My body was tired, depleted. I had trouble sleeping enough, or sleeping too much. I saw the world through darkly circled and sunken eyes. And so The Mother asked me to trust her. She asked if I wanted to meet the part of me who had been absent for so long; the one who escaped at night in my dreams and travelled to what she called the Readyverse, the place in which all of the universe’s teachings can be experienced in the moment. She told me I’d come face to face with the me who was afraid to return home to a body that ignored her and denied the truth of who I was. The Mother told me not to judge the moment in which I called her back and looked in the mirror for the first time. She assured me I’d have the courage to just observe and notice. I felt like a baby bird whose mother prepared to push her out of the nest. I both loved and feared Zahara.
I braced, breathed, and became as neutral as I could. My ether-self came into view and shyly approached, looking much like me from a distance. And when she got close enough, I began to cry as her hopeful yet heavy eyes pleaded with me. She was sallow and parched. She was like the bark of a bleached birch, peeling and cracked. She was hollowed in the throat and gut, a shell of what a person should be. Her shoulders curled over into a protective hunch. Her lips, split and scabbed, tried to smile a grin of broken gray teeth. Her hair fell out in clumps, lying in thinly curled wisps marking the wake of her approach. Ribs poked through her skin, and her elbows and knees were simply too big for her tiny limbs. She paused, then wheezed as she tried to say my name…our name.
How could I have done this to her? How could I expect to live richly when I seemed to be wasting away on the spirit side?
The Mother said I could rebuild it all, but I had to start with what was in front of me. She looked at me with my own sunken eyes and signaled that it was time. So I did what I knew the Mother would do. I tore her apart, dismembering so that I could remember. I stripped her of her skin and bones, her muscles and organs, until all that was left was one tiny cell buzzing gently with the very first DNA of my existence. I breathed into it with the colors and textures of strength, vibrance, and health. Like blowing a freshly smoldering coal coaxing a fire to burst forth, I blew light into that cell until it glowed brighter than my eyes could see. This cell divided and become a heart, then lungs, then a brain, and then all the other organs in the body. I breathed into her a robust circulatory system and stitched together a bionic skeleton of muscles and bones. I filled her with blood as rich as the earth, and charged her up with care only I could cultivate.
She began to stand tall. Her shoulders pulled back and her skin brightened. Her hair grew lush and long and her eyes sparkled. Her smile enraptured me.
I looked at the most beautiful self I’d ever known and felt relief and remorse for having seen her on her deathbed. I would never ignore her again.
She turned her back to me and paused just in front of my body. Stepping back, she overlayed herself onto me, sinking into my body, bleeding herself through my skin and bones. She rushed through my veins and lit up the inside of my brain. She anchored herself into my joints and filled all of my empty spaces. I brought myself back to life in the Readyverse.
About this book
This is a deep dive into both the exploratory neuroscience of self-transformation, and into the spiritual experiences that put a sense of urgency into Lisa Wimberger’s creation of the Neurosculpting® modality that saved her life.