Distance Energy Healing

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Faith Falls on Your Hand by Romolo Tavani via Pinterest

In another post, I was talking about a great healing energy session I had with Kate; about how happy we both were that pain had been released from her body, and how vibrant and healthy she felt after the session. I’m always thrilled when a session offers such tangible results.

What I didn’t mention was that Kate wasn’t with me during her healing session.

I completed her session in my studio here in upstate New York.   Kate, on the other hand, was at her home in Honolulu.

Yup.  The Honolulu that’s in Hawaii.

My hands weren’t resting on and above her physical body. But they were working directly with her energy.

I know. I can hear you asking, “What?! Come on!”

Well, not so long ago, there was a part of me that would have agreed with you whole heartedly. I had heard of distance healing, but I thought that it was either total hogwash (I love that word), or something for a select few of incredibly gifted and spiritually advance people.

Saints, perhaps. Or mystics.

I put my beliefs in the latter notion, but worried that there were plenty of imposters out there claiming the ability as well.

Until I traveled to Seattle last fall for a continuing education class on energy healing. Part of the curriculum was Distance Energy Healing. I remember when we arrived at that part of the course I was thinking, “I’ll try it, but this is not something I’ll be incorporating into my practice. I don’t have that kind of gift.”

I’ve been practicing massage therapy and energy healing for almost twenty-five years. That means I’ve put my hands on thousands of bodies, with the (successful) intention of  nourishing body, mind, and spirit and promoting good health.

I’ve studied various modalities of massage therapy and energy healing, and have developed many of my own techniques and methods in these arenas.

Over the years, I’ve learned to listen for and trust the guidance of my intuition while caring for my clients, my loved ones, and myself.

But the work has always involved having my client under my hands. That just seems a given, right?

So sitting in Seattle on that sunny Fall afternoon, I was skeptical that I would have any success with the distance healing session.  How can we facilitate health in healing in someone who isn’t even in the same room? But I had arranged with my daughter, on the other side of the country, to be my recipient. I asked her to just lie down at the arranged time.

“At least you’ll have a good rest,” I told her.

But when I used the technique to call in her energy I suddenly felt her presence beneath my hands.  I remember how the tears rolled down my cheeks during the session. How clear she felt.

I was incredulous.

When I asked her about it later, she said she had felt light and tingly. That she hadn’t slept but that she hadn’t been really awake either. That it had been relaxing, soothing,  and pleasant.

This was a revelatory experience for me. While this work was certainly for people of great  spiritual gifts, it was also for everybody else too. All we needed was a willingness to be open to it. All we needed was a willingness to heal and facilitate healing. This work was for me.

So when I returned home from the Seattle workshop with a new assortment of tools in my proverbial medicine bag, I was particularly excited to continue with the distance energy healing. I began practicing with fellow classmates in Hawaii and the west coast, then reached across the Atlantic to friends and family in the UK.

What I especially love about the distance healing is how clear and powerful it is. I guess that’s because I’m working with pure energy, unencumbered by the physical body of the human. I intuit more readily and clearly. And the energy moves and flows, and healing begins.

Clients will say, incredulous as I was in the beginning, “I could tell where your hands were!”  “Suddenly, my eyes fluttered open, as if I’d been in a deep sleep, thought I don’t think I was actually sleeping. More like dreaming. Then you texted me to tell me the session was over. But my body already knew.”  “That was amazing.”

My life’s work has been about having a positive impact on people’s lives:  helping people heal and grow emotionally, physically, and spiritually; nourishing body, mind, and spirit. I love seeing the look on a client’s face after a session- a smile and expression of health and peace.

And I love the fact that this distance energy healing enables me to help people not just in my own neighborhood, but anywhere in the world. It’s humbling and thrilling in equal shares.

A Little Energy Healing

 

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Photo compliment of Pinterest. 

 

Kate and I were talking a few hours after her Energy Session.

“I was drawn to your feet,” I told her, “it was unusual. I spent a lot of time holding them, and I just saw and felt this while light pulsing up through the soles of your feet and up through your body. It was beautiful and felt really powerful. I don’t know what it meant, but I’m glad I remembered to tell you about it.”

I heard her take in her breath and there were several seconds of silence.

I waited.

“That’s so cool!” she finally exclaimed. “I hurt my feet last week in tango class with my husband. They’ve been so sore ever since. I haven’t been able to dance and it even hurts to walk or just stand on them. I don’t know why I forgot to mention it to you before the session. But Mandy, since the session they haven’t hurt at all and I feel great!”

We were both pretty incredulous. Perhaps me more than her. I am constantly amazed that this work really can have that kind of concrete result; that kind of simple healing. And I just love it when it does.

