First of all, I would like to iterate here that this is a true story and is one of the main reasons I appreciate the apology given by Kevin Rudd
to the Australian Aboriginals in relation to the Stolen Generation. I hope you enjoy reading how I experienced this time of my life.
My heart was racing a hundred miles an hour as I was slowly waking. My body was buzzing and I felt heavy. The tingling sensation around my being was
overwhelming, I must’ve had a very vivid dream I thought. Although I couldn’t remember it at that very moment, the physical effects still had me
shaking. It could have been the effects of ELF bombardment, either way, I was feeling very weird. I had a cramp in my leg as I always sleep with my
right foot on my left knee, and on my stomach with my arm underneath my pillow supporting the weight of my head. It took a while to get the muscle
It was quite gloomy for that time of the morning, usually it’s a little brighter and warm, however today was very different, something didn’t seem
quite right. The air was damp and also cool to the touch, the room seemed to have lost its vibrancy in colour, and there was a strange smell which I
recognise but couldn't remember exactly what it was. I was still half asleep. It was time to roll out of bed; 11:15am was a little late to start
the usual weekend routine.
Slowly stumbling for my shirt and shorts, the room for a split second filled with a bright flash of white, about 10 seconds later there was a
deafening roar coming from the far distance. The beginning of a treacherous thunderstorm I thought, better fill my lungs with smoke before it starts
I went outside and slid the glass door open; it was a little hard to do so as the rollers had crumpled underneath it a few weeks back. Need to get
that fixed, I said to myself. As I managed to slide it across ever so slightly, our cat bolted through the door for freedom. I forgot to let it out
for a toilet break before bed last night; she must be feeling really uncomfortable at the moment.
Sitting down in the leather armchair which I dragged outside for more comfort, I grabbed a cigarette from the packet and lit it up, inhaling its
luscious content deep down to the depth of my lungs. Bliss.
Another flash of light; It was very bright, must have been powerful and quite close as this time it only took 7 or so seconds for the roar to follow.
Another, much brighter and more blinding than before, this time, only 3 seconds. What in the world is going on here? That storm is going to pass
right over me. Then the show began.
This time, it was frightening; the deafening thunderclap was in synchronisation with the flashes of bright light. BOOM! I startled, BOOM BOOM, again,
the time between each clap was about 4 seconds apart. That smell started to get stronger and the air much damper as it was when I awoke.
I couldn't control my fear at that moment, the lightning strikes must have been right over my abode, and it had now been a 10 minute display. I was
petrified, I am going to get struck I thought. I ran to the phone to call my partner to see how long it was going to be before she arrived. As I
picked up the handset, the power went out. Everything shut down, including the cordless handset. I ran for my mobile phone, it was out of power.
Just my luck I figured, all the while the roar and flashes were getting more and more intense. At that point I closed my eyes and repeated over and
over "Nothing bad leaves or comes into me". I repeated it for about 30 seconds, and you wouldn't believe it. A streak of sunlight started to show
through a gap in the clouds above. The brilliant light display had stopped almost immediately. Time to get on with the day, I mumbled.
A few weeks later, I went to a Joanne’s place. She has a massive property on the outskirts of suburbia. It is so nice there, she has a tennis
court and indoor swimming pool. She holds many functions there for guest speakers on alternative topics, such as colour therapy, remedial massage,
and "The Work
". A process developed by Byron Katie which looks at self exploration. I had learned a lot of
myself through this, it was quite revealing to say the least.
The property was on old Aboriginal punishment ground. Apparently that’s where the old tribes punish their own for anything that was against
'Aboriginal Lore'. They aren't laws made by the Aboriginal culture, I was told, but its living according to the laws of the Universe. Before I
slowly starting to learn this, I was quite racist in this matter. I heard a lot about the apology that the Stolen Generation wanted, I always
thought that it was an excuse for compensation. I honestly didn’t understand at the time.
I slowly walked up the steep, winding driveway, it was quite lengthy and the small inclination started to make my heart pound a little quicker. By
the time I arrived at the front door, I was well beyond needing to get my breath back. I am so unfit. I knocked on the door, and Joanne answered.
It was good to see her again; she had been on a trip to India for the last few months.
"Hi! So good to see you" she said as she gave me a hug.
"Good to see you too Joanne, how’s things?" I replied.
"Oh I have so many stories to tell you my dear friend, but first, I have to introduce you to Aunty Violet"
Aunty Violet is an Aboriginal Shaman. She isn't part of the elders, although she is highly respected in her community for her healing abilities. I
remember many stories Joanne told me about her, one where she received a full body wrap with different coloured ochre to dissolve cellulite, and the
fascinating stories of the Dreamtime, stories passed down by word of mouth and also depicted in art of the Aborigines spiritual ways.
"Dreamtime is just as real as when we are awake" Joanne told me one day, reporting on her discussion about this with Aunty Violet. Now I get to
meet her myself.
She wasn't anything like I thought she would be. My vision of her was an aged woman, with greying hair and a stern personality. Seeing her speak to
some other people around Joanne’s outdoor setting, she was laughing and looked like a jovial woman. Her hand gestures and body posture gave a very
close description of who she was as a person.
"Violet, this is my good friend I was telling you about, remember? " said Joanne as we pulled back some chairs.
[edit on 16/2/2008 by Im a Marty]