Transformative Update

“Does Reconnective Healing work for a frozen shoulder, or would I be best going to a Chiropractor?”

Now there’s a question.

It’s one I get asked often.  Replace the frozen shoulder with any other imaginable ailment; trapped nerve, kidney stones, stomach ulcer…

Here’s the stock answer:

Continue to consult your medical professional and take any medication you are prescribed.  Reconnective Healing® can and has been known to improve symptoms for a broad range of medical conditions without exception.  However, there are no guarantees.  You will always receive a healing, but we cannot predict the form the healing will take.

And there’s the rub.

We cannot predict the form the healing will take.

In other words, we cannot put our order in.

And more to the point, we cannot isolate one particular thing that we want healing.  It just doesn’t work that way.

But you wouldn’t lace somebody’s drink would you?

If somebody asked for honey and lemon for a sore throat, you wouldn’t just add whiskey without telling them because you thought it would be good for them.

So I have to warn people that these frequencies are powerful…

You might end up with a new job, a new relationship, a re-location, a different group of friends…

It could turn your life upside down.

 

Because Reconnective Healing helps re-connect you to Source.

And that is ALWAYS transformative.

 

When your phone tells you it needs a software update you click ‘I agree’ to the Terms & Conditions (does anyone actually read that small print?)

You know that the necessary data is transmitted wirelessly to your phone.  Information carried on frequencies that your phone is programmed, coded to admit access.  It only takes a couple of minutes, but once complete, the phone will function in a more efficient way, the download will have calibrated and adjusted all the settings.

And you don’t always know what you’re going to get.  (I didn’t mind the colour change of the icons, but that last trick with the entirely new layout deck took me a week to get my head around).

But then I can be a bit set in my ways.

The intension of a software update is to improve the model, provide a more efficient and comprehensive user experience, and increase security protection against viruses and corruption.

In an age of light technology, we get this.

 

So now I explain that Reconnective Healing® works by energy, light and information raising the frequency at which the human body normally resonates, to a higher, faster frequency that is less dense.  It is a progression towards a light body, which will be our next stage of human evolution.

How long it will take for us as a human race to ascend to this ‘new heaven and new earth’ is impossible to say.  But we can fast track by accessing these frequencies which accelerate our evolution process.  As individuals this means life progress – setting us on track to achieve our full potential and purpose in this incarnation.  And when we vibrate at a higher, lighter frequency, illnesses often fall away because dis-ease is caused by imbalance, and is dense in nature.  This manifests as improvement in physical health and symptoms as a side-effect of this evolution process.

It’s all a bit too Star Trek for some…

Especially since you only asked about your sore shoulder.

 

It’s a risk I have to take.

Some will make an appointment with the Chiropractor.

And some will find what they are looking for and click “I agree”.

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We Plant a Seed

That’s all we have to do.

What happens thereafter is a wonder to behold, and something we can only sit back and marvel at, without claiming any credit.  As a new allotmenteer I can vouch for that.  Our pumpkins were the envy of many a seasoned veteran, more than willing to agree with me when I put it down to serendipity – a happy accident.  Truth is, we don’t really have a clue what we’re doing being newbies on the allotment.  We’re just learning and can take no credit for our sumptuous pumpkin harvest.

The same can be said of the work I do as a Reconnective Healing Practitioner.  I haven’t really got a clue what I’m doing, and therefore can take no credit for the outcome – however disappointing or miraculous that may be.   When someone tells me that after speaking on the phone with me to make a distance healing appointment they had a spontaneous healing of a condition they have had for thirty years and find inexplicably they have no further symptoms I cannot account for that. (This person was phoning me from the south of France by the way – I am in the UK).   All I can do is stand in awe and in sincere humility say ‘it’s not me – I didn’t do that’.

Plant a seed.

Let go.

Let God.

The gardener knows he does all he can, using his knowledge and experience (often gained painstakingly from past mistakes) he will attempt to prepare the ground and arrange conditions as far as is within his power.  But beyond that the result is out of his hands.   When wonders unfold before his very eyes, he is truly humbled.  He knows he is witnessing a creative process that originates in the elusive something other beyond.  Therein he finds his joy – the honour, love and pride that comes from being a co-creator with this amazing Universe we inhabit.

We plant a seed.

And celebrate the harvest.

