Soul Fragmentation as Pizza Slices

Originally posted on Dec 12, 2019 on medium.com/@shamandao

Photo by Mitch Meyers on Unsplash

The roundtrip ticket to London was less than four hundred dollars from Los Angeles.

It was an opportunity my friend and I couldn’t pass up. It was also our first time to Europe and the beginning of my ten-year love affair with Italy. A love affair that may have ended up in a similar fashion to Eat, Pray, Love.

I ate.

I prayed.

I loved, hard.

The moment my trips to Italy became more frequent, a pattern began to emerge. I would weep once the lights dimmed on the return flight home. I used to blame the romantic comedies that played on the screen but that wasn’t it. It felt as if someone ripped a part of my heart out.

Every. Single. Time.

I didn’t know it then, but my soul fragmented off. A piece of my soul broke and fragmented off. That piece stayed in Italy, while my physical body went home to the States. The weeping, sleepless nights and the many trips back were not in vain. Yet the one week, one month trips were not enough for me. They didn’t fill up the longing inside of me, so I after ten long years, I made the move. And eventually found my soul fragments scattered all over Italy.

What Is Soul Fragmentation?

Soul fragmentation is when a piece of your soul breaks or fragments off. That part of your soul has left you. It could linger in that space/time it fragmented off of you or it also could stay in a place you have visited or lived. This usually occurs when one experiences a traumatic event, stress and/or challenge.

What Is a Soul?

We are a soul; we are not our physical body. Inside each one of us is a force, an energy which gives us life. It gives us breath. Some call this prana, life force, and/or chi. It is energy that makes us uniquely individual.

“What do you mean by soul fragmentation?” Dalia asked one day in session. She was one of my very first clients.

“Well, my dear, imagine you were born as a whole pizza pie with eight slices. It doesn’t matter how many slices, but for this description, let’s stick with eight,” I said.

Dalia sat in front of me, intrigued because like me, she also loved pizza.

“Over the course of the years of your life, maybe you give one slice away to someone you love. Or someone comes in and takes one without your permission. Or you may go somewhere and you leave a slice there,” I continued.

I could tell Dalia was trying to remember times in her life she could compare these slices to. “After some years, you feel as if a part of you is incomplete. You may not feel whole. You may start to feel like something is missing.”

“Then you start to seek for something, maybe you do not know what it is. But there is a gnawing inside of you, a void. You can tell something is off. Dalia, do you remember the pizza slices you gave away or left somewhere? Those are the parts of your soul that may have fragmented off somehow, someway. You’re missing some slices from your whole pizza pie,” I told her.

Dalia nodded her head in agreement. “Also, do you know what a shaman is?” I asked her.

She tilted her head to one side to think and then shook her head no.

“Shamans are men and women who work in the spiritual realm and travel to other dimensions,” I continued, “They are able to find parts of our soul which have fragmented off so they can return those parts back to us. To make us feel whole again.”

“One of my abilities I possess is the ability to travel to different dimensions. I am able to separate my soul from my physical body to travel there. I can find the part of certain souls to bring them home where they belong. Are you ready?” I asked her. She nodded her head.

In the safety of my apartment, I sat crossed-legged in the middle of my living room with my eyes closed. In front of me sat a whiteboard with bright colored markers on the side and a drawn stick figure of Dalia’s mother on it.

She was the subject of the spirit releasement and soul retrieval. I sensed Dalia’s mother’s energy on the right side of the void in another dimension. I astral projected my soul to stand in front of her.

My attention pulled to Dalia’s mother’s heart as my right palm hovered over it. I pursed my lips together and blew cold air through my hand and into her heart. Layer after layer, I blew cold air until her heart was almost frozen over.

The ice around her heart began to thaw. As water dripped down, a layer of black thin hair emerged that covered her entire heart. Long and shiny, this head of thick, black hair began to unwrap itself from Dalia’s mother’s heart to drape down.

This looks familiar, I thought as the hair continued to move. I know, it reminded me of the same long black hair on the girl from that one movie, The Grudge!

Not a pretty sight.

The head of hair peeled back enough for me to place my hands underneath the cap of it, as if it was a wig. At the same time my fingers slid underneath this cursed wig, I called upon the heavens to open up the Light. Black smoke began to rise up from her heart. The curse that had suffocated her family for so long evaporated into the Light.

Dalia’s mom’s soul floated upside down above me. I reached up to grab ahold of it. With kitten gloves, brought it down and back into her physical body. Her mom’s body swayed front to back as I placed my hands on her shoulders.

I shook her until her head snapped to attention. Dalia’s mom blinked at me as if she just woke up from a very long nap. Her cheeks felt warm underneath my fingers as I patted them to make sure her soul had completely integrated into her body. My head lowered in gratitude as my soul disappeared back into my own physical body, on the third dimensional plane.

“Hey Dalia, the releasement for your Mom has been completed. But give your Mom some time. In the next couple weeks, she’ll be more loving and nurturing, but give her some time okay?” I told Dalia the day of her mother’s releasement.

“Um, okay,” she laughed. “I don’t even remember a time when she ever was, but I trust you.”

Over the course of the following weeks, Dalia reached out to me to let me know that her Mother was more playful. She exuded joy and was more interactive with her and her siblings, an occurrence which had never taken place before in their lives.

“Carol, I video chatted with my mom 3 times today,” Dalia texted me. “Before I would barely talk to her for months in between.”

“What a beautiful blessing, Dalia. How does that make you feel?”

“Very full.”

Full indeed as both mother and daughter pizza pies fully intact and whole.

If you or someone you know feels incomplete and many avenues have been exhausted; please consider aligning yourself with a trained and knowledgeable shaman and/or healer.

Blessed be.