Energy Healing is about moving stagnant energy within the body to facilitate health and healing-  emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual health and healing. As an Energy Worker, I’m holding my hands on or just above the body. I frequently sense the energy physically- heat or tingling in my hands, a fullness in my palms perhaps, a lightening or thickening of the density of the space around an area of my client’s body. Sometimes I see things in my mind’s eye- colors, images, people, creatures, sometimes even pieces of a story. Occasionally I’ll detect an odor or scent. Other times I’ll hear something, usually a directive of sorts, gently but firmly guiding me towards what to do next. I might also feel something within my own body, usually a sense of pain or discomfort which generally indicates what’s happening in my client’s body.

Sometimes the changes and shifts are subtle, quiet, a gentle sense of release, relief, relaxation. Other times more concrete, like the easing of pain in Kate’s feet. I love this work, and I love the impact it has on people’s lives.

In Solidarity

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Photo from NBC News

 

“We stand together in solidarity with our partners and children for the protection of our rights, our safety, our health, and our families – recognizing that our vibrant and diverse communities are the strength of our country.”

-Women’s March on Washington Mission & Vision

 

I was in NYC during the march. Our hotel just a couple blocks from Trump Towers. The bus  to the city on Friday simmered with energy and bright eyes. Strangers striking up conversation. We were moving in synch, with a common purpose.

Going to the March.

Except that I wasn’t going to be marching. I wanted to. I believe strongly in the mission of the March. I believe in the power of the voice of the masses, standing together, standing strong, uniting in peace.

I was going to New York with my daughter for college interviews. While I wouldn’t be present for the interviews, I needed to be near her. Available. She had to be my first priority.

While I longed to share my voice with the masses, while I longed to stand among my fellow women (and men, and children) and chant for our rights, our safety, our health, our families, I needed to be on the other side of the Park, separate from the crowd.

But I knew I could be a part of the March, from a distance.

So while my daughter was interviewing, I stole away from the college and found a dry bench in Central Park, among the Saturday runners and dog walkers. I sat with the sun on my face, my bag between my knees. I lowered my gaze, breathed deeply, and began to meditate. I sent my energy to the masses and to the cause.

My participation was quiet. I wasn’t bouncing off a multitude of emboldened bodies. I wasn’t raising my voice together with them. But I was participating.

In solidarity.

It’s Here! New Table Warmer

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“Your comfort is essential.”

That’s something I stress when you come in for your massage or energy work. The more comfortable you are, the better you’re able to receive the work. Whether it’s the pressure I’m applying, the style or volume of the music I have playing in the background, any outside noises or interference (like maybe your cell phone…), the temperature of the room, or a number of other possible influences that can enhance or hinder your comfort and, therefore, the quality of your healing session.

Temperature is key. I don’t want your body’s thermostat to have to work at all to warm you up or cool you down. Not even the slightest.

So in the summer, I run the fans or air conditioner. And I use light cotton or microfiber sheets.

In the cooler months… All right, I’ll just say it: In the deep freeze of upstate New York’s brutal and relentless  winters, it’s essential that I make sure you’re cozy and warm for your massage or energy work. So I pull out the flannel sheets, the down comforter, and, everyone’s favorite: the table warmer.

When you get under the covers, you always breathe a sigh of relief. Partly because it’s just so lovely and unusual to lie down in the middle of the day. And partly because that cozy, warm, heated table is just a slice of heaven. Welcoming and warm.

When you’re warm and comfortable, you’re more relaxed. When you’re relaxed, you’re ready to receive. When you’re ready to receive you’re ready to begin the healing and rejuvenating work that lies ahead.

So when I pulled out the table warmer a couple of weeks ago and plugged it in, I was dismayed that it wouldn’t turn on. And so, I might add, were a number of you. It had served me well, probably having clocked several thousand hours.

So I ordered a new one and it arrived last night in all its fleecy, cozy,  plushness. I set it up today, set its thermostat for a cozy 108 degrees, and listen to the “oohs” and “aahs” when you each lie down.

It’s here. Not just the cold Northeast winter. But, more importantly, the cozy, delightful, warmth of your next massage and healing session.

Pre-Dawn Meditation

 

 

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Scenario 1.

I’m lying in bed. My room is chilly but it’s warm under the covers. Cozy. It’s 4am. Two more hours before I need to get up.

But I can’t sleep.

I turn over and reach for my iPad. I’m going to read. I’ll read and fall back asleep.

But sleep doesn’t reclaim me, so I check my email. And the weather. A little FaceBook too. I peruse the NYTimes, click on a few other links, answer another email or two.

Then, before I know it, my alarm goes off. Two hours have passed. I haven’t been up and about, but I haven’t really been resting either.

I get up feeling tired and somewhat dull.

 

Scenario 2.

I’m lying in bed. My room is chilly but it’s warm under the covers. Cozy. It’s 4am. Two more hours before I need to get up.

