Once I discovered that dancing, above and beyond all else, could help me heal, I became very curious about why. Primarily, I wondered if the healing power of dance was the product of vibrations from music.
That in turn led me to become very curious about the potential of healing vibrations emanating from everything and everyone — sky, trees, water, people. I started experimenting, seeing the world around me as one big, fat radio, and working to tune my dial into those “stations” with healing frequencies.
Essentially, it was a shift in consciousness: I recognized the possibility that something powerful existed beyond the realm of (and yet always had been a regular part of) my daily experience. I invited and made myself receptive to a very particular field of energy.
I began walking around like a sponge of sorts — my soul asking (non-verbally) everything and everyone around me if they had some healing power to share, then opening to the energetic vibrations that came my way.
To that end, I incorporated information I had read about a study on the power of prayer: In what I understood to be a controlled study, one group of sick individuals had people praying for their healing, and another did not. Nobody knew who was being prayed for and who wasn’t, but the people being prayed for healed faster.
Having traveled in touchy-feely circles for many years, I knew there were always people around the world (like me) praying for the well-being of everyone and directing healing energy to people who especially needed it. So I decided to tune into those frequencies of prayer and receive the healing energy myself.
Whenever I was able to really tune in — to the prayers, to fish in the ocean, to smiling people walking by, to healing spirits traveling the earth — I felt immediately calmed and soothed. I felt powerful, hopeful. I felt my body healing.
Once, when tuning in to the healing vibrations of stars in the sky, I was able to actually see the vibrations — like physical matter I could cut with a knife.
Experiences like those were so powerful, and so out of the realm of so-called “reality,” that they often confused and scared the hell out of me. Sometimes I shut down after an experience like that. Often, I decided that I had just made the whole damn thing up.
To her credit, my mom kept saying that I was “onto something.” She kept encouraging me to trust myself and see myself as my own healer. She was convinced I had special powers.
My so-called special powers, I would argue, were very touch-and-go, making it questionable whether they existed at all. “You’re just at the beginning,” she would reply. “You’re just discovering these things. Keep on going. Give it time.”
I doubted my mom the same way I doubted myself. It was only this past summer, after I read a book by Adam — also known as DreamHealer — that I began to take myself seriously.
As a young boy, Adam had all kinds of freaky experiences: Objects would fly towards him, his bicycle would suddenly flip in the air while he was riding it, lots of weird stuff that nobody initially believed.
Meanwhile, for years, his mom had regular and excruciating migraines. She would go into her bedroom, lie down, and scream in agony. Nothing could be done to relieve her pain.
One day, when his mom was in the middle of this episode, Adam instinctively went into her room, put his hand on her head, and energetically pulled the pain out. His mother immediately stopped screaming, and as I understand it, she never had another migraine episode again.
I could not put the book down.
Suddenly I knew, without a doubt, that everything I had experienced was real. My power to tap into universal energy certainly was not as developed as Adam’s, but I had not made up my abilities.
I feel a certain amount of embarrassment that it took my reading about someone else’s experience to trust my own. Characteristically, I am bold: From a very young age, I have thought for myself, stood up for my convictions, and staked out to pave new paths. So why couldn’t I trust myself on this one?
More about that in another post.
Meanwhile, to finish the story about reading the book: I was visiting a friend at the time, and she’d handed the book to me before I went to sleep. It was well after 2 a.m. by the time I put it down. I was in an altered mental state by then – excited, terrified, feeling profoundly attuned to the universe.
Sometime after I fell asleep, I was woken up. By a spirit. (Stick with me here.) I’m a little fuzzy on the details now, but I recall that he was a Caucasian man around 60ish years old, with a white beard.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back against the wall (near my head), legs stretched forward in front of him, eyes looking straight ahead. He had a gentle, mischievous energy about him.
When I woke up, he was directly in my line of vision. I could not see who he was talking to, but I presume it was another spirit: “She’s going to really freak out when she wakes up,” he chuckled.
I was frozen. Absolutely frozen. What the fuck is the protocol for interacting with a spirit?! I frantically searched my mind for the answer, then realized there was none.
“Eema!” (Hebrew for “mom”) I finally screamed out. With that, the spirit was gone. (Behold: the protocol.)
The next day, when I told my friend and her roommates — who own the house — about the experience, they asked what the spirit looked like. I told them every detail I could remember back then. “You’re describing the man who used to own this house before he died,” the roommates replied. “The room you were sleeping in was his bedroom.”
Talk about tuning in.