Archive for month: July, 2016

Marcus was a talented young animator from a small Canadian town who, despite his inherent shyness, applied for a job at a major Hollywood film studio. While riding the bus to the interview, a female passenger became trapped in the vehicle’s rear doors when they shut on her foot. Marcus felt her pain as acutely as if it were his own; he rushed to help the woman but he was overwhelmed with emotion and fainted before reaching her. When he opened his eyes he was laying next to her on the street as paramedics treated both of them. Marcus missed the interview and didn’t get the job. The next day he booked a consultation with me.

“Ghanshyam, I’ve been like this all my life,” he said, holding his trembling hand out for me to study. “Ever since I was a kid, people’s emotions have washed over me like a tidal wave—I feel like I’m constantly drowning. I’m 28 and have never kissed a girl. I can’t even show up for a job interview without passing out. I have my art, but I do that in my room, alone. Please help me—this loneliness is killing me.”

Examining his hand, I saw that Marcus had a fragmented Girdle of Venus, which I suspected was a major contributor to his troubles.

The Girdle of Venus has been described as a divine smile permanently stamped on our hearts as an inspiration to others. Ideally, it forms a gentle arc in the upper region of the palm linking Jupiter, Saturn, Sun and Mercury, the four mounts housing our highest forms of energy. The Girdle’s close proximity to the heart line reflects a deep capacity for empathy and an intimate connection with the spiritual realm. It also reveals a powerful creative energy that compels us to express the beauty and love within our soul. Many artists, humanitarians and those devoted to serving God possess a Girdle of Venus.

Unfortunately, a perfectly formed Girdle of Venus is rare; it is much more common to find a fragmented Girdle, like Marcus’s. A broken Girdle of Venus reflects pent-up passion and blocked creativity. In Marcus’s case, the broken Girdle of Venus, exacerbated by an underdeveloped Mars, denoting a depletion of energy, can result in feelings of insecurity, over-sensitivity, moodiness, frustration and erratic or self-destructive behaviour.

Marcus’s emotional sensitivity was crippling him socially and professionally; he was in danger of losing his ability to function in society, as his ill-fated bus ride painfully illustrated. I suggested he begin a daily meditation routine to center his energy, and taught him breathing exercises to keep his emotions in check. I also encouraged him to be less self-absorbed by being of service in his community, and to surround himself with caring people who would support his efforts to interact in the world in a helpful and healthy manner.

Marcus made steady improvement and, over the course of a year, his Girdle began to mend. Sadly, we fell out of touch when he moved to another town. I pray that wherever he is today, Marcus has a smiling Girdle of Venus in his palm, and a smile of happiness on his face.

If you would like to develop or repair your own Girdle of Venus, give us a call at 866-428-3799, or complete the form to book a consultation. We’re here to help.

 

 

 

I met Sister Margaret two decades ago at a conference she helped organize promoting forgiveness and reconciliation to achieve peace and harmony between people and nations. A vibrant woman in her late seventies, she believed forgiveness bestowed a double blessing, benefiting both the forgiver and forgiven—and she was living proof of the effectiveness of that philosophy.

When World War II broke out, Sister Margaret was a young Catholic nun working in rural Japan. She was arrested by Japanese soldiers and spent four years in a brutal internment camp. She suffered great deprivation and witnessed many atrocities, but never allowed her heart to be hardened by bitterness or hatred. After the war she stayed on in Japan to care for orphans, treat the wounded and help rebuild the country. Before returning to North America, she spent years travelling throughout Asia bringing aid and comfort to the poorest of the poor.

When our paths crossed, she was in the midst of performing an act of personal reconciliation and forgiveness. She’d invited former Japanese soldiers—her onetime enemies and captors—to attend her peace conference, and she embraced each and everyone of them with kindness and warmth. When I asked her why she did it, she replied: “Ghanshyam, we all struggle with darkness, but we are also all children of God, touched by Divine light. It is our job to let that light shine from us and help it shine in others. If we make that our mission in life we’ll all be better people, and this world will be a much better place.”

Sister’s Margaret’s altruism and spiritual wisdom moved me deeply; when I studied her hands I wasn’t surprised to find a beautiful Girdle of Venus hovering above her heart line.

The Girdle of Venus has been described as a divine smile permanently stamped on our hearts as an inspiration to others. Ideally, it forms a gentle arc in the upper region of the palm linking Jupiter, Saturn, Sun and Mercury, the four mounts housing our highest forms of energy. The Girdle’s close proximity to the heart line reflects a deep capacity for empathy and an intimate connection with the spiritual realm. It also reveals a powerful creative energy that compels us to express the beauty and love within our soul. Many artists, humanitarians and those devoted to serving God possess a Girdle of Venus.

A broken Girdle of Venus, however, reflects pent-up passion and blocked creativity, which can develop into feelings of insecurity, over-sensitivity, moodiness, frustration and erratic or self-destructive behaviour.

Sister Margaret lived into her nineties and never stopped working to create international and interpersonal peace, harmony, understanding and forgiveness. Her handprint, with its remarkable Girdle of Venus, is a lasting testament to a beautiful life, well-lived.

If you would like to develop or repair your own Girdle of Venus, give us a call at 866-428-3799, or complete the form to book a consultation. We’re here to help.

 

Several years ago an elderly woman named Candice strode into my office.

“Mr. Birla, look at my hand!” she demanded haughtily, thrusting her right palm across my desk.

“I am a 70-year-old widow and was faithfully married to the same man for 50 years . . . why are there two marriage lines on my hand?”

“My dear, your second union line suggests a new love is coming into your life,” I said with a smile.

“At my age?” she snapped. “Don’t be ridiculous Ghanshyam!”

“Love is ageless, Candice. Have you met anyone recently who has touched your heart?”

Candice admitted that a gentleman had been attempting to woo her.

“It started in the grocery store; we bumped carts in the frozen food section. He apologized, but I ignored him.

We kept running into each other at the store. He was always sweet and I always rebuffed him, even though he was charming, handsome and a widower like me. Then one day he touched my hand at the checkout counter and invited me to dinner.

“How dare you! Your wife is still warm in the grave, yet you flirt with every woman you see!” I yanked my hand away and told him to leave me alone. He continued being nice to me . . . and I continued to be mean to him. Eventually he gave up and I confess, I miss the attention.”

Candice had short fingers and flared nails. Short fingers react impulsively without considering the long-term consequences of their behavior; flared nails make us quick to lash out, especially when feeling provoked or threatened.

“Candice, did your husband complain about your prickly nature. My sense is that he supported you financially and that he was sickly . . . was your love bound up in feelings of dependency, duty and resentment?”

“It’s true. I depended on my husband and had to care for him . . . he always complained that I was intolerant, impatient and critical.”

I explained that a short Jupiter finger reflects an inferiority complex and a need to prove we are as good or better than other people. This comes across as arrogance when it’s really an attempt to hide feelings of inadequacy. Her short Jupiter was fueled by a large Mars negative—the accumulation of emotional hurts and dashed hopes that are often expressed through bitterness.

“Candice, your nastiness is defensive, but has become ingrained behavior. Your two union lines indicate you have a second chance at love. But you must learn to love unconditionally—be humble and accept affection with gratitude. Practice this consistently and you will re-program your samskaras—the desires, impressions and experiences we carry from one life to the next.”

When I saw Candice a few months later she told me that she’d taken my advice. When her supermarket gentleman asked her for a dinner date, she happily accepted and they soon began dating.

If you would like professional guidance regarding your love life, we’re here to help. Give us a call at 866-428-3799, or click the link to book a consultation.