Soul Retrieval

I had my first soul retrieval in 2008. I knew I was moving away from Pennsylvania, and I came across this woman’s information somehow. I’m not quite sure about the events leading up to it, but I had been reading a lot of books about spirituality and healing, and I liked her name. (I had a childhood friend whose last name was the same, so I was like, “Alright, she’s the one.”)

When I got there and she opened the door, I immediately burst into tears. I’ve had that happen to me one other time since – when I had gone to a curandero whom I knew for an egg limpia. It had been some time since I had seen him and in the presence of the healing energy that emanates from him, I instinctively let my guard down and started sobbing. I forget what was going on at that time, but it was some time around 2017 – 2018. In the first case, Karen had forgotten I was coming. I had a wound from having been forgotten. It was my first such release. (And it required a great deal of humility, to stand at a stranger’s doorstep, a blubbering mess.) She was extremely gracious. Shamans typically are.

As I’m sitting here today, I’m working on retrieving a lost soul part. I have her in my aura, but she’s hesitant to reintegrate. The higher self of a divine counterpart tells me she’s sad. (“Is that what it is? Sadness?”). She won’t let me feel that, though. To me, she’s angry. Very angry. In fact, when she returned, she came in like a comet, straight at me. Like Moaning Myrtle. (It’s a spiritual trait of this world to experience energy according to the images we see in life. What I mean by this is: I’ve received several messages that came as images from Harry Potter films. If I had never seen them, I still would have received the messages, but they would have been in a different form.) Anyway, that was months ago. I’ve been feeling the pressure of her since, but I thought she was an external presence. It was only last week I realized she was a part of me.

I’ve been working with her, holding space for her, acknowledging her, assuring her it is safe. I asked her why she’s angry. She said I let her down. (What this really means is there’s a child part of my soul who feels I’ve let myself down in some way.)

This morning, I asked one of my spirit guides, Ralph (a family friend who has since crossed over), if he could help me. She trusts him. She named her teddy bear after him. He knows how to interact with her. I asked if she could help me remember what happened. She said she’d show me in my surroundings.

He’s lightening her mood.

She’s softening now. She’ll come. She won’t be pushed. Or pulled, for that matter. I’m chuckling at myself. There are so many things I could write, and I will. Maybe that’s why I’m mad. Okay. Well, yeah. I figured it out. I’ll devote more dedicated time to writing. (So many synchronicities, so many confirmations… writing that, recounting this past week… I’m in awe of this world.)

Retrieved from the shed: Ralf the teddy bear (she didn’t know how to spell Ralph), and another of my childhood dolls (my teenage self — 13/14 — gave her a string hair decoration).

If you’re interested in learning more about soul retrieval, here is some more information: (opens in new tab). Full disclosure: I have no connection to this person, but I like the way she describes it.