Tears for My Tears

Feb 11, 2025

Lifetimes of trauma-healing work channeled into basins of tears.

Released from soul to soul,

Tears for my tears, tears for their tears.

Last month, I underwent a psycho-hypnosis session for Past Life Regression with a decade’s seasoned practitioner of the Newton Institute. What a wise teacher she is, as she shared with me how my heart energy seemed quite unforgiving or disinterested in remaining open to being f*cked with again.

Dejected by society relentlessly left me ejected, alone, and agitated. The spiritual care provider in me knows agitation can be a good thing, as washing clothes requires disturbing the connection fabrics have with particular bacteria, dirt, and whatever else should not be coexisting near one’s skin.

Agitated, I chose to slide from the couch to the floor, realizing I would need extra support from the ground, I shared with her. I had a weighted blanket with me and she searched her home to find some smoky quartz for me to hold or keep near. It was if my soul would fly straight out of my body, I had it shut-up so tightly, under pressure, Queen, like a cellar door to the basement before the tornado hits.

From the floor, she still felt my energy and continued to share with me what she felt from it. My forehead, felt dizzy, also fuzzy, staticky. My third-eye isn’t trusting right now and that makes it “fuzzy” as it swirls out of control amongst the options we have before us. Years of having to dishonor myself and my often correct choices led us to question ourselves and not believe us.

My feet began tingling along with my hands. She noticed and pulled out two books from her shelf. One she presented me because she had two copies, The Body Keeps the Score, and the other little blue book by Louise Hay entitled heal your body: The mental causes for physical illness and the metaphysical way to overcome them.

Hay’s little blue book listed the following for the tingling: “Neuralgia, Punishment for guilt. Anguish over communication.” The answering mantra to be repeated, “I forgive myself. I love and approve of myself. I communicate with love.”

As a soul in a body that’s genderfluid and trans masculine, I identified greatly with Hay’s energetic cause & prescription. I have been forced to live out of integrity with myself since my arrival to this earth in my family system, as a military Veteran who has seen combat and destroyed lives, as a (hu)(wo)man, not a god, silenced & diminished, while selflessly serving the world; I neglected my self.

Too many people have made it quite clear that I don’t belong here amongst those that do.

Having tried any and everything I could to fix me, I failed because there was nothing needing to be fixed except to return to myself, get to know myself, and know the essence of the Source as it intwined with me.

We continued to talk about forgiveness, of self and others. We talked about letting others live, understanding that my life’s lessons may not be those of others and I must leave them their autonomy to figure it out. In other words, I can’t force people on a path to healing…just as mine pushed me here and I couldn’t get started until it was felt it was time.

But the trauma in our DNA has given us a great tolerance and sometimes desire for this pain. I endured so much until the body and soul reached its max. Together they said, enough we can’t hold anymore. Channel this sh*t out; compost this sh*t.

***

When it finally came time for the hypnosis session, we asked my soul to please reveal a lifetime that I could learn from right now. I’d reached my root’s ends, as if I’d been digging up the wrong trees and working too hard in the wrong direction. I had nothing to lose trying this and was curious.

This openness led us to what appeared to be the 1800s, dirt under my boot-covered feet and covered wagons in my cowboy hat shaded sight. I knew I was Black or brown-skinned because I was brought to a scene when I was out of body, able to see me as a toddler standing across from my mother (the mother I have now) looking as depressed as ever in a dirt shack of a one-room home.

A Black cowboy in the 1800s, how depressing. This was the theme of his life, desolation, death, and discrimination. I had a small family but that couldn’t shake me from my own depression. For unknown reasons aside from seeking peace, I left my wife Sierra, and children and went to search for peace. It was if his mind and spirit never had rest.

I, as I am today, cried body-shaking heavy tears, flowing with the energy I used to cry as a child as I was beat with leather belts, tree branches, and the mental unwellness from my mother. The energy of no one is coming to save you and we don’t care about your tears.

My current body trembled as the psycho-hypnotist asked questions, and led my psyche away from too distressing moments. There were more tears than words until I was led to the scene of my death at 52 in my sleep, alone in the desert plains somewhere.

Upon my death, my spirit guide appeared to leave me with the words, “Take it easy (on yourself).” The world may be cruel but not all of it, and certainly not me. I am love and was sent to follow my soul’s blueprint of love, beginning with loving, welcoming, trusting, and accepting me.

Since my session, my body in this world still trembles in its core and I let it, and hold it, as you can’t rock away earthquakes. They’re going to happen no matter what sets them off, it matters little. The body holds it all and when it’s time to release, SNAP! The release of energy is tremendous.

I only must put safety mechanisms in place to provide me comfort, support, and love as it all falls into place.

The dams have been closed for too long and it is time to open the gates, rebandage old wounds that weren’t cared for properly, but cared for the best we knew how.

The last thing she said to me was taste your tears, reminding me of the many compositions that our tears can take depending on the reason they are being cried. My soul kind of side-eyed this comment because it felt like I’d drown under it all. But I imagine she is right as she was about most other things.

There’s just too many tears as they aren’t all mine within me. But they must be welcomed out. The pressure is too great inside and we must not burst again.