Dr. Guan-Cheng Sun has recommended positioning belts and necklaces to protect vulnerable energy centers and has advised choosing stones whose energy will support us, with turquoise and jade getting particular mention. He has also told cautionary tales of people getting sick as a result of wearing jewelry that carried negative energy from previous owners.
This always seemed a bit far-fetched to me, more like the stuff of gothic novels than real life.
But of late I have felt a certain sensitivity at the sternum, and since Dr. Sun had talked about connecting with earth energies through jewelry at a recent seminar, I thought that maybe, silly though it might be, I’d try wearing some sort of necklace.
I rarely wear jewelry and don’t have much. But I found a turquoise pendant on a silver chain that had belonged to my mother. The stone was oval, a pale shade of turquoise, perhaps an inch-and-a-half long. I wouldn’t have bought the pendant, but I had it, and it seemed light, calm, clear.
It didn’t match my clothes, so I tucked it under my shirt. It was just the right length.
I had some time before I needed to leave the house, so I began practicing qigong.
And I started getting images of my mother.
Was it because my mother’s energy was in the stone or simply because I knew that I was wearing a piece of jewelry that had belonged to her (although I hadn’t chosen it for that reason)?
I don’t know and surprisingly I don’t care, because the images—more like shadowy glimpses than photographs—were unlike anything I had ever experienced before.
In the images, my mother was me, I was my mother. I was her in the hospital giving birth to me. I was her wearing a summer skirt and sandals—as, indeed, she would have worn during the summer and as I was wearing as I practiced. I was her face, her hair, her arms, her body.
In life, we were not close. We were very different in some difficult ways. But in those images, I was my mother—and, of course, I am my mother, since half my DNA is hers and I lived in her womb for 9 months, and ever since, even now that she is dead, she has been a major part of the constellation of energy that is me and my world.
I thought, oh, no, should I being doing qigong wearing my mother’s jewelry? But I didn’t seem to be feeling particularly happy or sad or otherwise off-kilter. The images were more an acknowledgement of something that may have needed acknowledging:
I am my mother’s daughter. I may look and act more like my father, but I am, profoundly, my mother’s daughter.
And it’s all right.