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“Yes, so what do you see now?”
Since I had yet to open my eyes, I was about to reply, but then it dawned on me. “Fear.”
“Yessss,” he celebrated quietly. “And what has that fear done for you?”
My eyes opened to see me on the ground. “Brought me to my knees.” The epiphany had fresh air rushing into my lungs.
When I say epiphany, I mean weight melted from my shoulders. My hands lifted from the ground, and I realized I had moved away from where I had just been. My eyes didn’t search for who had been speaking to me. It no longer mattered to me.
As if pleased, he asked, “Why is that?”
A serene calm had blessed me. “What you ‘want’ me to see isn’t who you truly are.”
My eyes closed. At that moment, I could feel so much around me. In a trance, I soaked it in, no fear present.
“You are being more.” In a respectful tone, he said, “Let’s continue.”
I froze, suddenly seeing the night Rya and I were attacked by the Hell Furies MC.
He quickly asked, “And what has fear done for you so far?”
I took a long and deep breath, reclaiming the peaceful calmness.
“Well done. Let’s continue.”
Now in the woods, unafraid, everything felt different than it had while living it. Yet one thing remained the same... I was following Rya.
From the prior night’s phone call, Dio’s voice echoed, “Your beacon.”
Then, slow-paced images gently flowed through me, giving me an understanding of what each event meant. No longer afraid, each event now held different meanings, or at least ones beyond what I had first believed.
The first imagery was of myself as a little boy, searching the woods next to grandma’s for something to distract my overwhelmed mind. I had been so sad during those years of abuse… But now viewing that time, I could see, clear as day, a brave soul searching for what it had been told it was time to find.
On my knees, my human form filled with peaceful awareness. I exhaled in relief, now seeing a path straight to her light.
The abuse by grandma—a soul who had lost its way as much as it had hurt and made me more alone than some can withstand—led me to the tools I needed to become who I am today.
“Do you still see pain? Feel the hurt?” asked the man who was teaching me so much.
“Only for what it truly is.”
“Good. Let’s continue.”
In this imagery, I was even younger, standing outside the church where we were holding Tiny Cherry’s funeral service. At Mystical Myths.
The man chuckled. “Coincidence?”
I smiled, ever so grateful. “No.”
About to enter her service, I was hesitant, asking, “Are there lies in there, Dio?”
He bent down behind me. “Some take advantage of precious words, yes, but church can be a place to feed a hungry soul.”
“I was hungry.”
“And found ‘food’ for your soul,” the man agreed.
My head leaned back, my chest expanding. “Rya.”
