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.