A few years ago my long-time client Judith lost her 36-year-old daughter to cancer. As with many parents who outlive their children, Judith was racked with guilt over her daughter’s death.
“I must have failed her in someway . . . I must have done something wrong . . . I was a bad mother to her,” Judith sobbed during one of our consultations more than a year after her daughter’s funeral. Despite the passage of time, she was shrouded in darkness—her self-torment clouded her eyes and was etched onto the palm of her non-dominant hand.
The non-dominant hand—the hand we do not use to write with—represents our subconscious self and often reflects feelings and emotions we have deeply internalized . . . emotions that can harm or cripple us if not dealt with.
Studying Judith’s handprints, I saw that her non-dominant heart line had shriveled since her daughter’s passing. This told me she had shut herself off from feeling or expressing love—she had filled her heart with guilt and there was room for nothing else. Her situation worsened over the next year and I grew concerned for her mental, physical and spiritual wellbeing. Grieving over the loss of her child was normal and healthy, but closing down her heart and turning away from the world for so long was destructive.
It was nearing Christmas, which I knew would be a particularly difficult time for Judith. I encouraged her to combat her guilt by meditating as often and as deeply as possible—to focus on the love she held for her daughter and her daughter’s love for her.
“We have to grow your heart line again, Judith, or this guilt could consume you—heal yourself through meditating on the love you two shared . . . the bond you continue to share.”
Three months later Judith returned for another consultation—I was delighted to see that her tears and torment were gone and the light had returned to her eyes.
“What happened, Judith?” I asked, applying ink to her palms to take a fresh set of handprints.
She smiled, and told me she had followed my advice and had started meditating daily.
“At first the same dark thoughts kept running through my mind, “she said. `It’s my fault she died . . . I brought her into this world and I should have protected her . . . I was a bad mother; I was a bad mother!’ This went on for a few weeks.
“Then on Christmas morning a miracle happened. I began to meditate, but this time as soon as the thought ‘I was a bad mother’ popped into my head, the shelf holding my statue of Buddha collapsed behind me with a loud bang. I turned around and saw an envelope fluttering to the floor—I had tucked it behind the statue years before and completely forgotten about it . . . it was a letter from my daughter. The first line read, Mom you are such a good mother to me—I can never thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. I love you so much! A huge sense of relief flooded my heart; at that moment I vowed to no longer live in doubt and guilt, but in love and hope. I looked inward to reach out to my daughter, and I found her . . . or she found me.”
When Judith finished her story we looked at her new handprints and were amazed to see that, in just three months, the heart line in her non-dominant hand had regrown and now stretched across the breadth of her palm.
I will never forget Judith’s Christmas miracle story and the way palmistry helped her reconnect with her heart. And I will never underestimate the power of love to heal our suffering.
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