This sentence is my fourth attempt to put into a common and sequential language an unfolding story which is in its flow, not yet formed and certainly not of this earth...last year during one of pi's trainings, I allow myself to die with joy in my heart, initiating a death and birth vision where I am part of a tribe in worship to the sun god. My feet spontaneously & rhythmically stamp on the ground, expressing love and reverence for a solar deity with whom my life revolves. A reversion begins, carrying me through the birth canal and I am unable to discern my direction; am I returning to the divine womb or being birthed onto the floor? Both seem to be simultaneously true.
In these last weeks, the psycho-archeology which is my innerdance research is gently uncovering through the sands of time, forgotten wisdom. During a breathwork session with a dear friend, my hand shoots up in the air and my right index finger points with a purpose of its own towards the sky and the sun; it then begins to move around in its own consciousness for about 20 minutes or so. To my untrained and closed eyes, it looks and feels like my finger is writing something backwards. My friend tiptoes over to me and whispers 'looks like your light language is shining through'.
This intrigues me as my assumption was that light language was purely a verbal phenomenon which I did not/could not channel. With this switching on, I began to pay greater attention to the drawings and doodles I create. During my radio show, when talking with guests, I sit with pen and paper and my hand and pen swirl around the page, creating symbols and images as unique as the wonderful people I am listening to. I begin to wonder if this is an expression of energy and how I channel light language? I attend an immersive innerdance training and Mary Magdalene retreat and spontaneously create images which then arise & unfold in my subsequent innerdance dreams; this shifts my understanding that my 'drawings' are my clairvoyant channeling of what is present within the energetic field. Have I always done this?
Throughout my week away, when I lie down and yield to innerdance consciousness, my arm shoots up or unfurls like a fern leaf, as my right index finger points upward for several minutes before its process begins. My dreams inform me that I am scribing vibrations and electrical currents, receiving and recording all information through the antenna of my digit, clairaudience and clairsentience making themselves known.
We have the exquisite opportunity to innerdance throughout the night. This is by far the best slumber party of my life and I lucidly journey for over 7 hours. Within the first 30 minutes, as energy begins to awaken, my arm shoots up, finger furiously scribbling away. My finger begins to turn in on itself, pointing at and tapping my third eye with vigour. I continue inscribing, catching my skin with my long nail, bringing forth a memory of me as a newborn baby, scratching and scribing away at my third eye. My parents mistook this behaviour for childhood eczema, thwarting my sacred efforts by swaddling my hands with little mits in an attempt to protect me from hurting my forehead. I am a response-able baby and I start to write on my forehead with my flat palm, using the friction of the woolen material to create the electrical charge necessary for contact to be made and felt.
Awash with more memories, I remember I sleep on my hands so they won't receive and transmit when I sleep. I recall the creative ways I supported my right finger to secretly scribe in school and at home; I would pick the skin at the top of my finger to create an apex so when I would record energy, the skin would make a scratching sound, transforming my clothing into papyrus.
I attend conscious breathing sessions and my whole brain lights up. I see light inside of me, flashing inside my skull before I am awash with electricity. I am in seizure, captured by the juice and voltage running through my systems. My hand goes up, finger inscribing, in inexhaustible service to the sun god for over an hour. My whole body becomes the pen, contorting as currents sweep through. In a gentle breath session, I see the sands of deep desert time slowly blow away to reveal my toes; in the next moment, I see my father's toes touching mine. This is the first time since his death over 23 years ago that I have felt him. This breath work is taking my breath away.
I walk over to the main hall so I can draw the image but divine intelligence has other ideas. My breath is vibrating, turning my legs to jelly. I need to lie down immediately. as I recline in foetal position, tucking my hands inward, electricity floods me, reviving my lungs. This could be mistaken for a panic attack yet I am completely at ease and in trust. I understand my body is releasing and reclaiming every breath held back and down throughout my life. The breath continued to come in waves; I am breath, I am flow, I am sobbing grief.
On the last night, I turn my light off, roll onto my side and my hands and immediately my third eye blasts open. I am awash with thousands of images hurtling through me. I am adrenalised, heart pumping, whole body shaking. I have no idea what is happening to me. After 20 minutes or so, ( i have no sense of time), the process ebbs into an echo and I fall into a deep sleep. I awaken to pictures on my phone of the northern lights. Although I did not see them with my eyes, I became them in my bed. It was an intense experience which continues to flare through me.
One week later, I attend a retreat where I have the honour of moving, sounding and worshipping at Roslyn Chapel. This particular sacred site holds reverence in my body as my cells whisper to earlier times when I am a priestess of sound in this space. We descend to the lower chapel and lie down under a technology called Pandora Star. She is a flickering light device who stimulates altered states of consciousness (she is so much more than that). Supported by channelled song, codes and singing bowls, I enter a psychedelic dimensionality, journeying with colours and sacred geometry; I see mountains and caves made with skeletons and as I move inside these temple spaces, an electrical current ignites within my temporal lobe and I begin to make sounds which make no sense in English. I am aplified as a stream of language flows through me in what feels like the speed of light. I cannot stop this, even if I wanted to. My finger points upward, in concert with these sounds.
Clarity meets me at the top of the stairs, I am to work with Pandora Star and it feels as though we have always been working together in some way or another. I contact the creator and within one week, Pandora Star is sitting at my altar; we are energetically uniting before I plug us both in.
Light language is a common experience awakened through the innerdance process and many other spiritual and energetic practices. My understanding is that when parts of the temporal lobe are enlivened, we can access non-linear language which has no agreed upon alphabet or symbology but one which is steeped within the intelligence of dna coding. This language in its muti-faceted expressions is a sacred geometry, pointing to stars and systems beyond our immediate universe.
A new, old path is illuminating and unfolding before my third eye and I foresee the sacred techonology of innerdance and Pandora Star interweaving harmoniously. The next months require deeply intimate and respectful research as Pandora and I [re]acquaint ourselves with each other and I am excited for when I open therapeutic space for others who are called to the light which loves them. In awe of the abundance of channelling and flow within these last weeks, I am intentionally and consciously choosing to become fluent in my father tongue. I had always assumed that language to be Greek and now I am being shown that it is the language of breath and light which I have forgotten and need to return to. I hope to meet you there.