An Unexpected Gift

 

Thing is, I didn’t know it was there  Sitting on a shelf.  Waiting for me.

 

Uh-uh CLICHED ANALOGY WARNING:  the gift that has to be accepted….unrealised potential… lost opportunities… call to faith…

Well no actually –  it could be all of those things, but it isn’t.

 

I am just going to tell you about what happened when I went to the Post Office to ask about a missing parcel.

I’m standing in the queue listening to the man already at the counter making chit chat, thinking to myself ‘come on – hurry up, I’ve lots to do’.  Then immediately feeling guilty for thinking this because the man was in a mobility scooter and was probably taking longer than usual in part for that reason.   He was explaining that he was booked in for a residential term of intensive physiotherapy treatment because he wanted to walk again so he could return to work.

 

The postmaster raised his eyebrows.  “You want to walk again?”  he asked.

“That’s the idea,” was the reply, “I live in hope.”

 

Then the man manoeuvred his scooter awkwardly within the restricted space and exited.  I noticed he was a fairly young man – maybe in his thirties.  Certainly too young never to work again.

 

My turn now.

“It’s been here waiting for you”  says Postmaster Kevin, having asked for my name and address.

A few moments later, I am leaving the post office carrying my parcel.  Outside the mobility scooter is parked on the narrow street as the man puts away his cards and money.  I walk by.

 

I walk by.

 

It’s the kind of sentence that replays on a loop.

 

Even as I am crossing the road and turning the corner towards home I regret not stopping.  Not taking a moment to talk to him, and offer my help…

 

And the irony isn’t lost on me.

 

You see all morning I had been busy preparing for the upcoming Reconnective Healing Global Awareness Day this Saturday (24th September).   I had compiled two short animated videos using Adobe Spark (get me!) and I even shared ‘My Moment’ on my first ever You Tube video!

 

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It’s to upload to the Reconnection Facebook page with the promise that it will appear in the home stream at some point during the day.

 

So here I am, reaching out on the World Wide Web, but not seeing the person in front of me, on my doorstep in my little home town…

 

I stop.  A thousand thoughts flood into that millisecond.

 

You missed your chance, never mind, you don’t even know him, you can’t just start talking to strangers in the street, especially about healing, too random, you’ll scare him, he might get defensive, he might be offended, he might get aggressive, doesn’t matter, let it go…

 

“I live in hope…”

 

Routine and instinct is telling me to forget it.  But my hand reaches down to the front pocket zip of my bag.  And yes, there it is – my business card case.

 

Why did I grab this bag, the only smart-ish shoulder bag I have that I never use when I’m just popping to the shops?

 

That does it.   I turn.

 

I walk back up the street towards the Post Office, without allowing myself time to think. He’s still there, on his scooter.  But he’s started it up now – it’s whirring like a moon jet  and going at quite a pace.  I cross the road and step onto the pavement catching his eye.  He slows and stops, realising I want to speak to him.

 

To be honest I can’t even remember what my first words were.  Something about I couldn’t help overhearing him in the post office and I’m a Reconnective Healing Practitioner, like I’m announcing I’m MI5 swooping in to issue a protection order, I don’t know but I did it.

 

And it wasn’t so bad.

 

He didn’t look horrified, nor terrified, nor angry.  He asked me what it was again that I did.  I was able to explain that there would be lots of information online on Saturday with it being RH Global awareness day, and that details of where to look were on the card.

 

I also explained that though I’m obliged to advertise a fee, he mustn’t be put off by that.  I’d like to try and help him if I can, so we can sort something out if he feels he wants to contact me.

 

And that’s it.  I walk away, still holding my gift.   A hand-painted mug from a friend who has just opened an Etsy shop.

 

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I don’t know if the man will get in touch. I don’t know if it matters.

I don’t even know his name.

 

All I know is that I listened to that small voice.  The one we often ignore because it takes us out of our comfort zone.

 

It taught  me a valuable lesson today.

It taught me to stand back and take a reality check from time to time:

To see the contradiction of being so busy with my cyber-networking that I fail to notice the people around me.

To make sure that I am true and authentic – in real life what I purport to be on the internet.

To try to walk the talk in each and every moment.

 

Maybe that was the unexpected gift.

I’m Coming Out…

My new friends and neighbours still don’t know what I do and I am looking for a way to tell them.

The answer comes in the form of a newsletter my son brings home from school. There’s a little girl just six (we’ll call her Lily), one of twins, who has a form of cerebral palsy which means she has difficulty standing and walking unaided, and often suffers with pain in her limbs.   The family are fundraising to finance an operation that is only done in the US, and they are gaining a lot of support, but there’s still a long way to go.  The newsletter puts out an appeal to everyone to do what they can to help with the fundraising effort.

What can I do?

Reconnective Healing.

I play with the idea. How could it work?

I could hire a room at the Community Centre for a Saturday morning to coincide with the Craft Fair, offer short sample sessions for £15 (a huge reduction on the recommended fees)  and donate the proceeds to Lily’s fund.

This would be a good way to let people in my small town know that this is what I do.

A bit like coming out.

 

Feeling the fear but doing it anyway, I print off some posters for local shops to display in their windows. I make an ad, using an online app.  Then I tweet and share and tweet and share some more.

I even get a sign for the door printed by Vistaprint.

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The date approaches.

Despite my manic attempts at social marketing, frequent harassment  of my Facebook friends,  insistence that people don’t even have to turn up because distance healing works just as well, my phone remains pretty quiet.

Silent in fact.

All along I have shared my fears with the Universe in our quieter moments together.  What if no-one comes? What if I look stupid (ha – get used to that).  And the more pertinent question, what if it doesn’t work?  Yes, that devil on my shoulder is always there whispering doubt…

I’ll turn up if you do.

The nerves in my tummy are still there, but we have a deal. And somehow, deep down, I know the Universe won’t let me down.  I’ve done all I can now, I say.  It’s out of my hands.  Just send the people who need the healing.

The event is scheduled for Saturday.

Come Friday I only have two pre-bookings. One is from Nick the ‘egg man’ who generously gives me £20 up front for Lily but says he doesn’t want a session.  Another is from a friend with an art stall who I suspect just feels sorry for me.   That makes £35 – better than nothing.  But I’m worried I’ll be sat twiddling my thumbs on my newly acquired treatment couch while people amble past and head for the lemon curd, Nick’s eggs and various knitted creatures in pastel shades with button eyes mocking me pitifully.

 

It’s now 4 O’ clock, Friday afternoon. I call in at Jenny’s Flower Shop.   We’d had a conversation a couple of weeks earlier and  I remind her its tomorrow I’m doing my fundraiser.  Yes, she wants to book.   She’ll stick a note on her door ‘ back in half an hour’  before she opens the shop.   I have my third client.

Later, at 10pm I get a text. ‘Is it too late to book?’  And a fourth.

 

A calm smile begins to spread across my tummy.  I sleep soundly, trusting for the morning.

After my first session with Jenny, my artist friend takes her turn earlier than scheduled. We agreed a sign, husband and I, that he would hold a yellow card against the frosted window if another client is waiting.

And there it is, the yellow card!

One after another, they come…

And what happens in that room is amazing. Some people are very still but describe vivid internal experiences evoking an emotional response, others display stronger responses – twitching arms and legs,  shaking bodies, laughter.  Almost everyone looked somewhat incredulous afterwards.  Often finding it hard to comprehend; leaving the room talking about it in amazement… and others who overhear want a go.

 

And they’re not necessarily people I would expect; business managers,  a Town Councillor, a published illustrator, teaching assistant.  Professionals who are rational thinking, but curious enough to try something new and find out for themselves…

By twelve noon, seven people have come for Reconnective Healing, and some give more than the suggested donation so that the the total raised is an impressive £160.

Thank you Universe.

Funny how, when put to the test, faith always delivers.

I return home feeling elated and mildly dazed. Elated because once again I have confirmation that That Which Is, Holy Spirit, Love is guiding my steps and this whole new project .  Just a little reminder in case my ego steps in and whispers ‘well done’.  And dazed because having bathed in the Reconnective Healing frequencies for three hours I feel slightly disorientated and think I am beginning to experience an altered state of consciousness by inter-dimensional osmosis.

Then my eight year old son  spills ketchup on the new carpet and steps in it.

Hello again Earth.

Get a Room!

I need to get a room.

I am consumed with a passion I cannot contain.

 

But not the way you are thinking… Erhem.

 

My passion comes from a life-changing discovery that needs to be shared.

I’ve been changed.  I’ve seen the light.  I have to tell others about it.

 

I know , I know. I sound like a charismatic evangelist.   Only there are no doctrines, no rules –  no dogmas,  rituals or techniques.

Just a wonderful new something that is real, powerful and needs to be seen to be believed.

 

And I need a room to practise from so I can share this wonderful new something with others.

 

As a registered Reconective Healing Foundational Practitioner I have agreed to work within the organisation’s terms and conditions. The Standards of Practice stipulates ‘I will provide a safe, clean, professional and appropriate environment for client sessions.’

Where do I begin?

I assume I will need to rent somewhere, and I am worried that my costs will far outweigh my income for who knows how long into the future. I can’t even speculate because I have no known model to base it upon.  No way of knowing how soon I will manage to get any clients.  Most people I speak to have never even heard of Reconnective Healing.

 

I decide to add a testimonials page to my website, writing up the healing stories from friends and family so far (with permission and changing some names). It counts as anecdotal evidence that there really is  something in this,  and hopefully someone reading might be persuaded that Recnnective Healing may be able to help them.

 

Next I do an internet search for practice rooms. It doesn’t yield very promising results.

I begin by Trying to find a room at a holistic therapy group practise. But they want certificates showing my credentials, and details of the college at which I studied for my discipline.

 

I do have a certificate…

 

Certificate

 

…. for completing a four day seminar training programme in London.    It was held at the Kia Oval (yes, the cricket ground!)  I didn’t go to college.  I don’t have lots of letters after my name showing that I have studied really hard to learn my trade.   .

 

You see with Reconnective Healing there is just no need for a longer training programme involving months at college and lots of exams.   Reconnective Healing does not use any rituals or techniques.  As a practitioner I do not diagnose.  Nor do I treat a condition.  This means the success of a session isn’t dependent upon my skill as a practitioner:  indeed it isn’t about anything I do or say or think; nor whether or not I am any good at what I do.

 

It really isn’t about me at all.

 

Anyone can do it.

Anyone.

Yes, that means you.

 

All we learn during the training  programme is how to access the frequencies, feel them, become familiar with them and confident about ‘playing’ with them (one of Eric’s favourite terms).

 

The fact that people seem to report healings when we play in this way is quite remarkable. Astonishing.  Out of this world.

 

And it has nothing to do with me.

There is no place for ego in Reconnective Healing.

 

But I am discovering there is a downside to its simplicity.  It does mean that Reconnective Healing has quite some way to go before being accepted mainstream as a credible complimentary option in the UK.  Notwithstanding the Federation of Holistic Therapusts (FHT) refuse my application to join.

 

So I seem to have hit a dead end.

 

Maybe I don’t need to align myself with other holistic therapists. Maybe it doesn’t matter – I should just look for a room anywhere?

 

I stare blankly at the Google bar, waiting for inspiration…

 

Then I type in ‘rooms to hire, Truro’. (Truro is the only city in Cornwall  – I reckon it is important I have a base there.)

 

And I find something that looks rather promising.

 

The Cornwall Yoga Centre, situated very centrally and close to bus station and car parks, has rooms available for hire.

 

What’s more these rooms, which may be used for counselling services or therapies, can be hired as and when needed on an hourly basis. Equipment such as therapy beds are available and included in the price.  Success!

 

I have a room.

 

It is a ‘safe, clean professional and appropriate environment for client sessions.

 

And I am ready to roll.

To Facebook or not to Facebook

 

That is the question. They are telling me that Social Networking is the key to growth and it is a free self-promotion resource.  ‘They’ being the Marketing Consultants that have followed me on Twitter.  They give me tips about how to grow my followers and increase my list.

 

It’s all new to me, but I can see it makes sense, and I really don’t want to spend money I don’t need to on advertising that may or may not work.

 

So, naively I create a Business Page on my existing Facebook account. Most days I don’t even bother to comb my hair as I am either digging on my allotment or painting skirting boards wearing husband’s work jeans.  But thanks to Colin at Nirvana Hairdressing Company (real name used this time – happy to give a shout out) I look uncharacteristically well-groomed and have a reasonably decent photo to use.

Now I have completed the profile, Facebook is asking me to invite friends to follow my page.

 

I scroll down the list, and find myself ‘umming and aahing about this.  One by one I imagine the reaction of all these people to my new title: Reconnective Healing Foundational Practitioner…

 

You see, most of my friends, correction ALL of my Facebook friends belong to the ‘old’ me – my previous identity as a professional.  Most were colleagues I had taught alongside at the past three schools I worked at.  Others of course go back a long way – to my ‘ministry’ days even – Christian friends.  Did I want everyone to know I was doing this?  In truth I rather feared their reactions.  I can hear the raised eyebrows over cyberspace; sense their surprise, disapproval, judgement…

 

Maybe I can circumnavigate them?

 

You are laughing because YOU know how social media works.  Remember, I don’t.  Not at this point anyway.

 

I tick husband. He can know.  Best friend for twenty years plus is allowed in.  The colleague I had confided in and practised distance healing on – she’s OK.  As I read some of the other names I shudder at the thought of their reaction.  There’s one in particular, let’s call her Miss Dismissive.  This person I would regard a work colleague rather than a friend.  We never socialised outside work.  We don’t really have that much in common, and to be honest I found her a bit of a challenge.  She is loud and very vocal in her opinions.  Furthermore she is particular dismissive, even derisive, regarding anything to do with spirituality or religion and tells us repeatedly she doesn’t believe in ‘any of that rubbish’.  Miss Dismissive is blunt and speaks her mind, often unaware of the collateral damage this causes (you know the sort, right?).  Needless to say I don’t tick her box. In the end I have about eight people who I think are sensitive and open-minded enough to accept my new vocational choice without judgement.

 

That still leaves about 90% of them left in the dark. I’m playing safe.

 

It’s not long before I get a notification. Tracy (one of my trusted friends) has seen and liked my RHFP page.

 

Good, I now have two likes. Husband and Tracy.

 

Soon the others follow, and each time I am notified. I feel a sense of satisfaction that I am in control and things are going to plan.

 

Then something unexpected happens.

 

I am notified of a new page like. It is from someone I used to work with; a friend of Tracy who has seen that she has liked my page.  Woops – curve ball.  But it’s not too bad.  This person isn’t too much to worry about.

 

Then the penny drops. If this person know about my page (because of Tracy’s ‘like’), all of her other friends know, which is pretty much the entire staff of the previous school I worked at (Tracy is a popular lady).  And now this new person’s entire list of friends knows. The circle widens.  I guess that’s why it’s called a social network!

 

Hmmm.

Re-think.

 

I decide the best way forward is to bite the bullet and go for it. After all, nine page likes is a pretty paltry show, and makes me look a bit sad, should someone randomly land on my page and scan the likes to rate me.

 

I take a deep breath and start typing. I write a confident and friendly message on my timeline addressing ‘all my dear Facebook Friends’.  I explain that I am pursuing a long-held interest and have become a qualified RH practitioner.  I thank the people who have already liked my page, and I make a point of saying I value this as a sign of their support for my choice ‘even though it may not be your thing’.

 

Then I press ‘post’.

 

It feels liberating. Like coming out.

Like I am unashamedly saying “This is me – the real me.”

 

Now there’s nothing more I can do.

 

I have tried to explain to you who I am; what I believe in, what I am now doing and why it’s important to me.

And if I’m totally honest, I would really, really like your approval. That would be nice.  But if it doesn’t happen it’s OK.

 

It really is OK.

 

I shut the laptop lid. Get on with other things.  Put the washing in the drier.  Peel the spuds.  Get lost in the busy banter of family life as we gather for our evening meal.

 

It must be three hours later when I am next online. I have a notification.

 

This is good. And significant.  It must be the first response from the group I had deemed ‘unsafe’.

I touch the little globe icon showing the number one in red.

Yes, somebody likes my page – Jill Brennan: Reconnective Healing Foundational Practitioner.

 

And when I read the name I have to blink.

I really didn’t expect this.

My first ‘coming out in the open’ page like is from Miss Dismissive.

 

Maybe I’m the one with the lesson to learn:  not to be so quick to judge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A tiny stitch

London is behind me. I am back to my small (adopted) home town in North Cornwall.  It is a happy little community that is a mix of indigenous locals and immigrants like us who recognise its innate charm and under-rated profile.  It is not tourist territory.  Nor is it industrial.  This is exactly why we chose it.

 

We are a five minute drive from the sea. When I walk my son to school each morning (no traffic to contend with or parking space to find) we hear dove-call as we amble along the pebble-path along alleyways to the high street. The slower pace of life is what appealed to us.  But how easy will it be to set up a business as a Reconnective Healing Practitioner here?  What will the townsfolk make of me?

 

The final day of our training seminar was devoted to setting up your own practise. I need a clean, warm room to work from, and a treatment table.   I need public liability insurance, to register for tax and some form of effective advertising.  This is all new to me.   As a teacher I just turned up.  Well not exactly, but I wasn’t involved with the business side of things; tax and National Insurance being automatically deducted at source by my LEA.  I never had to think about it.

 

Now I will have to learn.

 

I make a start by building a website.  I like the creativity of choosing a template and playing around with different images and fonts to get the right format and style.  I go for a clean and professional look, but with warmth and personality in the content style.  Tomorrow I have a hair salon appointment.  I’ll ask husband to take some photos when I get back and choose the best to upload.   I’m quite enjoying myself.  Before I know it it’s time to stop for the school run.  I’m fairly pleased with how it’s looking so far.  But I know there’s more to being successful than having a fancy website.

 

I need a mission statement.

 

Something that will remind me of my purpose on days when it all seems a bit slow, like nothing’s happening , that I mustn’t become disheartened but must press on when I come up against obstacles  or have no clients.

 

Gosh this sounds so negative. But I’ve been reading up about self-promotion, social media and how to build your list and  all the platforms I need to be on and in truth I am feeling a bit daunted by it all.

 

Then I remember what Eric said: ‘some of you are finding your mission’.    That’s when the light went on.  Something inside said ‘YES’.  There was an emotional response.

 

I pick up my Bible. (OK I didn’t pick it up.  It wasn’t just there.  I had to fish it out from the bottom of a pile of boxes still in storage.)  But when I find and open it up my eyes fall upon some familiar words:

 

“Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.”

Philippians 1:6

 

I like the word ‘confident’. I am perfectly happy to take instruction to feel confident.  I am also aware that I’ve been brought to this place for a reason, and what’s more it’s not all about me.

 

It really isn’t just about providing me with a happy and fulfilling life; this may (and will) happen as a side-effect, but in truth I am but a tiny stitch in a vast tapestry. The real purpose expands far beyond me and is part of a grander, richer design.

 

This makes me feel better. It means I’m not in this alone.

We’re all in it together.

 

And this changes my perspective.

The pressure’s off.

 

I am not the Weaver.

I just play my part.

Bit by bit, little by little.

 

I can do this.

I can be one little stitch within the context of a weave where I am supported by the framework of the loom and all the other little stitches surrounding me.

 

I smile, log into Vistaprint and order some business cards.

Irreversible Change

One of the best things about being a primary teacher was teaching all the different subjects. I used to wear my white lab coat (from my King Technique days, remember) in the classroom whenever we had science and the kids thought it was fun.  They especially enjoyed the practical investigations whereby we might heat something up, like chocolate or butter to demonstrate a changing state.  Some things can reverse back to the state it was before; melted chocolate when cooled solidifies; ice returns to water when heated.  Other things, like bread becoming toast, raw egg fried, can not return to their former state.

The change is irreversible.

That’s just how I feel.

Irreversibly changed.

As I sit on the train home from London once the training seminars are over I am buzzing. Literally buzzing, like there is an electric current circuiting my body.  Everything about the last twenty-four hours seems surreal.  After the closing speech I did the usual sycophantic thing and had my photo taken with Eric Pearl.  I thanked and hugged him.  His body felt small, fragile – in contrast to his large personality.

 

That night I had a strange dream. The kind that feels very real.  I was lying on a couch – like a treatment table, but this one was covered with lights, circular and maybe other geometric shapes.  These lights were coloured, and went off in a sequence.  The sequence of the flashing lights was significant.  It reminded me of that game, ‘Simon’ I used to play as a child where you had to remember a pattern of lights and repeat it back correctly.  With each success the pattern would get longer and more tricky to recall.

In my dream I was watching myself lying on top of this bed with all these lights beneath me. Standing at the side of the bed was Eric.  It was as though I was being shown what happens during a healing session.  I remember that ‘AHA’ moment – ‘I get it now’, when I made a connection between the light patterns and the sensations I had felt within my body, that seemed to be like ‘little light tickles’ (as my eight year old son describes them) moving around inside in a grid-like pattern or sequence.

 

It felt important that dream, somehow. I can’t explain why.  Maybe I was being shown some lost knowledge – or some technology from the future?  Who knows…

 

Later I phone my Mum to tell her I am back home safely. I enthuse about the weekend, and she immediately says ‘Oh you’ll have to help your sister’, who I am told is suffering from lower back pain – so severe she can hardly get out of the car.

 

I phone her and explain that I will ‘do’ some healing for her.

“Why?” she says, ‘Where are you?  She thinks I must be in Yorkshire, close enough to call in.

“Cornwall”

I explain I can do it by distance. And tell her about the ‘experiment’ we did in London whereby people were displaying registers remotely corresponding to changing movements we were making with our hands 30 feet away.  It’s something to do with quantum physics, I say.

“Oh my word!” She is incredulous.  But she agrees to me having a go on her.  But she asks for the name and phone number of my (ex) chiropractor anyway, just in case…

 

Later that evening she reports that the pain is easing slightly. The next day when I ask her how she’s feeling, she says much better.  She is walking as normal without discomfort.  She never made that appointment with the chiropractor.

 

She doesn’t know what to make of it, but wants to find out more. I order her a copy of ‘The Reconnection: Heal Others, Heal Yourself’ from Amazon.  I want her to understand what it is I do now and what has happened to me.

How I like a fried egg have undergone a change.

An irreversible change.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Meeting Eric Pearl

He’s coming to the UK. Eric Pearl.  London.

It’s not exactly on my doorstep and the seminars are pricey. But I have to go.  I just have to.

I have to know for certain once and for all if it is true. I have to ‘test the spirits’ as they say.  Is Eric Pearl the genuine article or a false prophet?  I don’t know.  But I do know that I will know when I meet him in person and spend four days in his company.

I book my place on the training programme in May. I buy my train tickets online in June, book my accommodation in July, spreading the cost.

 

When I step into the conference room I am overwhelmed with the amount of production – the large screens at either side of the stage and the cameras. And a whole host of people behind production, pushing buttons, sliding levers, making the whole thing super-sized and sensational.  It jars with me at first.  I associate it with those Saturday night TV talent shows where over-production becomes easily equated with fakery and deception.

And I’m not sure what to make of Eric Pearl at first, to be honest. He is like a caricature of himself, with his drag-queen sarcasm, strutting around in his Italian silver-plated heels like Armani Versace.  Can this man really be the chosen vehicle for evolutionary advancement of humanity?

I’m not too sure.

Later I am to discover there is a valid reason for the cameras and magnified image. When table work is being demonstrated from the front, we are asked if we can identify the more subtle ‘primary registers’. The tiny flutters behind closed eyelids, the subtly pulsing veins in the neck – how else would we see this? Would all seventy-five of us crowd round the table, struggling to see? Or take turns to walk by which would take ages and eat into our valuable training time?

Back in my hotel room I sulk. I realise that I am prejudiced.  Maybe it’s a test. I must learn to suspend my judgement.

“Show me what you have bought me here to learn,” I say to God.

He just smiles and says nothing.

 

The next morning I feel completely different.   I wake up with a sense of knowing.  Knowing that when we are willing to face up to something about ourselves, and genuinely ask to be shown something new, revelations flood in.  And it is always progressive.  It is always good.  I just know that today will be a good day.

And it is.

The highlight for me is during the afternoon table work. We stand, three of us around each table with one lying down.  One with hands at the head, one at the middle, the other at the feet.  When prompted we rotate so we all get a chance to be the receiving ‘client’.

Something in the room changes. The air becomes thick with the Holy Spirit (I say this because I recognise this from years before in large gatherings on Spiritual Days – the distinctive character and quality is exactly the same) .  Eric Pearl is guiding us through some ‘nuances’ of working with and feeling the frequencies.  The showman is gone.  His voice is gentle, sincere, sensitive.

“Look at the person who is lying on the table,” he is saying.  “Find in that person something to love.”  I feel exhilarated and overwhelmed at the same time.  This is my calling.  I know it, I feel it.  The same calling I felt twenty years ago that first took me into ministry.  There has been no diversion, no detour.  This is a continuation,  an evolving process, progressive revelation.   As I am thinking this I hear Eric’s voice continue. “Some of you just now are finding your life’s mission – it is a high calling.”

My soul dances. My spirit soars.  Tears flow.  I am flooded with joy.  He has no idea what this means to me – what he has just said.

And I have my answer.

Eric Pearl is a good man with spiritual integrity.

And I also know why he was chosen.

So that we would all think…

“IF THAT LITTLE SHIT CAN DO IT, SO CAN I!”

(Eric’s words not mine, I hasten to add.)

And how I laugh.

I laugh and laugh, till tears wet my cheeks once again.

Because now God has spoken.

And I have heard.

 

 

‘Real heat – soothing heat’

I can’t wait to test it out – these new healing powers that seem to have shown up in my front room through the crumby-edged screen of my Kindle.

But it’s not the sort of thing you can just bring into conversation easily. “Can I practise some healing on you?”

At work, in the staff room, I stick to the safe usual banter and in-house talk that punctuates our gobbled sandwich-eating between marking books and a quick glance over the afternoon’s planning.  But I do confide in a colleague whom I know well enough to trust with a confidence.  Emma is interested and curious, mentioning her own lower back problem.  “Maybe it could help me,” she says lightly. Before we know it we’re arranging a trial distance healing session for the same evening.

Back at home, after delegating the washing up to teenage daughter (now that’s going to happen) I head up to the room we use as a kind of office (meaning it has a desk and printer in one corner, and some built in storage, but other than that is quite a nice-sized empty space). Shutting the door behind me I stand in the middle of the room.  I recall what the practitioner had told me when I’d asked about distance healing.  How he said he would go into the treatment room and work around the table as though the client was there.

WHAT?

I found this intriguing. And did it work?  I’d asked.  Did the person feel the same sensations they would feel if they were present in person?  Surely not!

‘Oh yes,’ he’d said.

“And did people experience healings?”

“Yes.”

UNBELIEVABLE.

Yet I so want it to be true.

 

Looking at my phone I see that the time shows 6.30pm. Emma will be lying down in a quiet place as arranged,  waiting.  I will send healing for 20 minutes.  She will then text afterwards to report back.  This is what we have agreed.

I take a few deep breaths. I’m feeling nervous.  I’m also feeling a bit self-conscious.  What would people think if they could see me now – standing in an empty space, raising my hands, floating them around, over and above  … nothing.  No treatment couch, no client.

They’d think I was a total nutter.

I probably am.

But then, within moments the familiar prickling sensation begins.  Tiny electrical currents dancing across the surface of my palms.  I move my hand in a circular motion, pulling and stretching the ‘energy’ to see how the sensations change.

I feel like a child playing. I’m totally focused in the moment, thinking of Emma but noticing subtle nuances at the same time.  What will happen if I reach up here?  How about circling my fingers like this…. Or what if I dart them like ray-guns?

I notice a tingling along my left calf… then the back of my hand is alive, pricking like a pincushion.

 

I’m surprised to see that 20 minutes have passed and it’s time to stop. I leave it a few moments then I pick up my phone and start texting

‘did you feel anything?’

Then delete. It makes me too vulnerable.  How would I take it if she said no?  I re-phrase – making it more playful, less important:

“Haha – hope that was as good 4 u as it was 4 me.”

It’s still a risk I know.

My heart is pounding. I feel strangely excited.

Am I seriously expecting her to have experienced anything out of the ordinary?

My phone beeps.

I read the screen…

Lol! First I got tingling in my feet then warmth spreading up through my spine into my neck and the back of my head. Real heat, soothing heat!

I can’t believe my eyes. She really felt something?

How did THAT happen?

She lives twenty miles away for goodness sake.

I feel exhilarated, confused, excited, and maybe a little bit scared.

This is something else. This changes everything.  You can’t just walk away from something like this.

 

“How’s your back?” I ask Emma on Monday when we’re back at work. She tells me that on Friday, after the session she felt a lot more comfortable and  the warm feeling stayed with her all  evening.  Not only that, the pain didn’t return at all over the weekend.

 

Sometimes what you hope for just happens.

Sometimes The Universe just gives you a great big YES.