Flower Bomb

It's been over a month since I've written here. I've been spending my writing time participating in Writing in Community where I am taking all of the automatic writing that has been flowing through me in my journal and pulling it together as a series of reflections and practices for deepening ones connection to the divine. Stay tuned on that one.

I have a back-log of pieces to share here and will post them in order, even though the sessions and/or meditations may have happened months ago. Today I'll start with a meditation experience I had pretty close to the last energy session I wrote about in The Orange Tree.

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I went into meditation and felt a sadness in my chest that felt like it had been growing for a while. I fell into Isabel, my higher self, and she held me while I fully felt the sadness. It was so heavy, like a cannonball. I wanted to dislodge it, but knew it had to grow in its full weight.

Once it grew to its full weight, Isabel and another guide pulled the cannonball out of me and set it on the ground. I wanted to throw it far away, but they said to keep it there. They blew into my chest, clearing out any residue that was leftover and putting in light and air. They then filled it with a mesh ball, seemingly made of light, that made the hole go away, both literally and in terms of the pain it had caused.

I looked at the cannonball and it was growing spikes, kind of like a coronavirus. I pulled away because I knew it was going to explode - and it did - but it wasn’t loud or impactful. Instead an array of flowers came out and were immediately planted in the ground.

It was a literal flower bomb.

I gathered some and put them in a vase. I wasn’t sure where to put them and kept trying places in my home, but nowhere feel right. Then I realized I needed to give them to my maternal Grandmother as a sign of her sadness being reborn into beauty and color. She accepted them and wrote about them in her book.