described as that by a few people in my life.”
She asked me why I called her Pam, and I immediately saw the young woman I’d seen at the pool, in the massage room, shivering once again, frail, sitting huddled in the black dress.
I described who and what I was seeing and she burst into tears. This was her twin sister, Pam who had passed from complications with pneumonia.
Chills filled my arms and legs, and the clock ticked away my massage time.
She finally removed herself from the room, while I had a good talking to with Guides about it being quite nice while my body was so hungry, that I could actually get a massage, instead of working.
The therapist returned and I was guided to open her channels to help her to work with her sister from the other side, to provide great healing, for the people ready to receive amazing work.
She wept and dripped tears on my back, while she let her sister into her field of energy.
After a while of instruction, I felt four hands on me, and for the last 10 minutes of my massage, I finally received great work.
When the therapist prepared to leave the room, she laughed, telling me she felt she should be paying me. After the door shut I looked up, rolled my eyes, saying “no kidding.”
I knew her work would forever be changed and so would she.
That massage experience, like many aspects of life and beyond, remind us all that things aren’t always as they appear.
Blessings,
Ruth
Please share your experiences with things not being as they appear in the comments section below!! Your input is valuable and I want to create a place where we can all learn from each other and share our ideas!
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