Healing Homes. Darning Worlds.

As we enter the home, we almost trip. There’s a tug. Then the feeling there’s a dead end. You move down the corridor but feel a tight constriction. Books, bric a brac seem to crush. This makes it difficult for people to enter or exit the home. So the family tends to stay at home and then feel claustrophobic. Sometimes the problems of life are caused by outward things.

In another case, as we wander through the sufferer’s home looking for an issue, we find only small things, but then we step into the master bedroom and find a black heavy impression on one side of the bed. “Who sleeps this side?” we ask. “My husband” is the reply. He is out at sea 8 months a year. When he returns he broods. It is said, that finding the problem is 50% of the solution. Does this mean they go for joint counselling? The solution was to turn the master bedroom into an island at sea, subtly with a painting brought in. A curtain. A yantra.

In another home, the problem is a neighbour. There is jangled force as their frustrations spill over. Here we find ways using a balcony garden to separate, calm and bless.

In another there is a strange force radiating from a certain quarter. It is a temple with ancient energy. Here we talk to the force. Use a mural to trap and recast the energy.

In another case as we look at the energy of the land we see almost a history book going back centuries. There are local rajas, betrayals, murders, mini wars, so much history.

Sometimes the very land cries out. In one case, a forest once stood and its pain remains. In another case, the earth force rises up against the city that now rises.

Of late we have been healing many homes. It is a humbling and educative exercise. 

Educative for each home is packed with so much. So much life. So many layers of Life.

There is love casting its glow. Sacrifice biting deep. Deep sadness. Tiredness. Heaviness. Unshed tears. Bruises. Gouging.

Then there is the trace of emotion on the walls and beds. In one home, a grandmother’s loneliness left handprints on the window bars. In another a spouse’s frustration gathered into a grey cloud.

There’s the impress of children. Whispers of kisses. The child that will not return. The shy of pets, the claw of cats, the wag of dogs.

There’s memories that are unbearable. And memories so joyous they are unbearable. There’s lights, laughters, dreams. There’s windows opening nowhere. And doors to dusty roads.

There may be hidden ghosts. Some called by the lonely. Some sent by neighbours. Some clinging to damp patches.

Humbly we share your lives, see colours, bonds, dances, the very ingredients to happiness… We walk among them, the bricks and mortar that bind a life... Yes there is an entire library of life in every home…

Sometimes by shifting a God’s statue, changing a curtain’s colour, shifting a kennel, blocking an neighbour’s attack, introducing a mirror, removing a picture, planting a tree, pleading with a shakti, relocating a ghost we can bring a breath of joy in…

We live on the top of a great pyramid. Beneath life lies Life. The brick and mortar. Then the emotions. Then the ring of neighbours. Then the emotions of lifetimes. Then the spirit of land… Hello, the spirit of land did we say?

In one recent case, we introduced the husband and wife to the land spirit. It promised to protect and strengthen. Interestingly, we saw it like a pyramidish crystal. Without any prompting, the wife saw it like a fierce pyramid like tree. Yes, the spirit of land.

Blessing a home... retuning a family... darning a world... we are deeply grateful for this… great trust…     

By Tarun & Celia Cherian