Posted by Krysta Kavenaugh on December 06, 2006 at 10:46:50:
I was receiving a massage and the woman asked me, "What do you think of rabbit fur?"
I said, "It's soft?"
Then she went to her closet and pulled out a white rabbit fur. She told me a friend had given this to her. Her friend had been a heart transplant nurse. During transplants in the US and in Africa, she would hold the new heart and bless it and prayer over it.
The nurse had gone to a workshop, and as she was getting into her car, she said she had an intuition to buy Pat (the masseuse) a gift. She went in and bought a rattle. But as she got to her car again, she received another intuition to get Pat something else.
When the nurse went back in, an old medicine woman held up the white rabbit fur, and said, "This is for your friend."
She got it and gave it to Pat. Then later, Pat gave it to me.
I took it with me that weekend to Madison, where I was doing my Soul Solutions: Gently Transforming Your Life (systemic/family constellations in the tradition of Bert Hellinger), a very White process. During breaks in my workshop, a man, John, would start telling stories that were horrible about his life. I wasn't sure if he was making them up or not. It was very inappropriate timing, it was too heavy for breaks, he interrupted people and what he said had nothing to do with what anyone else was saying. It was completely out of context. No one was listening to him, including me.
After the workshop, I, being a White Life Force, realized he was needing someone to listen to him. An aside: When I was 19, my father died, my brother a week later, and six months later, my husband -- all instant, sudden deaths. When I told people that, their eyes glazed over, and I always thought something was wrong with me. Much later, I came to understand that it was too much for people to even listen to, much less live, and they "checked out." I realized that this was happening to John too, so I offered to give him two hours of totally focused listening. He agreed.
When we started, I told him I would listen to anything he had to say. He could tell me anything. He took me at my word. He told me the truly horrific things his parents had done to him, that should never be done to another human being. At times, tears were rolling down my face. (I wasn't sobbing or taking attention, but neither could I keep the tears from rolling with this story.) I was still holding space. But it was appropriate to let him know how the story was affecting me. I stayed present, I didn't check out, I held compassionate, sacred White space for him.
Several times I asked him to stop, and told him it was shaking me just hearing it, and I needed a minute to catch up. I let him know it wasn't him I was reacting to but the story. I told him, "It's hard to hear some of this, much less live it."
But I stayed with him, and let him know how awful that was for him to have had to experience that. I'm not sure anyone told him that before or truly listened to him.
When he was done, then I told him the story of the rabbit fur, and asked him to take out his heart and place it in the fur. While there, we blessed it and prayed over it. Then he put his heart back in.
He told my doctor friend that that was the most healing session he'd ever had.
John died about three months later. He was in his 50s or 60s. I'm so glad I could give him this gift, a gift of White.
Krysta Kavenaugh
HLS Color Communicator