I went back.
Not because she called me. She didn’t.
Not because she forced me. She didn’t.
Because she asked me. So I went.
Water. I was walking on water. That pure sweet water that I don’t think I will ever smell in the physical world. All around me was obscured by mist but one area held a glow that the others did not. I knew she would be there as the source of that glow. She is the Light in this realm, though really, I know she only does that for my benefit. I still carry physical expectations when Traveling.
The rosary I carry in the physical world is hanging loosely off my left wrist. The excess is held in my left hand. We have made a promise to each other, and my carrying of a rosary is the mark of that covenant. As I wrap a loop around my wrist to keep it from falling, the mist parts and the source of light is revealed.
I don’t see her face. I know she is unveiled and radiant. I know her skin is translucent and is barely more than a container for the light that she is. I know I am already within her outer embrace even though it is the same as her outer robe. It is the same color as the mist, the same color as water, the same color that any kid with a box of crayons would color the sea. That certain blue. Marian blue. I don’t attempt to see her face because I’m not sure if I won’t be able to see it because of deeply entrenched false beliefs, or because I would not be able to comprehend it. It doesn’t matter though. I do not identify her by her face.
I look at her hands.
There’s something unique about what I see. Something I’d rather keep private because it goes against commonly accepted understanding, but it makes perfect sense to me when viewed in the light (heh) of our relationship. It is a feature that impostors would be quick to attempt to duplicate, and quick to fail. For all the scent of water, for all the particular hue of blue, for all the softness in her voice, it is her hands that identifies Merciful Mother Mary to me.
I kneel in greeting. She holds out her right hand. I take it with my left and the rosary slides up and over our grip. I cover the rosary with my right hand in confirmation of the mutual promise. She covers my right hand with her left.
I am so at peace, I’m terrified. I am not used to this state. Not used to complete acceptance. Not used to the lack of underlying hostility. It feels like a trap about to spring, even though I consciously know it is not so. She knows this, and watches me adjust.
When I was here earlier today, a drop of [pure] water fell in my mouth. That drop suddenly twists inside me, making me nauseous. I feel the rising pressure and realize what is about to happen. I try to pull away but her soft grip will not shift for me. So I turn my head, lean as far away as I can, and be overwhelmed by the guilt of fouling this holy place with the proof of my uncleanness.
She moves. She holds me leaning forward while pushing up my back with her free hand. The gesture releases more foul substances that splatters into the pure waters under me. I watch with curious glee as the pure waters react to the invading substances. There is a sudden boiling, and then the unclean fluids are torn apart by the pure water and rendered inert at first, then rendered completely undone.
I am relieved to see this. Nothing I can do will foul this place. Consciously, I knew this. But there is always a twisting maggot of fear that doubts everything good.
She turns me to face her and pulls me onto her lap as she seats herself. “Do you trust me?”
Oh shit. The maggot of fear freezes me into immobility. My face is locked into an expression between panic and pain. I feel the beads of the rosary slip against my wrist and am reminded of the mutual promise. The fear releases me at the prodding of the gentle reminder.
“I do. But I am afraid. I will cry, but I will do my best to ignore the tears.”
I cannot see her face, but I can feel her smile. I know that smile. I have portrayed that very same expression to my own daughter when she is afraid of something I know will not wound her but will hurt her, like a vaccination shot. My child understands that sometimes you have to endure a little pain now so you won’t be in a lot of pain later.
That my child has aged into a legal adult and I am only now seeing this expression from a child’s point of view hurts me more than anything that can happen to me here. I don’t tell Merciful Mother Mary. My sneaking tears whisper it loudly as they race for my hairline.
Her hand cups my face with all the uniqueness I adore. “I will honor your trust. It will hurt. But it will hurt you more to let it remain.” I nod. I close my eyes. I yield.
She places her hand through the illusion of clothes I have wrapped around me. Consciously, I know that every single thing I’m seeing here is an illusion. An interaction of her projection and my imagination. A false scene made solely to display symbolism for conveying information that I sometimes understand, but usually don’t. So I know I am not physically here. And I know her hand is not reaching into my body. And I know the tactile feedback I am receiving is not valid.
I seize at her touch, anyway.
Water. From within. Water. Flowing from her hand into my soul. Water. Forcing its way into every cracked bone and strained flesh that hangs upon it. She is the Fount of Living Water, and she is flooding into me.
My last unified thought is feeling the water well up in my lungs and start to flow out of my mouth. The water she was pouring into me was pure. What was flowing out was not. I have a lot of shit to let go of.