But I can’t sleep.

I reach for my hooded sweatshirt and a pair of socks, and I crawl over to my zafu (my meditation pillow) in the corner of my bed room. I might strike a match to light a candle,  or I might simply sit in the darkness, legs  gently crossed in front of me, hands resting on my knees.

I close my eyes. I breathe deeply into my belly, and exhale every ounce of air, and then a little more.

On the next inhalation I softly lengthen my neck as my belly expands. As I exhale I sway my torso, my serpentine spine flexing and gently twisting, elongating and expanding as my breath pours out of my body.

As my spine elongates and expands, I gently rotate my shoulders. My jaw and brow soften. My breath flows deeply in, and smoothly out, out, out.

The house is quiet and dark. The glow of headlights swoop through my room as a car swooshes past.

I breathe deeply into my belly. I breathe out long and slowly, slowly, slowly.

In this dark pre-dawn hour, there are few thoughts bouncing around my head and a liquid quiet pours through my body like a dark and gentle river. I am lost and comforted, both surrounded and filled with that rich quiet.

My spine sways and lengthens again, cobra-like, with my next breath.

I am only my body and my breath. I feel only the air around me, entering my body, exiting my body, the zafu beneath me, the backs of my hands on my thighs.

I hear my orange cat pad over. He sniffs at me then curls into my lap. My mouth curves into a smile and I rest a hand on his silky, purring belly.

I don’t know how long I sit in that gentle nether space between night and dawn.

Eventually my legs and feet are tingling thickly. I slowly extend my knees and the cat leaves. I blow out the candle. I crawl back up into bed and under the covers and slide into a deep sleep.

My alarm sounds some time later and I wake, refreshed.

 

 

 

 

 

Body World

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There it was, standing before me, still and lifeless yet pulsing and glowing with the life energy that it once embodied. Brain, spinal cord, brachial branches spreading out across the shoulder girdle, reaching down the arms into hands. The nerves of the torso reaching and spreading across the chest, the back and abdomen.

And then Sciatic Nerve, branching off the spinal cord where it would have passed the sacrum. It was thick and strong and vital-looking, a twin on each side branching into rivulets and streams down both legs and into the feet where it touched and met with the ground.

“Hello,” I said, and the tears pulsed down my cheeks.

“Hello,” Sciatic Nerve pulsed back. Old, intimate friends meeting face to face for the first time.

We’d encountered each other many times a day for the past 20 years. Me prodding and coaxing. Sciatic Nerve sometimes yielding, allowing itself to be soothed and relieved. Sometimes not. Always there for me, waiting in its bed of muscle, blood, and bone beneath the skin’s surface.

You see, I’m a massage therapist. Working with the unseeable pains of the body is what I do. Sometimes the pain is emotional. Sometimes it’s physical. Either way, Sciatic Nerve is the source of much of it.

We have a regular conversation, Sciatic Nerve and I. Silently, in my head, and led by my hands, forearms, and fingers. We talk, cajole, and coax. An ongoing conversation. A friendship. Life-long companions.

My daughters, Marleigh and Delaney, and I had flown to Amsterdam for this experience. To experience the Body World’s Happiness Project exhibit. A six story museum in the heart of Amsterdam, my favorite city, exhibiting, well, real dead bodies. I know, it sounds weird. Crazy. Maybe gross. But these bodies, pristinely preserved and dissected into various organ systems and posed in motion and action are a work of genius and an absolute beauty to behold. To see the body from the inside out was, for me, magic.

An absolute joy.

When I see a person, I see the form of the their muscle and tissues through their clothing and through their skin. It’s not something I talk about because, not surprisingly, it tends to make people self-conscious. I also wonder at the function of their heart, their lungs, (and my own as well) as I see their chests and stomachs rise and fall with their breaths.

I am amazed each day by the wonders of our bodies: the growth of hair and nails, the blossoming of a bruise through its rainbow of colors, the healing and re-sealing of damaged skin, the coordinated movement of torso and limbs to stand, walk, run, dance; our ability to reach and grasp, to touch and feel the roughness of sandpaper, the coolness of water, the gentle warmth of a lover; I wonder at the formation of words on our tongues, our incomprehensible ability to create, comprehend and interpret language, conversation, the written word, art…

I am awed by our form and by what lies beneath our surfaces- the raw, pulsing dynamism that coordinates our existence, our movements, our thoughts, our emotions, our survival, our growth. Scientists can break this down into atoms and formulas.

But to me it’s magic and art. Beauty and wonder. Balance and harmony. When the balance is off there’s dysfunction, pain, illness, disease.

These are things I think about each day. These are the things I imagine, beneath the surface as my hands coax muscles and emotions into a healthier, relaxed place. These are the things I finally saw before my eyes in the Happiness Exhibit.

