She was in death’s pupa stage, it had cast its mantle over her and she never left.
It squeezed her so tight she couldn’t breath. This instar is a temporary cover to protect you from the initial state of shock. You have five instars she hadn’t left one and it was three years later.
Couldn’t let go.
Couldn’t manage its enormity.
Couldn’t face the world.
Death at any time is difficult, sudden death is like Sisyphus hiding from it, it is going to get you, and you just can’t prepare for it.
She wasn’t prepared.
She needs now to peep out at the temporal world and in time she will see the eternal and peace.
The thread of death is never cut, only the thread of life is cut.
You can never forget anything that is connected to the Gods.
Once the thread of someone’s life is cut it will never be severed from your own self.
Pulling off the pupa is difficult you can’t force it but you can help it. As she lay transfixed the wind of her hands went over her body.
She continued telling her that the negative spirits and energy were being pulled out of her.
Don’t fight it.
The panic rose. Slowly she was told let it out as the wind of her hands dragged all her energy away.
She herself could feel the strength of her; it was if the instars had welded together, she asked her to sit up.
Her back was a selection of monticule like calcified stones; a cold stiff chrysalis where kneading them did nothing.
She pulled back her shoulder and pressed her vertebrae, all the way down tittles of ice like ore, this metamorphoses would take time. She tried the other shoulder gently forcing it as far back as it would go.
So did she.
She lay back down, wait there, she ran to the attic for a crystal and oil.
When she came back fear was washing over her, being alone in this state is punishment.
She placed the crystal on her head and got her to smell the oil.
She wanted to talk but sometimes the talk is over, it’s now doing time.
Continuously she swept her hands over her, pulling from the stomach, releasing tightness.
Then the head where she was crucified by thoughts and feverish memories.
Shush came into the room and stood mesmerised.
The intensity of this ritual was exhausting she felt the perspiration running down her back.
Would you sit up?
And they talked then for an hour.
Talk was of