My body… my spirit… resisted and tried to dam the flood in an moment of uncontrollable instinct.
My mind broke into three pieces under the pressure.
What follows occurred simultaneously.
~ the first shard ~
I see the vastness of space. Behind me, below me, is the earth with its tainted atmosphere and its thickening layers of space debris. But before me is uncolored space. Each star is a brilliant point of light. Each galaxy is a glowing smudge as if a finger had touched the undefinable darkness of nothing and revealed the eternity just beyond.
I know this is a vision within a vision. That I can not be floating bodily in the vacuum of space without protection. I do not turn to inspect myself. I know I am not really here. Instead I focus my attention upon myself and find [my form is of a distinctive and informative shape].
A comet races away from the sun. Its tail is pointed the wrong way, catching my attention. I focus once more on the darkness of space, trying to understand why I am seeing this now.
«Why is space black to you?» Her unvoice vibrates my form gently. I answer scientifically. Remarking dryly that space is not really black, but that human eyes can not see the energies that are present. Lack of perception brings darkness to what would otherwise be a very bright and vibrant sky.
«What did you call me?» I did not think this form could blush, or that it could blush so intensely that my hue changed from scalp to sole. Softly I answered. “Queen of Heaven. But I do not understand why.”
«Then look upon me, and see.» Look… where? There is only infinity. Each star is a collection of matter, and between those stars are more matter that I cannot perceive, but where would the Queen of Heaven be?
Wait. Where am I again? Now I force my body to turn. There, below me, is Earth. I am far enough away that the planet only fills a third of my vision. A heresy starts to congeal, making me giggle in a defensive reaction. Funny that I would be concerned about heresy, considering I’m a willful apostate from Christianity.
I turn my back to Earth and all the matter it contains. Again I see only the infinities of space. How can I see the stars? Because what is in between the stars and me is translucent… I remember her skin when she is appearing as a person. How her skin is barely more than a container for the light within her. “Translucent…” My eyes open wide in understanding. “Behold. The Queen of Heaven.”
My eyes are suddenly touched with water, and I blink in unthinking reaction. When I open them, space is no longer black. I see all the ranges of energy, and the rush of information from what I am seeing finally overwhelms my mind.
What happened after, I can not put into words.
~ the second shard ~
The smell is an ordeal in itself. Being thrown into a working sewer system would be more pleasant than dealing with the glutinous and viscous fluids surging out of my mouth and nose. My body is twitching uncontrollably in her lap. Arms and head straining back as she continues to flow water into me. Her left hand is holding my neck steady. Somehow she has me balanced perfectly on her lap.
It pains her to see me in discomfort. I don’t know why knowing that comforts me. I feel like I’m letting her down with the nastiness of being mortal, of being human. Even if she is more than what she is allowing me to understand, she is still Mary Theotokos. She once held perfection in her arms, how terrible it is then that she now holds me.
How terrible that she now holds someone that walked away from her son.
She continues to hold me securely. I feel her smiling at me again and I realize my thoughts are as transparent as her skin. I want to slide away in shame. You’re not supposed to care about me.
“I care about all peoples. Those that accept my son, and those that don’t. I understand that [the path that leads to my son] is not the path for all people. But I care about all of you just the same. I would not have [entered into that covenant with you] if I did not care. I would not be helping you now, if I did not care. I know this is a hard truth for you to believe and accept. So I will demonstrate it as often as you require. Like now.”
The waters she was flowing into me were cool, but not excessively so. I did not realize how hot I was within until I noted what was flowing out of me was uncomfortably heated. I feared for a moment that she would quench the flame of my heart, but realized that is a different manifestation for a different realm.
I do not understand unconditional love. Even after having it demonstrated to me, even after attempting to give it myself. Here she was, showing me this kind of love in a very physical and visceral way, and I could not accept it. The debris flowing out of my mouth thickened and started to catch in my throat. I started to drown.
She nodded. “This too, you have to release. You did not deserve the abuse you have received. You were not created for the thrill of destruction. I can not remove what blocks you have set in place. I can only give you the tools to do so, yourself.”
The waters continued to fill me. No longer having a quick and expedient exit, they started to pool and collect in my torso. Then into my limbs. My body did not bloat, though, and I wondered where the waters were going.
