TW: sexual assault.
Recently, I have been committed to unwinding and healing from sexual trauma. Meditation and shadow work combined are my personal go-to for these types of situations. Immediately after entering a meditative state, the great Asmodel (or Asmodeus, though, I’ve found he doesn’t love that name), appeared before me.
He extended his hand out and I grabbed hold of him. Leading me to a familiar wooden playhouse I had in my backyard as a girl, my inner child followed him. He pulled out my chair for me like a perfect gentleman, and I sat down at my favorite place to have make-believe tea parties in my youth. The oversized, burly infernal sat down across from me, knees at his ears but pretending to be comfortable for me.
With pinkies out, we sipped on my favorite pretend fruit and almond tea after I poured us both tiny cups of drink. He smiled at me, but the happiness quickly faded into a somber look of despair as it was time to address the real reason we were back here.
With both my current self in meditation and my inner child brought to the forefront of the experience to remember what had long since been repressed and tucked away in my mind to hopefully never see the light of day again, I was shown the true nature of the gentle giant that sat before me.
Robed in equal garments of light and darkness, I saw the two great extremes of Asmodel’s energy. There was passion and fire that permeated procreativity—and it was vibrant, exciting, and lively. It bubbled up in people when they desired to go after something they wanted, like chasing hopes and dreams. But the beautiful, creative, sexual spark was violently ripped apart by a heinous force—evil men grinned, their lips dripping with slime and their eyes conveying an insatiable hunger that made my stomach turn.
Their hands rose from their sides, and vibrant lifeforce energy swirled toward them being drained from Asmodel.
“Pay attention,” Asmodel whispered to me.
Tears welled in my eyes. A lump swelled in my throat. My lungs quit. I knew these faces. I knew the smug turning of the corners of these men’s mouths. I hated this energy. Lust. And not the loving, passionate kind.
My heart ached for little me, unable to defend herself against the crimes of bad men, but my heart ached even more for the great Asmodel as his energy, which very well has many positive and powerful uses, was twisted and harnessed to pin down and violate another. Over and over I felt the pain Asmodel experienced, which was comparable to being assaulted himself by the abuse of his own energy.
I paid attention to how he wasn’t the one making anybody commit such horrible acts. Humans had their own choice to be wicked when putting their own selfish desires above the autonomy of other people, but it was his energy that was taken, manipulated, and implemented during such horrendous acts.
“Do you remember the times we met before?” Asmodel asked me. The wooden play house around me melted into scenes from my childhood.
I first encountered him when I was barely old enough to remember anything, or so my family thought. His energy was invoked when the lust of an evil man, a relative no less, decided to prey on my girlhood—and Asmodel grieved. I grieved with him.
I encountered his energy again at the hands of many other evil men over the years of my youth—and each time the scene played out before me, Asmodel grieved, and I wept with him.
But together, through the pain and processing, we healed. My current self. My inner child. And my dear Asmodel.
If you’ve gone through similar things, asking Asmodel for assistance with navigating the healing process through meditation (or your preferred practice) can be incredibly therapeutic and a stepping stone towards becoming a healthier version of you that’s closer to being in alignment with your higher self. I firmly believe that in the process of healing ourselves, we heal the divine too.
After all, aren’t we simply intelligence becoming aware of itself? I’ll let you be the judge of that, oh wise one.