The Day I Realized I Was a Healer

I’m categorizing this under both “Health” and “Joy.”

Previously, “before I knew,” I would have categorized this, on this Pass the Sour Cream site, under Health because that’s what I thought it was or at least what it was supposed to be.

Yet, now that I have done it, now that I have become it, I realize it’s not *only* health but Joy. Health is a part of it and probably a small, possibly even insignificant part of it.

Which, of course, is the true and most delightful discovery.

For when I was “expecting” health (and health improvements through healing), it was not yet at the level of joy and this it “didn’t yet work.”

I was expecting, oh, I don’t know, magical miracles of health improvements and the like. Whereas what it truly is made of is joy and delight and sharing and, gee, I realize as I type these words how “woo woo” that sounds so what if I termed it otherwise.

It’s not as “direct” as a physical healing but yet more a difference of layers or highs and lows or where the healed body is on a lower level (of vibrational energy) and the healer is on a higher frequency, able to pull up, increase, elevate the levels of the not-yet-healed body to the point where it is indeed physically healed.

I wasn’t going to start with all of this but now that I do, I realize it’s the perfect preface for where I’m going. So here goes.

I won’t drag it out with all of its gory detail but suffice it to say that my wife had a 48-hour headache. She said it wasn’t a migraine (although I’m not sure I know–nor does she–what the difference is) but she said it wasn’t.

On the morning of the third day, I was up even earlier than normal, maybe even something like 4:30. I was coming off of a 5-day fast and still wasn’t eating much so I was sleeping extremely efficiently and was up way before the crack of the winter dawn.

It must have been around 4:30 when I noticed she too was awake–or at least not fully asleep.

“Is your headache gone?” I asked.

“No,” she whispered, frustrated.

I let her roll over and try to fall back asleep. It was so early, I debated trying to fall back asleep but it wasn’t going to happen. My body had had enough rest and I was ready to go.

Now here’s the part that’s a bit difficult and rather personal and private (which is why it’s difficult) to get out there.

You see, my wife of 20 years, doesn’t really “believe” in what I do. My workshops, my meditation, my groups on Monday evenings. It’s all a “cute hobby” (my words, not hers) and I’ve learned to live with it. We co-exist with the understanding I do this stuff and she’s OK with it. Just like she enjoys purses and I don’t care about purses.

I was about to get out of bed to go downstairs to do my morning meditation but I hesitated. My wife was suffering. She was on her way to her third day in a row of a mind-pounding headache.

It was worth a shot. What’s the worst that could happen?

I stayed in bed. I put my hand on her back and I fell off the cliff into a meditative state.

At first, I floated around in her body and didn’t see much. I usually look around and see if there’s anything that stands out or otherwise calls my attention. Nope, not much.

I figured I’d go up into her head as that was where the trouble seemed to be. As I went up through her neck, I realized I couldn’t get there. I couldn’t get through.

It was as if her entire head was engulfed in smoke. Have you ever seen, maybe in the science lab at school or even in a movie when there is smoke in a glass bulb or trapped in a ball and you can see it swirling around? It looks really intriguing and all but I figured it couldn’t be good and maybe it was the cause of the headache.

But I couldn’t get up in there. I did see that her eyes and her ears were shuttered not unlike a winter lodge battened down for the winter.

I heard the phrases, “I don’t want to hear it.” and “I don’t want to see it.”

Yeah, well, who knows what I could make of that. Probably she didn’t want to hear any more about the challenges of raising two teenage boys.

As I tried to get up in there and couldn’t, I tried to see if there was anything else I could see or do or help.

Her mouth was not blocked. The message I heard had something to do with singing. I hoped it was not that I needed to sing to her because that would be wrong on so many levels and there was a short-term guarantee that it would make her headache worse. Not ideal.

I took it to mean that she needed to sing. I also heard (or understood) something with 20, possibly 20 minutes.

While I was still in there, I created an exhaust vent or pipe that went from her neck, as far as I could go, that, hopefully, would let some of the smoke from her head escape. I did what I could and who knew if it would help.

Dear reader, if you are still reading this, then I’m just going to go with it that you are going with this. I don’t know what I see, why I see it or hear it or feel it but I let it happen and don’t ask too many “meta” questions. In other words, I might ask “How can I help you?” about her headache but I’m not going to ask what is this message or where is it coming from.

Things were wrapping up and I checked the exhaust vent and her neck (I still couldn’t get up in there) and I made my way out of there and my meditation was ending.

I stayed with her a while and she seemed to be sleeping soundly.

This might sound crazy but I still had time to do my “own” mediation so I went downstairs and did another half an hour. I focused on my son and his … math test. 😉 Hey, you do what you gotta do.

The boys had exams and needed to be off for school so I let her sleep and got the boys out of the house.

Finally, the house cleared out, I went back upstairs and slid into bed.

“How’s your headache?” I asked.

She looked at me and looked up and looked at me again and started in with her story.

“You know, it was the weirdest thing,” she started. “Earlier this morning, I think you were awake, too, I woke up and I felt it again and I thought, ‘Oh no, I have it again.’ so I went back to sleep. But then when I woke up again, just now, it was all gone. Just all gone.”

I told her how happy I was for her and relieved and how great that was.

This was the point, however, where I had a choice to make. I could leave things be and let her just think whatever happened happened.

Or I could “come out of the closet” and tell her what I think may have happened.

It’s 2020. I have exciting plans this year–even this decade. I want to be bolder, truer, and dare to come out of my comfort zone. In fact, shatter the ceiling of my previous comfort zone.

I decided right there and then to tell her what happened.

In as much detail as I could muster, I told her what happened. She listened intently.

Here’s the thing about this sort of experience. She was so relieved that her physical headache was gone and it was so obvious that it was there in the earlier morning and it was gone now that “something” happened.

Sure, we could say it was a coincidence. We could say that I did what I did and it was a wonderful coincidence of timing that her headache disappeared just at that same time.

I can’t prove things either way. Neither can she. Neither can anyone.

What could it hurt to “believe” in what happened? What if something I did helped her headache go away? What if? What could be the wrong, the bad, the hurt, the downside of believing something like that?

I told her about the singing and the 20 which might have been 20 minutes. Even though her headache was gone, it seemed like the right thing to do so I turned down the light, turned on some soft music, and left her alone to sing quietly but out loud for the next 20 minutes.

She did it.

She came downstairs in a little bit, dare I say a skip in her step, and she told me things she had never told me. She asked me about my meditation and wanted more detail about what I saw in her neck (which she then told me had been stiff and maybe she needed a new pillow) and about what I heard and how did this all work and was this what I did on Monday nights once a month?

She called me a magician.

I was OK with that.

It opened a door. A door was opened.