First Moments in Heaven: Enslaved

Soul, when you first get to Heaven, I think you’ll find yourself curled, a fetal pose the only hint of safety you ever knew. The images and memories remain fresh for a moment – stinking man trapping you, pushing himself on and into you, the small room the watery gruel the stinking man returning. Darkness, constriction, pain, muted screams.
 
No wonder you shrank back in time and space to the vaguely remembered ease of the womb.
 
But the womb hereis Real. Warmth, rhythm, nutrients washing and sloshing at every point on your body, no crevasse forgotten, seeping into every pore and follicle and orifice – nourishing, feeding, caressing.
 
Flex your finger.
Shrug your shoulder.
 
You can ease out of your self-protecting grasp. Cheerful, overwhelmingly safe hugs wait for you.
 
You.
 
Outside your curl is zero danger.
Outside your curl is only pure, generous enjoyment of all of you. 
You can’t imagine it yet, but you are entering soaking love.