by Angele Roux

Created on: March 14, 2010

 “I’ll count down slowly, just hear the sound of my voice, all you hear is the sound of my voice…”

After my breakdown at work, my therapist decided to try hypnosis, some sort of regression into my past as a way of working through the accident. I was skeptical, but figured we might as well give it a try as nothing else was working. My panic attacks were coming more frequently, anxiety causing me to freeze in a shuddering mass of nerves in the seemingly most mundane of tasks. The last visit to the grocery store lasted less than five minutes and nothing was improving.

I lie on the couch, resting my arms across me and breathe deeply, as instructed. The therapist continues.

“Your feet and legs are heavy, your arms are heavy. Your eyes are heavy, your head. All you hear is the sound of my voice.”

Strangely, my body seems to be complying and my eyes feel dry and heavy. All I hear is the sound of the voice, compelling my consciousness to remember, remember, remember… “Remember, and be…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am aware of a gentle warmth and comfort, serenity. Somehow my consciousness remembers this but in my being I am aware that I have come so far, since this time. My body is no longer heavy, but feather light, as though floating. I push with my feet and glide until I find resistance; my hands find my mouth and stay for a visit. I feel the vibration of All That Is, and hear that melodious sound, again. It is that sound that makes me stop, and listen, the sound I have heard for as long as I have had hearing. I push with my feet against the pliable wall of my existence, and the sound dances, accompanying a flush of shuddering pleasure. The sensation is followed by a teasing, deliberate movement to my bent knee, and I react to the tickle by stretching my arms to the limits of All That Is.

Existence is this, the sound becoming clearer from time to time and the walls begin to feel like confinement. Stretching my arms and legs seems to increase the confinement; now with every stretch there is an undulation, but I curl my head and shoulders into my knees and slip into sleep. There is only change, there is only being, and there is the constant rolling of All That Is. The sound from around is perfection itself, and calming, and accompanies a rhythmic sensation that I push my self into, when I sense it. All That Is enrobes my being, All That Is is my being,

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