We were here as a family, celebrating our last summer together before Marleigh’s senior year of high school. It was Marleigh and Delaney’s first trip to Europe in the friendliest of towns- Amsterdam, with its shining canals, its curving cobbled streets and gingerbread architecture. Each day we wandered these lovely streets in search of an exotic lunch, the perfect pastry, Anne Frank, street musicians, a good tattoo shop, a great photo. Perpetually smiling, laughing, and loving each others’ company.

Our family of three. The pride and love I feel when I look at these two amazing young women (my daughters!) overwhelms me. And here we all were together, sharing this experience. They were as excited as I was.

I’d have loved to send a snapshot of us into the distant past. To myself when I first embarked on the trek into single-parenting. I was so scared, terrified even, alone in foreign terrain. Solely responsible for these two brilliant little girls. Could I do them justice? Could I care for them well? The snapshot would have assured me, “Yes, you can do this. Your family will flourish.”

I’ve been pulled to Amsterdam all my life, but it was this exhibit that really yanked us across the ocean and back to this wonderful town for our summer holiday.

So here I was, standing in front of the first exhibit of the Happiness Project in Amsterdam, weeping and conversing with Sciatic Nerve. I felt like Harry Potter chatting with the snake at the zoo then looking around and realizing no one else could hear the snake’s words. It was like that.

“Hello,” I said, “It’s so good to finally see you!”

“Hello,” Sciatic replied.

“Hello, hello, hello,” it echoed and pulsed.

I was filled with its vibrancy, its vitality and its life. I was awed and in love. I stood there weeping with joy simply to be in its visual presence.

I caught up with Marleigh and Delaney a little later.

“Girls,” I said, still wiping at my tears “this is going to take me a really long time. You can head back to the apartment whenever you want. I’m gong to be here a long time I think.”

“We know Mom!” they said. “We love it too. Take your time. We’ll wait for you.”

My two beauties.

They understood. They got it. I hoped for a minute that I was this patient and understanding with them when they were little. Worried that I hadn’t been. Then brushed that away and hugged them. Held them for a minute.

We took our time wandering through the six stories of the exhibit wondering at the beauty and glory and gore of our bodies, in sickness and in health. We each went at our own pace and met-up from time to time to smile, to marvel at something, to share a thought, to nod. We lingered at the gift shop, bought another book on anatomy, and took some pictures.

But before leaving the exhibit, we stole back up the stairs to revisit Sciatic Nerve and say goodbye. And then, of course, we each took our own two home with us.

I’d been back home for a couple of months and shared the story of meeting Sciatic Nerve with many friends. One friend pointed out that in a city of so many Old Masters I was gaga over an anatomy exhibit. And it’s true. Meeting Sciatic Nerve was, for me, greater even than experiencing Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.

Then one Friday night, sitting on my couch watching a documentary on the guru Yoganandya I realized a little more deeply what my experience had been about. Yoganandya said something about our brain and spinal cord being where and how God or the Divine enter our body. And I thought, “Yes. This I know.”

Looking at Sciatic Nerve and the nervous system in Amsterdam, looking at all the exhibits of the body in fact, was for me like looking at the face of God.

How strange it feels to write that. But how simple and true and real. To me the Divine lives in our flesh and bones and echoes in and out of us through our energy. I feel it strongly. Revel in it. Wonder at it. And on that joyful afternoon in Amsterdam, I saw it for the first time. Face to Face.

From the Home Front: Grumpy Pants

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When Delaney (my 14 year old) came downstairs this morning, she was grumbling and fuming.  Soccer pre-season began this week.  So after a summer of sleeping-in, she’s getting up before 7am.  Let’s just say she’s been a little tired in the mornings.  I don’t know about your family, but when the members of my little clan are tired we tend to be a tad grumpy.  Even cranky.  Bristly, perhaps.  Irritable.  Plain Old Angry.  I’ve learned to give my girls a little space when they’re feeling this way.  That’s a little piece of wisdom that didn’t come readily or easily to me.  Because I like to talk things out.  Get to the bottom of things.  Solve problems.  Trouble shoot.  That’s usually a pretty good thing.  But on these grumpy mornings my little interventions seem only to fuel the fires.  And sometimes we’d end up in an argument.  It took a while, but eventually I figured that out.  So while she ranted and fumed, I just made breakfast.  And kept my mouth shut.  Looking up from time to time and nodding to let her know I was listening.  But generally staying out of the way.

While she was sitting across from me sipping her smoothie she grinned and said, “Guess I’m wearing my grumpy pants  today and I’ve got ’em cinched up really tight.”

The storm had passed and the sun was peeking out.  I just love that kid.  Even when she’s wearing her grumpy pants.