The more the waters gathered, the more my emotions became heavy. Despite knowing I was not physically here, I became afraid. I am going to drown because I can’t love myself. I deserve that. Because if I was deserving of love, wouldn’t I be the first to love me? She cares, but she can’t save me from myself. And haven’t I been seeking death all this time anyway? Taking the risks and going to the forbidden places because I’m unable to finish myself off by my own hands. Now there’s no way my body’s self-preservation instinct can overrule me. I’m going to drown. And the hurting is going to stop.
Except I didn’t drown. And the hurting didn’t stop. Why? What was wrong?
Her waters are truth. And I am holding on to lies. To make the hurting stop, I have to release the lies and accept the truth. And the truth is…
I am loved.
But by who?
In the moment between heartbeats, I had the answer. A flash of everyone that does love me exploded in my mind. Some of them, I love back, but feel inadequate in showing it. But they are there for me, and they show their love in their own way, and their love for me is real.
I tried to take a breath and choked on the solidifying mass in my throat. The only way to clear the mass was to accept the truth pouring into me.
It hurt to yield. I don’t understand why. But I yielded anyway.
What slid up my throat felt half as disgusting as it smelled once exposed to air. But it went. And with it, a great deal of internalized self-hate and pain. It was punctuated by the first movement of air since she touched me. The sobbing was ugly, embarrassing, and sourced from deep wounds. But it was necessary or those deep wounds would never begin to heal.
As the sound faded, so did the remains of my strength. I was now truly completely helpless in her grip. I had nothing left to consciously hold back.
She smiled and shifted her hand deeper into my soul.
The waters increased.
Instead of just pouring out of my mouth and nose, they were now seeping through every pore in my skin. The smell of oxidized sweat surrounded us at first, but as the cleansing continued, the smell was washed out of the air until all I could detect was the sweet pure water that I associate with her.
“I do not want you to drown. But there is another [English] word that you use that has a very specific meaning in the context of where you are. Do not drown. Dive.”
I knew what she meant. And I was finally in the proper frame of mind to “dive” here. All that I had let go would have kept me from being able to seek deeper truths. I knew my mind was shattered, but I also knew the other parts of me were dealing with these truths in a different way. I would be okay, now. Here, with her. I was safe.
I dove.
~ the third shard ~
I did not realize I was standing until I dropped to my knees while shrieking in horror and fear. My eyes were open but I was completely blinded by the absolute light surrounding me. Something had happened that broke me, that shattered my mind, and I could not connect with the other pieces. I did not know how much of me was here, or even if I was alive. I thought I was in pain, but I could not tell for sure. I only knew that what part of me that was here was incomplete, and terrified.
“DON’T LEAVE ME!” I don’t know who I was begging to remain with. Everyone I care about already knows I’m liable to drop off the radar without even a moment’s notice, but with the trust that I would eventually return. Everyone I care about, I trust to do the same without having to explain themselves to me. I would just continue on as I usually do until they pop back up again. I have been alone for so long, I’m not sure I know how to deal with someone who was always there in person every day.
That’s a lie, and I know it. Who am I trying to bluff? Me or someone else?
I took a breath to call out a name from instinct, and bit my tongue to bleeding to keep from saying it. I must be really hurt to regress to childhood like that. She never came when I needed her then, like hell is she going to walk through worlds to come to me now. I leaned forward and rested on my arms as I gathered my wits. No. I’m not remembering everything clearly. I need to identify where I am, what shattered me, and where my other pieces are.
I sat up and sniffled back my whimpering. And stop being a little shit. This isn’t my first quartering. I tried to stand up, but cold fear made my legs useless. “Fuck.”
I struggled with feelings of helplessness, but they seemed to pour from some deep fissure in my soul. The fear won and I fell over crying openly and unable to stop. The more I cried, the more I felt out of control. The more I felt out of control, the more I panicked. The more I panicked the more shrill my crying became. It wasn’t long until I was shrieking from a nearly insane state again.
“You are okay.” A strong hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me back into a seated position. I tried to shrink away from the figure, but the grip was stronger than all my fear and doubt. “You are shattered again. I can only touch this piece of you. But I assure you, your other pieces are safe.”
The looming figure’s presence triggered a flight response, but even if my legs were working, his grip would not allow me to go anywhere. He continued talking, repeating what he had said several times. I knew what the words meant, but I did not understand the combination of them. I did not realize I had stopped crying until I felt like starting again.
A rough hand wiped the streaks of previous tears. The surface of his fingers were animated and furry. Each pass felt like five because of the undulating tendrils. “You do not recognize me. I have no proof that you are safe with me. Do you remember where you were before being here?”
