Opening and Closing the Third Eye: New Orleans
My boyfriend’s mom, Pamela was a witch. Just straight up was a beautiful, powerful witch who pretty much embraced it, shadows and all. She was the first person to read my chart, read my tarot… always spookily accurate. She was very moody and dark and dramatic and fun to be around. She was one of my best friends and most loyal allies in all affairs. I told her, one day when I was telling her my dreams for analysis, that when I shut my eyes I saw images, like a photo negative, on my eyelids that would grow into moving pictures that freaked me out if I watched them. She told me that it was my Third Eye, and that if I meditated on I, if I looked up at it and put my focus there, that I would become very psychic.
Such bad advice really…….
I did as she said, I did it constantly. I was so intrigued that this was a muscle one could exercise with tangible results. Around this time, I was in college. Loyola University, New Orleans. So, I spent a lot of time smoking joints and focusing my Third Eye. So, I’ve said this before. New Orleans is a huge powerful something. I’m going to use the word Vortex. I start seeing specific, wild things while my eyes closed, attention on my Third Eye. I see my boyfriend in a white pick-up truck, eating Taco Bell, wearing a white t shirt, doubled over in laughter. I called him and grilled him. Sure, enough, white t shirt, Taco Bell, in his cousin’s white pick -up, funny joke. Whoa… Freaky. My dreams started to get weird and I almost never felt fully awake. I would go to my classes feeling underwater, eerie, creepy. Then I start seeing scary things when I close my eyes and was sleeping less and less, because I’m always watching my eyelids in anticipation and in fear. It gets to the point where I can’t close my eyes without seeing a slideshow of images constantly whirring.
So, as is custom while one is attending college in New Orleans, one drinks. Delicious drinks in obscene quantities. Every night. Until I black out. I’m pretty much serious here. The drinks there are just extra delicious, preternaturally strong, and most usually free (I feel like I’ve never bought my own drinks).
Allegedly, (per witnesses i.e. my friends, I would usually decide to go home on a whim, by myself. Quite suddenly. I’d bolt. My friends would try to stop me, I’d run off, break a beer bottle as a self-defense weapon and drunkenly walk the streets of the Garden District back to my dorm. It was not that smart.
Well one night during my second semester, after lots of banana flavored jello shots and Mind Erasers, I pulled the old’ run away home trick, and that New Orleans Garden District 200-year-old sidewalk came up and bit me, I fell hard. My foot caught under the jutting antique concrete in my absurdly high heeled wedges. My friend, the frat president (and my weed guy) carried me to his pick-up truck and drove me to the infirmary. We were wasted. The nurse gives me an ice pack and crutches… and a breathalyzer. I am helped back to my dorm. Once in my room I realize that my foot is in excruciating pain and I cannot put any weight on it. So, I hop on one foot to the bathroom. I hop promptly into a puddle caused by a leaky a/c that had supposedly been fixed that afternoon. Fell right on the back of my head. HARD. Have a little seizure on the floor of my dorm? Already quite the eventful evening. I wake up in my bed, wrapped up in my blanket with the nurse from the infirmary, the one who had just 11 minutes’ prior wrapped my foot up in an ace bandage, was sitting on my bed, flashing a light into my eyes and my roommate Dena is holding me and rocking me. I had had a small seizure I guess. The next couple of days are hazy… know that I went to the ER and found out I had broken a tiny bone in my foot and I remember being stunned that a tiny bone could make it impossible to walk. I was useless. It was terrible. Even with the kindness of everyone, like security guards willing to give me rides everywhere in their golf carts. Still it was so painful. Ever since the concussion, I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes I’m spinning so fast in a vortex of Christmas lights…. Faster and faster, I can’t blink it away, it never ever ends. It never ever ends… You could go forever, falling, no bottom. I cannot shut this image off. Then, I can’t wake up. Every time I fall asleep my roommate Dena, tells me I’m moaning and crying and trying to crawl through the air and she has a hard time waking me up. Then I fall back asleep and I’m in a cave with a dragon. The dragon is raping me and I cannot escape him. I cannot scream, I cannot get out, I can’t wake up, I cannot move. Dena shakes me awake and I collapse against her, sobbing. She takes me to the – not the dormitory infirmary, where I had gone before, but the University Health Clinic. Which was run by Jesuit nuns. Who are like the very best people on earth. I automatically felt safe as I told them the whole story. Dragon and all. They also happened to be doctors who wrote me a generous prescription for Xanax and made me an appointment with Dr. Barnes, my future psychiatrist, whom I adored.
I took a Xanax, and called Pamela and told her everything.
“Oh Darlin’,” she said in her slow, ultra -feminine Texas drawl, “you gotta close your third eye”. I’m like, “Tell me how!”.
She tells me, “Ask Jesus.” I’m a bit incredulous, I’ve never heard her mention Jesus before.
“Yes, pray to Jesus Christ to turn it off”.
I grew up Catholic, so it was not a huge stretch for me, although 99% of my prayers were to Mary. I took her advice and I prayed fervently to Jesus Christ to please turn my Third Eye off. It Worked Immediately. I do mean immediately. Suddenly, I could close my eyes and find darkness again. From that day forward I regarded Pamela as a very wise woman.
I kept my third eye off for a long time. Then, last year I started doing a Kundalini meditation that involved the chakras, mainly the Sacral Chakra. The teacher started talking about people who have no developed chakras and just start meditating on their third eye and how dangerous it is, with so many ending up in mental institutions, because they have a Kundalini awakening and cannot take it. Do not understand it. This was the first time I heard this man talk, and just listening to him it felt like I was in the vortex once again. Because he was describing my experience. I learned you must develop your lower chakras first. Or you’ll blow your third eye up. Or at least I will. Also, I learned I have am overdeveloped Third Eye chakra. To this day I don’t meditate on it often. I did once during yoga because my teacher (and very close friend) did a guided meditation that focused on it. I went for drinks with her afterwards and she asked how the meditation was for me. I responded with, “I realized that, philosophically we never really have to ever miss someone, even if they’ve died because they are still here always, in our atmosphere, and I realized that the “Christmas lights” I see around the vortex are LIVES! past lives, future lives, a million points of light…” and she was like,” Oh Allison, you go really far out there to the other side almost daily don’t you”
For that reason, I prefer to do Root, Sacral, Manipura, Throat, Heart or Crown Chakra meditations, although Crown chakra meditations can be equally intense.
So, the take away is Kundalini energy is not something to be messed with, and whenever there is something in your periphery, or dreams, or energy field, and you are frightened, call on Jesus. I have used his name every time an energy that I don’t trust won’t respect my space.
Edit: I have spent a long time developing my lower chakras and I do, in fact meditate on my third eye now.