I used to have a psychiatrist who talked to me about the Akashic Records. The idea that souls meet and agree on playing certain roles in each other’s lives before they become embodied. Back then, I couldn’t see how that was supposed to soothe my suffering.

Two days ago, after participating in an online evening chanting session, I watched a presentation about Tapping (the Emotional Freedom Technique) given by the pretty darned amazing Cheryl Richardson.

She talked about embracing and enjoying aging, and is very open about saying her age is 64. I like that. The more we women are – dare I say, brazen – about our ages, the more we put to long overdue rest the misogynous myths about the aging of women rendering them unattractive and of diminished value in the world.

She also talked about addressing your wounded child in a loving, kind, reassuring way, as a good parent would. And about using the growing awareness that linear time is finite to set boundaries to what you say “yes” to and politely and firmly saying “no thank you” when it’s called for. No big story or excuse-making; just, “I really thank you for asking me, and although I can’t be there I hope it goes well/you enjoy yourselves/it’s really successful/etc.”

Next day was Saturday and I slept long into the morning until my cat meowed and scratched at the bedroom door to be fed at 9:30. As I surfaced from sleep I realised I’d been dreaming about being a female teenager with a father who was failing me. He, my mother, younger sister and I (all fictitious characters courtesy of my dreaming imagination) were trying to get somewhere in the car and got lost. We all left the car in a town we didn’t know and my father and I went off into this sort of market to ask for help. But he got distracted and wandered off without me and I found myself alone in a strange place. Eventually I found him and a row ensued as to how he was a lousy Dad.

After I groggily fed my cats, I returned to bed. Still not fully awake, I contemplated what I have learnt recently about dreams revealing our mind to ourselves.

And this is what I jotted down:

            Unsupportive habits
What kind of parent am I to myself?
A good father? Or an unreliable father?
A good mother? Or an uncaring mother?
I'm not an orphan. I am my own parents.
I can rely on my inner father to take action in my best interests.
I can trust my inner mother to love and care for me very well.

The part about “I’m not an orphan” surprised me. But it’s what my subconscious gave me so I went with it. I did a few rounds of tapping, using my notes as a script.

Later, seated before my Gohonzon, I also chanted about these revelations. Then I got busy cleaning as I had a friend coming over in the afternoon. She practises Buddhism also, so after tea and a long chat we sat down together to do evening gongyo (prayers). After dinner we sat together to participate in an online memorial for a truly exceptional, kind and compassionate man called Mr. Hugh Izumi. Mr. Izumi contributed in invaluable ways to the SGI Buddhist movement in Canada and he died peacefully in his sleep recently at 95. Gongyo was part of the ceremony and I’m glad my friend was with me as I was in tears at first as we began chanting for him. She placed her hand reassuringly on my arm while she chanted next to me and her energy helped me to balance mine. I continued to chant with a stronger voice.

Then I had a mystic experience.

I thought about when Mr. Izumi transitioned he would have been met by his beloved wife who died three years ago, and by their (and my) mentor, Daisaku Ikeda, who died in November, also at 95.

Then my inner vision shifted to my own future transitioning. My parents were there. They said to me something along the lines of, “Well, we did our job really well. We gave you the kind of challenges that you needed in order to become the person that you eventually became.” Although they were themselves, they were very different – sort of shining.

I suddenly saw that what I would have previously described as my misfortune – the emotional unavailability and all kinds of other painful things in my young life – in a completely different light. I understood that they had done the whole thing for my benefit in the long run.

Gaia.com describes the Akashic Records as “the repository of every thought, word, and deed of every living being, good, bad, and awful, in all times; past, present, future.” Whether you call it the Akashic Records, or the Mystic Law, or the ninth consciousness, my heart has healed this weekend, in wonderful ways.

“Remain open. There is something bigger than you know going on here.”

Iyanla Vanzant

Thank you for photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash