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!





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.


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…


(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.


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?”



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.

Curly-wurly straw

I want to know what it feels like – Reconnective Healing.   This book I’m reading fascinates me – draws me in.  Especially the stories of unusual, supernatural experiences people had when they visited Eric Pearl for a chiropractic adjustment, and ended up getting far more than they expected (a life-changing miracle in some instances).

Are the sensations really so very tangible?

Would I have any sensory experiences; sights, sounds, smells?

Will my fingers, arms, feet twitch involuntarily?

Can I receive a healing?


There’s only one way to find out.

I look on the online directory to find a Reconnective Healing Practitioner close to where I live.


The room is quite large – it is a clean, pleasant space. A lamp adds a warm glow and a pot plant a homely feel.  I take off my shoes and glasses and lie on the treatment table.

What am I hoping for?

I should perhaps tell you about 20 years ago I was diagnosed with Kerataconus, a degenerative condition whereby the cornea is mis-shaped causing impaired vision. I have had corneal grafts in both eyes.  Both transplants were successful, but the refraction (especially in my right eye) remains compromised even with corrective lenses.

I would like perfect vision.

If only we could put our order in.

As I lie on the table with my eyes closed I feel heat around my head and an impression of light pressure across the top of my skull. I also feel a twinge or ‘poke’ (again very lightly) on my face, at the base of my left jaw.

The practitioner has told me that the healing is done ‘hands off’ and at no point will he touch me. As he moves around me I begin to feel subtle sensations at first, down my arms and legs, slight tingling, and occasionally a sense of pulling, like a string being gently tugged (this was mostly felt down the arm and leg of my right side).  At one point I feel the unmistakeably sensation of something sweeping or brushing against the surface of my leg, like something being swiped over it.  It doesn’t necessarily feel like hands, but has some weight to it, more dense and definite than the earlier subtle sensations.  There are three of these, one at the top of my leg, the next further down, just above the knee, and the third below my knee, each time on the right side.  Afterwards I feel what I can best describe as a sensation of raindrops down my right leg (mainly below the knee).  Although I don’t feel any wetness, the sensation is akin to water droplets in its flow and movement, and how I perceived it.  Then, unmistakeably, a sensation of a string being pulled, unravelled to be more precise.  If not a string, a tube, like one of those curly-wurly straws, with water being sucked through it – I am aware of the twists and turns, of something moving INSIDE MY LEG.  And all the while my body feels relaxed, and indeed very heavy, as though I couldn’t move if I tried.  Yet very peaceful.  Very loving.  It is as though this energy is holding me, and supporting me at the same time.  As the practitioner moves around my body I feel the energy building and swelling until ultimately I have the sense of being encased in a kind of pulsating capsule – yes the energy really is pulsating and throbbing around me, intense and tangible.  On two occasions I feel hands touching me. Once just below my collarbone on the right side, and the once I have a sensation of being stroked on the back of my left hand.


After the session I soon realise that an injury in my lower back feels different, noticeably by the absence of any pain on moving and the dull ache that has become ‘normal’. I had been told by my chiropractor that I had damaged my sacro-iliac (SI) joint, and trapped a nerve.  The good news – he could treat it, the bad news – he could not cure it.  It is an area that doesn’t heal easily due to lack of soft tissue, and therefore will probably continue to be an area of weakness from now on.  He said.


But the pain isn’t there anymore. Not even the ghosting of an ache.


Later I cancel my pre-scheduled appointment with the chiropractor because I have no joint pain, nor sensation of a trapped nerve anymore.

It is as though the injury never happened.


There is no change to my vision.

But I am not discouraged.


 “If you’re lucky, your healing will come in the form you anticipate.  If you’re really lucky, your healing will come in a form you’ve never even dreamed of – one which the Universe specifically has in mind for you.”

Dr Eric Pearl


I have a feeling that the best is yet to come…


My Holy Grail

They say that just holding it in your hands is sometimes all it takes to be affected by the energy – to begin to feel the frequencies.

The book. I’m talking about the book.  Not THE BOOK –which granted has already changed my life, or shaped it to this point, but a more humble paperback which was to influence where I went from here – the next stage of the journey.


I didn’t actually have a physical copy of the book to hold in my hand. I had downloaded it from Kindle, remember, with an impulsive flick of my finger on the one-click setting.  But that didn’t seem to matter.  I COULD feel it.  A slight, warm tingling at first that intensified to pin-pricks that indicated undeniably something akin to an electrical current was flowing in and through my body.


The Reconnection: Heal Others, Heal Yourself tells the story of how Eric Pearl, a chiropractor in LA, began to feel similar sensations after receiving some form of quantum re-calibration from a gypsy woman he met on a beach. I’m not selling it very well, I know. You’re thinking it’s all a bit whacky-do.  The point is, his patients began to experience cures.  Incredible, miraculous cures.  And rather than enhance his professional success, he began to lose clients.  It all became a bit too strange.  Indeed he knew himself he was dealing with something ‘off the scale’ which would take some re-adjustment on his part, and on the future direction his life would take.


I won’t go into more detail. You can read the book for yourself should you have a mind to.  Suffice to say, that what he came to name “Reconnective Healing” is indeed a form of healing that appears to be newly accessible to us, and that anyone can learn.

Eric Pearl now dedicates his time to travelling the world, teaching others how to access these frequencies to facilitate healings.


What is most surprising to me is the ease with which I picked up these sensations just from reading the book. There is a section that instructs you on how to try it out at home on friends or family members.

Once again husband became guinea pig. As I let the palm of my hand float about four inches in front of his open palm I began to feel sharp pin-pricks randomly at different points on the surface area of my skin.

As I ‘hit on’ a sensation I stayed with it, refining and stretching, as I had read about and seen Eric demonstrate on the You Tube videos I had watched.

‘What do you feel?’ I ask.

‘A sort of breeze on the back of my hand,’ he replies. ‘And it feels as though it’s being pulled, like a magnet. It’s weird.’


Yes, it is weird. But very exciting.


A few days later our eight-year old son returned from school with a slight limp. He says he hurt his knee when he fell playing football.  When he was still limping a day later I asked if I could try to heal him.


It was then I had the idea to test out one method of healing against the other.


First I ask him to sit on a stool (a white stool, it must be white).   I go through the procedure of the King Technique.  Now the full thing takes  about thirty minutes, if you do it correctly, and I didn’t want to leave any bits out in case it wouldn’t work.  (Even as I write this I realise how wrong it all sounds).    Whereas some people might enjoy the hands-on focussed attention for a full half-hour, and regard it as quality time, eight-year old boys have a tendency to get restless and wriggle about.


He tells me he felt some heat from my hands, but his knee still hurts. I leave it a couple of hours before a second attempt using the hands-off Reconnective Healing approach.


This time it doesn’t matter where he sits, or what colour the chair is. In fact I ask him to lie down on the sofa, which he is quite happy to do.


There is no beginning ritual. No counting the number of sweeps in a certain direction.  No visualising white light.  So I can relax a bit.  I have freedom to begin how I choose.  Instinctively I raise my arms above his head, slightly to the side and kind of swoop into his field, a bit like a gentle big dipper motion.  And there it is, the first ‘indicator’ – a little nip in my palm.  I pause, stay with the sensation, circling it, pulling it higher.  My son begins to respond.  I notice his closed eyelids flicker slightly.  Then I move slowly across his face.  At his right shoulder I sense another ‘prick’, in the tip of my index finger this time.  I move my hand so the sensation is localised in the centre of my palm.  Then I rotate, stretch, ‘playing with it’ as Eric likes to say.

At this point my son gasps, and reaches down to touch his knee.

“Ooh… I felt something in my knee,” he says.  “Like a little tickle.”


I wasn’t anywhere near his knee. And I was working on the left side of his body (at the other end) not the right.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Immediately I want to test it out. The book tells me a healing can be instantaneous – there doesn’t need to be a set length of time for sessions in order for a healing to ‘work’.   So I ask him to get up and put some weight on it.

He does, and he can’t feel any pain.

He starts running around the room. Then he is out of the door and I don’t see him again until tea time.  But there is no limp this time.


I feel uplifted and inspired.

This is more like it. This is natural, intuitive and I don’t feel compromised in any way by taking on new rituals or belief patterns.

I think this is it. This really is it.

I’ve found my Holy Grail.









Cappuccino and Vogue

I love going to the hairdressers.

I love it because for the next two hours (if I’m having foils done) I have permission to sit and do nothing, apart from maybe flick through a Vogue or Harpers and Queen if I feel like it, and sip a cappuccino and nibble my little complementary chocolate with salon wrapper.

No lesson plans to prepare, no hoovering, hanging out washing, ironing or squirting Toilet Duck. No standing in a queue at the supermarket listening to a loop recording of pseudo-artists singing pop songs badly, no trying to find a parking space, or bustling through crowds to avoid a parking fine.  It’s a little gift of grace, this sanctified space of suspension from the usual obligations of everyday life.

Sheer heaven.

My hairdresser Jo, is another gift of grace.  Not merely because she’s the only hairdresser I’ve found who knows what to do with my ‘mind of its own’ hair, but because she’s quite a mystic, our Jo. Dressed all in black with her long, silver chains, her Vivienne Westwood shoes and platinum white bob, it’s not what you would expect.  And I’ve come to look forward to our whispered, semi-secret conversations under the hairdryer about the meaning of life, the power of affirmations, and wonders of metaphysics.

On this occasion I am telling her about my recent experience of healing, the clicking bones inside my Mum’s arm.

“Have you heard of Reconnective Healing?” she asks, somewhat off-piste.


I explain I am using the King Technique, and continue to explain what this involves.

I should have known better. I should have known it was a little drop of angel dust upon the conversation.  But I was oblivious at the time…

The conversation progresses to other things and the moment is forgotten.


Weeks later I am browsing the web again, ever on the lookout for further reading about developing spirituality, in particular with regard to my area of interest, healing.

I chance upon “The Reconnection: Heal Others, Heal Yourselves” by Dr Eric Pearl.

A quick scan of the blurb and I am immediately drawn in because once again it affirms that anyone with an interest can learn how to heal. Anyone. This is just what I need to hear.

It also tells me there are no rituals or techniques to Reconnective Healing. Hmm, after my recent experience of a healing method heavily reliant on technique I’m even more interested.  Reading on I learn that Eric Pearl is not a psychic medium, born with a special gift, yet one day, he just found that the ability came to him.  Interestingly, this was after a period of crisis in his own life.  It seems to be that at the point of brokenness and vulnerability transformation happens, and with it the opening up of an entirely new direction.


I am suitably convinced that I need to read this book. I touch ‘buy with one click’ and soon I am turning the pages of the book that will change my life more than I realise…