I felt the nudge to text my friend in Hawaii. I could hear her laugh through the ethernet. “Your ears must have been burning!” she replied. I asked if she was okay and she said the kumu had just said I need your dancing hands and there was a message for you. I got it! I texted back I would work via Skype with her as soon as we both could. So yesterday my heart opened wider as I heard the aloha of one of Hawaii’s most beloved kapuna who I’ll just call, as many on her island do, Mama Aina (Hawaiian for Mother Earth). After we did our brief hellos I set right to the dancing hands as she’d been waiting for a long time for our session, as another sistah needed more time than scheduled in today’s roster. She understands aloha time and had already felt the energy streaming in like ka la. The talk dropped away as my hands began to clap and drum for a solid 30 min. Her body shook, danced, arms swung madly, then settled. She came in and out of the computer camera as the rhythms became more and more complex. She went with it.
This movement was natural to her though she said if we had a circle in person she’d be the shy one dancing next to the wall. This immediately dropped away. She went in quickly and dove deep into the pure Source tide.
To me, with the cadence of the drumming and the tone of the sacred, it felt like an ancient initiation/reawakening of her roots from the beginning of time, but I could barely hold that thought as the next segment of drumming/clapping with snapping for punctuation in between began. It was deep, soulful, powerful, each rhythm building to the next. Then my hands drummed in a crescendo to a magnificent close. There had been, yes, this first solid 30 minutes, then strong, single claps, followed by what seemed like a circle of sound each adding their single clap up this pole to the divine. A vote of the kumu, the teachers, the elders. A vote of yes, yes, yes, yes… so many giving their clap of yes. Unanimous. Gold light ran through all and Mama Aina was rooted with heaven on earth. As she once was, she was again and always will be.
Next, my hands settled below my ribs on her/my liver. An operation of some sort was at hand. She’d said she’d nearly died last year. Her belly had swollen painfully. It was better now, but … concerning. My hands worked quickly around the area, the colors that rose were bright pink and deep red. She said she’d seen that, too, but didn’t like it before because it looked like blood. I saw it more like art. Georgia O’Keefe. Remember, everything from this perspective is perfect. I mentioned nothing of the Southwest icon because straight away my hands began drumming all over this tender, southwesterly spot — drumming with my fists. Not comfortable, but activating and purposeful. They moved up around the breast and back under. Again, strong, almost painful pummeling, but breaking up the “brush” or “overgrowth.” The sound of the fists beating, beating, beating… sounded like a helicopter.
I asked, “Did something happen in a helicopter?” Her mouth fell open. “Were you in a helicopter?” I asked shyly, scared I was guessing and had guessed incorrectly rather than listening to pure Source. Why would I say something like that, I wondered to myself? Because of the sound of my fist beating back/on the “overgrowth” or “brush?”
“Yes,” she replied. “In Vietnam my friend died in front of me inside the helicopter. She’d taken a bullet for me and she died with me…there.” I could see it. She explained they weren’t even there in “Nam to fight, that they were simply tagging the dead to ship them back and they’d been ambushed. Her friend had thrown herself in front of the fire for her.
“You’ve been carrying this under your wing for a long time.” As a mother I know that for years I could only sleep if my babies were under my wing. She tucked this lifesaver and her friend whose name was made of the stars under her wing, too. “It’s made you very protective.”
She agreed. She was fiercely protective of her grandson. “But this “wound” has migrated under your ribs, ” I saw and shared. I realized my left hand was holding thumb to index finger out from the body as if I held a thin silver chain. “What am I holding?”
She replied, “A pendant. I held her pendant over her wound to try and heal her. It’s what we do.” She explained a traditional form of healing.
“Where is it now?”
“I threw it in the ocean after she died.” Her lilt dipped into melancholy.
“I’m still holding one,” I answered, showing her my hand hadn’t budged an inch.
“I still have mine.”
“I see. It’s time to use yours to heal you. She saved you because she knew it was your Destiny to help heal the aina and the Hawaiian people by returning Earth to its natural balance, which will, in turn, help heal the Hawaiians.”
She laughed. “She was crazy. I loved her so much.”
“Yeah,” I could see that, too. “And you’ll honor her by not hiding your healing abilities anymore. You can’t be afraid of your heritage any longer. This is in you. This gift is good. This gift is of the light – only of the light. You have to get better to finally use your healing gifts to your highest capacity. All hands on deck.” Then I heard and repeated to her, “You’re being called back to duty. We need you. There is too much work to do. It’s not a hierarchy of healers any more. No one is better than another. It’s a circle, we’re spreading out, and we need everyone working now. There’s no time to waste.”
She nodded.
“How’s your tummy?” I then asked as my hands vigorously began rubbing my abdomen all over.
She reached down and touched her own belly beneath the frame of my computer. “My ribs are back!”
“Good?” I asked, not quite knowing what she meant.
“My ribs are back. They’ve been pushed out about two inches all these years and now they’re even!” She laughed, surprised.
Louise Hay suggests this affirmation when detoxing the Liver whose function is to purify the blood which pumps through the heart and body, “I choose to live through the open space in my heart.” Now that her friend’s bullet was dislodged from where it had migrated and dissolved in the drumming awake of her most ancient destiny to heal and be healed, she now has more space for this rib cage whose job is protecting the heart to lie in perfect alignment. Just like her. Perfect. Alignment.
There was more to the session, but that’s enough for me to share now. My friend and I talked again about 45 min. after the session — I was to go pick up Violet from school — it was brief – just for me to say that I want to follow up with her later, but how was she since I had to get off the phone quickly after our session. She said she was absolutely amazed, that she’s not a crier — that for a long time in her life, maybe since the war, she’s simply not cried much, but she’d been crying for at least a half hour. Tears were just pouring and pouring down, she said. “But I feel lighter now. Better. I really feel as if my feet are not touching the ground. I just need to be with this for a while.
I agreed. Me, too.
Our Vets carry so much in their hearts and though we couldn’t possibly understand what they’re going through, what a gift for me to see my friend finally have relief. May we all be purified by the pure Source cleansing tide of tears and laughter. May we all realize the sweetness which is always here for us.
In my world I believe in paying our gifts and overflow forward. Every Thursday I have day where you can pay $34 for a session. Pay it Forward Fridays are for if you’d like to treat a loved one or even a stranger the gift of the dancing hands. Please write to me via Suzi at angel@old2.janesibbett.com and we’ll see how the YOUniverse conspires for the whole world rising in this glorious tide of sharing from the heart.
Mahalo and wildest aloha to you all,
~Jane