His question capped the rising panic. Immediately an answer formed in my mind, but I rejected it because it was the vain wishing of an abandoned child. I shook my head rather than tell that lie again.
“Your native language is full of untruths and hidden speaking. I heard your answer already, but you need to hear it yourself. Who were you with?”
“With…” No. That’s not right. I wasn’t with… her. There was another word, one that meant the same but meant something entirely different. I needed to remember that word. I knew once I spoke it, it would connect me to my lost pieces.
The figure stood up and extended six mottled wings. The display caught my attention and for a moment, I was not afraid. He appeared taller than any building I remembered seeing, but at the same time, barely taller than me. The span of his hands could shatter cannonballs, but I strangely remember them as being soft and gentle. Watching him as he lifted his face, I realized his eye sockets were empty but he was able to see me clearly.
He spread his hands down as if presenting me to someone above him. The gesture frightened me again. A whorl of flame burst into being above his brow. The light from it terrified me and I fell down unable to move.
He reached up to that flame and touched it, then gently scooped me up off the ground and touched my forehead with the piercing warmth. I regained the ability to move and surprised myself by not trying to run away from him. Instead, I clung to his black robes and whispered my fear of being abandoned. Again.
“I will not leave you. But if you are going to go back, you have to remember who you are going back to. Who were you with?”
I hid my face in his robes in shame. “Is there another word for ‘Mom’? Because I was with someone who is like my mom, but is not my mom. My mom would never be here like this. Not for me.”
He pulled my face clear of his robes, and touched my forehead with the flame again. “Who were you with?”
I remembered a little bit. “The Queen of Heaven.” The moment I said it, I remembered all that happened above the planet.
He touched the flame to my forehead once more. “Who were you with?”
I suddenly tasted salty tears on my tongue, though my face was dry. It took me a moment to find the right words to carry my answer. “The Queen of Sorrow.” At once, I remembered her purging of festering wounds, and the command to dive.
I looked up at him, and remembered him. “Socheniel.” He smiled at my speaking of his name and the last of my fear fled from me. As he reached up to the formidable flame above his brow again I remembered the unhealthy fear I had of that flame, and what I was afraid it represented. I should be afraid of it now that I remember who and what he is. But he has demonstrated to me three times that it will not hurt me without cause. I will take that evidence to heart, and not flinch from it, or him, again.
He touched the flame to my yielding brow. As the warmth spread throughout all of me, I remembered all that had happened and who I had been in the presence of before. “Who were you with?”
I knew now what word my heart wanted to say. I started to silently weep at truly understanding her love for me. But I could not bring myself to actually speak the word my heart desired, even though I was sure Socheniel knew it before I did. “The Queen of Hope.”
Socheniel smiled in an indulgent way. He nodded softly. “Then go back to her.” He relaxed his hold on me so that I was only lying comfortably in the crook of his arm. I was free to leave this bright place I had been lost in.
I slid away from him and stood on solid light. I bowed a formal farewell before taking a step backwards. As I turned around, the worlds turned with me and I was surrounded by mists of pure water once more.
~ the united mind ~
“Oh Queen of Heaven. Oh Queen of Sorrow. Oh Queen of Hope. I…” Her presence surrounded me, soaking me through the illusion of clothes I had restored. My broken pieces combined, and with them, the collection of experiences. I sank once more to my knees as my tears made their own offerings.
I spoke. What I said, I am not comfortable sharing with you, dear reader. But know I spoke from a place I have long avoided, my heart.
Merciful Mother Mary reached down and gently guided me to standing. My rosary slid down my left wrist but I grabbed it before it fell into the solid waters under us. I wrapped it around my palm twice before clenching my fist to keep it securely. Wordlessly I raised it between us. Wordlessly she covered my hand with hers. She kept her promise to me. She will continue keeping it. I kept my promise to her. I will continue keeping it.
«Go.»
I nodded, then curtsied still letting her hand rest over mine. The moment I made the decision to leave, the worlds shifted under me and I was no longer in her presence.
I did not go immediately to my lair after leaving her presence. I took a detour to the [motherfucking] bar in the middle of the [god damn] swamp to see if I was needed for later shenanigans. I wasn’t. But some of those that knew me were hard pressed to recognize me at first. They said I had changed. That there was now something missing, in a good way they hastened to add, but there was now less of me in a way.
I knew what they meant and smiled to reassure them. I’m still me, just with a little less bullshit than before. No standing orders were waiting for me, so I left for my lair. Exhausted, the moment I sat down, I fell into a deeper, dreamless sleep.