200 miles offshore
I was on edge at my first offshore job as a cook. I didn’t know the expectations and protocols. So I just watched and listened to what was said, learning the lingo. I allowed my confidence and personality to shine and steered my way through a routine living on the boat. Days washed in and out, never knowing what day was what.
The personalities of an all-male crew, and being heard and speaking up, all pushed my buttons while floating around on the Indian Ocean. No matter what went on in the ship with the men, I knew deep in the bowels of the the earth I was supposed to be there.
Once I was in a routine on the boat and had more time to play, I started calling from my heart to the ethers for connection — asking if there are oil devas.
The first time I meditated and visualised going down into the well shaft, I had no inclination of how deep I went. All I know it was phenomenally deep. What I found interesting was how young this well felt. I felt I was in a big cavan. It felt like a womb — warm, homey. I could sense the sides of this womb with tunnels of veins going off at different places. I felt like I was in a thick liquid. It was black total blackness. (Na Poi)
It felt like my joints in my body were getting oiled — such a feeling of home. I saw an image with my inner eye: a, slick, bright, black shining image like a being in a dominatrix latex costume. I leapt from my heart to my head in seconds as I felt my fear come up in me. I associated the latex with dark sexual bondage. I pulled myself away, out of my heart out of the meditation.
For the next 3 days I thought about what dark sexual bondage meant to me. It meant total fear — being controlled and trapped. I felt death.
I retracted my energy from the crew on the boat and kept to myself as much as I could, internalising and mulling over this dark heavy energy within myself. It felt like thick, black tar. I reminded myself to breathe deep, deep into my lungs. I got on the stepper and pushed my physical body no matter how tired I was, I surrendered and relinquish.
I meditated down the well again and focused on sending love through my heart chakra into the womb of blackness. I burst into tears at the overwhelming feeling of grief, total grief — so much grief of the take, take, taking of oil. It was a feeling of no respect, no gratitude for the oil taken. No one asked permission to penetrate her or take the oil.
The sadness and grief from this energy was so overwhelming. I felt the tears rolling over my eyelids and down my face as I focused on breathing and sending energy of love from my heart into this space. This space had changed. I had changed, it was more of a feeling of sweetness. I felt softer and more in my body and relaxed.
During the weeks that followed, every time I tuned into this shining being, all I did was cry — tears pouring down my face from the lack of respect and gratitude.
If I thought about it while I worked I’d start to cry. I didn’t need to meditate — it felt like she was at my side, patiently waiting, encouraging me gently and loving like a mother to a delicate, tender child. The grief of no gratitude and take-take-take was immense. It was too much, too big for me. I couldn’t be in this energy on my own. I knew I needed to ask for support from those that are conscious, who love and respect our mother earth. I needed to share this experience with those who might be willing to surrender their hearts in gratitude and help embrace the essence of the oil.
I needed space to think and process. I avoided meditating on my own until I got to Christchurch and the seven rays meditation group. Even though it felt intense, I knew I had discovered part of my calling.