I felt repulsion when my wife recently suggested that we experience a sensory deprivation chamber together. I have let these feeling determine my behavior in the past, but this time I went further and asked why I felt resistant.
It’s 4a, and I lay in bed with one hand over my solar plexus and the other slightly above the navel. These points correspond to the 4th & 5th chakras. I follow the feeling of discomfort manifesting as a non-localized physical sensation, and they amplify as I stay present with the understanding that my physical sensation is the body’s way of communicating something important to me.
Within minutes memories surface of being left behind in a car as my father visited friends, acquaintances, and business interests. I hated sitting alone and waiting for what seemed like hours for him to return, I felt left out, isolated and abandoned. I know for certain that I didn’t like it. I know I accepted the moments of travel as the only connection I would have with this man and those moments of silent yearning were piggy-backed with long periods of anguishing solitude.
Why was I not allowed to interact with all these people or encouraged to witness social interaction, I had no idea, but I suspected the reason for my isolation was my fault. I felt the problem was with me and not my father and because of that, a general sense of unworthiness settled into my being. It was my experience that this subtle shift in my thinking prepared the ground for years of feeling inadequate and out-of-touch with the world around me.
I couldn’t live with that psychology and the many emotions associated with it and I gradually realized the only person capable of rescuing me was me. This morning, I succeeded in passing through my initial resistance and followed my feeling until the past emerged as vividly as I experienced it so many years ago. But this morning I rewrote the script.
Now I drive the car, and I will not leave him there, but like a dream, time and space are not bound by ordinary physics. We are standing in a space not defined by walls but rather a feeling; it is familiar in a dawn of a new day kind of way. Turning toward little Jeff, I asked him if he wants to join Larissa and me in the deprivation tank tomorrow and instead of cowering or hiding away he runs into my arms, feeling a desperate kind of joy.