Healers

My Volvo nosed into 33 Tia Lane at precisely 7:20 p.m.. My daughter was timely in delivering me to my meeting.  Just as I opened my car door, a tall. fit-looking man, emerged from a modest cape-style house. 

“She’ll be done at 7:50 - you can get her then.” 

I waved good-bye to my daughter, and moved toward the unknown.  I had arrived on Dave Merritt’s porch via the recommendation of a close friend.  She had a severe health problem than had stymied doctors in Boston.  Her time spent with Dave challenged her understanding of medicine and healing.  She believes that he was instrumental in her recovery.  Dave is a healer.

With little introduction, other than hellos, Dave led me through his kitchen, down to his basement.  It was dark as we wended our way through a warren of walls toward a dimly lit room.  In it, there was a round coffee table with some kind of memorial in the center. Surrounding the table were eight or so chairs, two of which were redlining leather chairs, the other were were wooden table chairs.  The set-up resembled a camp-fire.  Outside the circle, I saw angels and religious artifacts whose purpose I did not know.  I came to Tia Lane having opened my mind and heart to this process. I had to suspend my tendency to deal clinically in a Western-mind set.

Mike introduced me to the two women who were seated in the circle with me.  Both of them were concluding their studies with him so that they could become healers themselves. This was their healing apprenticeship. I volunteered to be a subject on whom they could practice. The only information, absolutely the only information, they had about me, my health or my life was my name and that I was present in the room with them.  I did not offer that I had arrived with a raging migraine, that I had Ehler’s-Danlos Syndrome or that I had been on the Vineyard for a period of reflection. Dave explained that they were on a tight schedule. They had another healing at eight.  Getting right to it, I would be asked to stand for a period of five minutes, if I was able. They would each, individually, do a reading on me and assess my electomagnetic state as well as my energy.  Then, I would be asked to recline on massage table.  Once there, they would continue there exam and begin the healing.  He asked if they might, if led to do so by either their medical guides or angelic healers, touch me lightly through my clothes. “Would that be alright?” I acquiesced willingly.

I chose to stand with my eyes shut during the entire exam. Honestly, I felt the hint of a giggle attack coming on.  I was stuffing down my tendency for humor and quick-witted repartee that I employ in situations that I find uncomfortable.  This was one.  I keep my eyes shut and stood still.  After the first couple of minutes, I settled in.  I noticed the cool air blowing on me. I felt the presence and could hear the healers breathing as then moved around me.  Gradually, I felt something else entirely, I felt a strong magnetic like pull of them toward me. I felt their hands. My eyes were shut tightly, but I knew at all times exactly where their hands were and which of the people where in my presence. 

I was conscious of my head pounding, but was grateful the room was twilight dark and not exacerbating my headache. 

Dave asked me to lie down. They were exceedingly respectful and thoughtful to position me in such a way that I was comfortable. The blanket they placed over me was a surprisingly welcomed touch.  The healing began with me lying on my stomach.

First, I felt hands moving, scanning my body. After less than a minute, the hands landed; two on my neck, cradling my head, two on my hips, two on my feet.  We all stayed in that configuration for several minutes.  Then, as if choreographed, the hands moved, on my knees, on my ankles, on my shoulders. Then held. This placement, holding, movement continued for about fifteen minutes, then I turned over.  Again, my head, my hips, my feet.  My stomach gurgled loudly, resonating in the quiet room.  I noticed my headache wasn’t hurting as much just before I fell asleep.  A quiet voice pulled me back, “Dawn, when you are ready, you can sit up.  Go slowly.”

I joined the healers in the circle.  We sat together without talking for about thirty seconds. Dave apologized for the brevity of my session because they are typically longer.  It was already eight o’clock.  I thought that was it.

I was okay with that, hey my headache was better.

Then Dave asked the healers if they would like to share their experiences with me.  

The first one spoke,

“I feel deep, deep bone pain. I can feel it through out your entire body. There is some kind of toxicity that is very powerful in your bones.”  I kept my words to myself, but felt my mouth open.

The other healer say, “You have an imbalance in your head, in the cochlear region.  Your balance would be a problem, you must have trouble with your equilibrium. I get something systemic with connective tissue.  It affects all of you. You need to use hot baths with epsom salts my spirit guides told me. The healing properties of the ocean would be very good for you, if you can tolerate the cold. You wound benefit from very gentle massage, especially in your hamstrings and achilles tendons.”

Back and forth, two of the healers shared their impressions, findings and advice.  

“You are remarkably emotionally balanced. I get that you have just come through an emotional hump of some sort, but you are good now. You came through stronger.”

My mouth had found a new, fixed position, open. Finally, they turned to Mike, as if deferring to his skill. 

“Do you have anything to add?”

In addition to the catalogue they had iterated, He felt I had something going on in the upper left quadrant of my abdomen. Maybe a parasite or an unresolved infection that was interfering with the proper absorption of food, maybe affecting my nutrition.  He told me he had the same impressions about bone, balance and recent emotional release. Finally, just as I started to express my unmitigated astonishment at their insights, Dave interjected, “Oh, she told me to tell you,’ You will be better.’ You will be better than you are now.”

