Scar or jewel?

Nervously I sat in the room opposite her. She looked at me with her penetrating gaze. She looked me over from head to toe. She would assess me. Give me a score.

It was the mid-nineties. She was a well-known medium. I had met her at a psychic fair where I was looking for answers to my questions. Questions like: “how can I protect myself from the negative energies that I feel so often, how can I become a lightworker (although we didn't call it that back then)?” She offered training to develop your psychic abilities, but you had to be assessed first to see if you were psychic enough.

So there I was. In that room. I really had no idea what would happen. I nervously waited for her verdict. “Yes,” she said. "You have psychic abilities." (That's what it was called then) “But it's just enough, a passing grade. Six out of ten. Fortunately, you have healing hands, so you can participate.”

I left a bit dazed. On the one hand happy because I was allowed to participate, but on the other hand I was confused because I had barely made the cut as having paranormal abilities.

I was at the very beginning of my spiritual journey. I had no idea where to start. I was completely shut down. Emotionally, but also with all my other senses. Years of fear had caused me to shut everything out, just to cope with what was happening around me.

Since then, I have experienced and transformed so many things that I no longer count this as the start of my journey. And yet… like everyone else, I carry every experience with me. Like a piece of jewelry or a scar. This experience, too, is one of them.

Last weekend, I was immersed in the Pleiadian Lightwork Training. While the sun shone in the sky, I had the privilege of guiding a group of powerful women, or I should say, priestesses in training, on their next steps along the lightworker path. 

In a group setting, there is always a group theme, and as the teacher, you resonate with that frequency. It sounds impressive, but in plain terms, it means that your wounds get triggered just as much as those of the students. The only difference is that as a teacher, you set the energetic example of how to deal with it and pave the way through the mud, so the rest can follow more easily.

One of the themes that touched me was "I'm not good enough to convey messages, I can't do it." This is an old acquaintance of mine. By now, I've made friends with it. It often feels like stage fright to me; the tension is part of the experience. If it's not there for once, I even start to worry… what's wrong? Is everything okay?

In any case, such deeply ingrained patterns don't develop overnight. They often have their origins in past lives and resurface through certain experiences, becoming anchored in this life. So when the priestesses in training were giving each other sessions and healing deep experiences, a memory suddenly resurfaced for me. I immediately knew that this was a significant cause of my insecurity.

I found myself back in that room, being judged on whether I was "paranormal" enough. I was barely good enough to participate.

BAM! There was an anchor!

I went back to that young Inge, who came out of the room and gave her a healing. That girl had shut herself off completely, and despite that, information was still coming through! What a powerful woman she was, and so clever, because she knew she had to do this to stand her ground in a world she didn't understand. It had nothing to do with her "gifts"!

And so, the scar of this experience transformed into a radiant jewel.

Because of this radiant jewel, I understand very well what it's like to work through insecurity. I will never let the fact that I have access to galactic information go to my head, because “who am I, really?” 

We all have our scars that have the potential to become jewelry. If only we have the courage and love to change our perception. It may take years, but the longer it takes the more beautiful the jewel can become.

You are a brilliant jewel!

Love,

Inge

P.S. For those wondering how the training in the nineties turned out: I started it, but I didn't finish. At the end, there was an exam that I decided to skip, as I didn't see the need for it. The medium fell into disrepute by the end of that year.