I was waiting. We were in a big Salvation Army store, far away from home. I found a huge comfort chair near the entrance and sat in it. The pain was unbearable. I had to do something. I had my small pad, markers and color pencils.
The first drawing looked very much like pain drawings that I did a few years ago. There are enclosed forms, like stones, being shot out as if from a volcano, pushing each other in a progression that repeats appearing in the same places. And every center of pain radiates this crazy energy, where nothing works with anything. It just radiates and radiates and radiates. The quivering of the lines comes from not being able to control the quivering of my body. I try to make the lines go where I want them to go, but the push of the pain overcomes me. #1
In the second one the intensity had gone down and the pain, still intense nevertheless, concentrates in only a few places. Basically it is where the toes connect to the foot. In some places I can feel how it starts back in the foot. #2
The intensity goes up again and I try to be accurate in the description of where the pain is and how it feels. You can see that it has become more local, but very intense again. It does not radiate so overwhelmingly as before. #3
It becomes easier to look at it. The pain turns softer. It is easy to know where exactly it is. I am not in an extreme torture, though it still hurts quite a bit. #4
The pain becomes even less horrible, I start being able to be aware of other things, like the parts of the foot. Then, in-float the dark figures. #5
I decide to go into the dark figures. This will happen in a new posting to come. I also wonder about the pain itself. I have drawn it so many times. I listened to it closely. I saw it changing. When it started to be so intrusive I refused to make it into something that will stop me from doing anything that I wanted to do. But it increased in strength and persistence so much that I could not escape accepting it as a major actor in the drama of my life. I thought for a million times: Why do I have this? What does it want to tell me? Is there anything that I have to understand but it has escaped me? Where, in my subconscious, is the thought that has created this experience? Writing this last sentence now brings a stream of faint images to my mind and I stop writing for a second to pay attention to them. I see myself with all my sexual adventures in previous lives, escaping angry crowds, thinking about my life then, and deciding that I have escaped enough and it is time to stop running and accept the punishment that will come.
This kind of thought comes from a moralistic view, in which, if someone does an immoral thing, he deserves to be punished. This kind of thought ignores the fact that the action itself came from some hunger, and some feeling of “I want but I can’t.” This feeling is what has to be tackled and not the moralistic stance of right and wrong. In the kernel of suffering of “I want but I can’t” lies the key to my release. Even if I go along with the punishment view and allow myself to be punished, I do not resolve this feeling of want and can’t. See that? I need to go to the core and not to one of its derivatives.
At this moment I suddenly know, just as my eyes wander to the last drawing, which is open right next to me: The dark figures are my pursuers, the punishers. I don’t need to go into the dark figures any more. I know.
I also know that many people don’t believe in past lives. I wrote about this before. For the purpose of healing, here in this case, it does not matter. I have these thoughts and images in my subconscious. They are active. They create my experiences. I need to deal with them, regardless of whether they represent something that had happened or a fiction that my mind has invented.