I was flummoxed by all the information they shared with me. They had identified the EDS, the problem I had with using Reclast, my balance issues, that I had been through a tumultuous period emotionally.  They got that I had frequent headaches that I had plantar fasciitis and that oh, man, give me hot epsom soaks three times a day!  How?  Who were these angels and guides that whispered to them. They regretted that the time was cut short, they had more to offer, but they had to keep a phone healing session scheduled for someone from Texas.  They offered to work with me more when I next return to the Vineyard.  I was touched.  ‘The healing we have done will work over time,” they said. “We prayed for you before you came and we will continue to pray for you.”

My hugs were theirs’ -- and I departed.

My ride was not out front when I left, so I headed in the direction of home, buoyed by hope and bolstered by their encouragement.

A Direct Experience part two of Walking Through Walls

From some far-off and distant place, I sensed someone said, “Have John come over.”  I could not feel the ground where I was lying, I could not feel my body, I could not hear.  I

was aware of light. Warm, yellow light. I was part of the light, but separated in some way. There was a brighter, more enveloping light ahead of me that drew me as if it was a magnet and I was composed of magnetic filings.  There was no thought. There were no words. There was knowing.  This part sounds verifiably crazy. I have not ever discussed this experience.  The light of which I was a part was universal, infinite and all-consuming. All cares ceased.  This place was a place of love. It heralded peace, it was peace. In my understanding of this place, I was one with God. I was also one with all the spirits of all the souls who did not inhabit bodies.  While I was there, I was filled with a joy like I had never known. I resisted returning to my body, which I could see beneath me, far below on the ground. However, my instructions - or my understanding, since words did not have meaning and communication was in a language of light - were to return and carry the message. Of love, of light, of hope.  It was more than a message, it was more than a commandment.  In a realm of knowingness and light, everything was clear.  There were no ripples upon the pond of perfection. With a profound sense of sorrow, I felt pulled back, as if by gravity, into consciousness of my body and into my life.

John, the leader of the Leadership Intensive Workshop, was beside me, holding my hand, taking the pulse in my wrist. He was murmuring softly to me, but I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. Gradually, like fog lifting, I was oriented and John was saying, “You gave us quite a scare there, Dawn. Where have you been?” My eyes welled up because I had left behind all of that glory. My eyes welled up because I didn’t know how, couldn’t imagine how, to explain what had happened. I felt a loss like no other. I had been present with those who had gone on before me and, once again, I lost them. I did not recognize them by shape or form, but by spirit. It was a profound diminishment to return to my very human form, full of its foibles and frailties and uncertainty. I had been witness to perfection and had communed with God.

My time at the Leadership Intensive changed me. I do not know if I was the only one to have had a direct experience of God.  John told me I was special. He quoted Matthew 22:14 of the Bible, "Many are called, few are chosen." He told me that somehow, while meditating, my respiration dropped to five per minute, my pulse was down to sixteen.  Since respiration of somewhere around 16 and a pulse of 72 is considered “normal,” something took place during my meditation. John Thompson told me that the workshop was designed to maximize the opportunity for participants to have a deep and meaningful experience. We were seated crossed-legged on the floor. Each of us had a moat of pillows surrounding us. In my case, the pillows prevented a head injury when I toppled over.  After that initial experience, I was able to have brief glimpses of that gloryful light during subsequent sessions.  Never for as long, never for as an intense period. My knowledge that there is an omnipresent and omnipotent power was forever fixed. 

In the twenty-seven years since that time, I have kept virtually silent about my direct experience of God.  It has been a deeply personal and private knowledge that has been a gift.  Two things precipitated my willingness to speak at this point.

Last summer, after my second hip replacement, things went awry.  There were about six hours that I was in the most intense pain of my life. Childbirth was a distant second.

At a time that I felt most cut off and alone, when I was out of my head with agonizing, intolerable pain, I found myself back, bathed in that light.  It was a joyful reunion with God and all the many people whom I have loved and who have died.  I was conscious of both worlds simultaneously.  When I left the encompassing light of God again, I understood I was to carry the message of love, of light, of hope to others.  

Anita Moorjani is a writer who delivered a salient, succinct and inspiring account of a near-death experience she had in 2006.  She was declared hours away from her death by her doctors.  After surviving what was deemed her death, Anita returned to  describe a much more elaborate and detailed account than mine in which she was healed from terminal cancer overnight.  It was her delivery of this account to Wayne Dwyer’s PBS audience in May, 2012 that served as the final catalyst for me to talk about my direct experiences of God.  Wherever, however and whoever faces a healing energy so vast and unimaginable that their lives are inarguably altered must speak up. This brings to mind  one of my favorite childhood church songs; This Little Light of Mine. My favorite verses tell it all. 

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine
This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Hide it under a bushel, no! I'm gonna let it shine
Hide it under a bushel, no! I'm gonna let it shine
Hide it under a bushel, no! I'm gonna let it shine
Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

My direct experience of God is my light. I intend to let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.