We Are All Healers

I remember one day around 20 years ago, a woman came in to my clinic complaining of abdominal pain. She was a new patient in her mid to late 50s, had long blond wavy hair with streaks of grey, and dressed in a way that shouted, “I am a Bohemian, and I march to the beat of my own drum, thank you very much.” Her eccentricity piqued me interest. Anyway, as I examined her, she let in a short gasp and said, “You’re a healer.” Okay. Hmm. Duh. These were my profound thoughts in that one millisecond. She went on to explain that she felt the healing energy radiating from my hands. Although I felt a natural affinity for her, I was a young doctor with a conservative and skeptical mindset, so I dismissed her as one of those odd woo woo people who play with Tarot cards and crystals in their basement. For all I knew, she burned snake oil and birch branches, drank bat blood and practiced voodoo. I figured it was best to stay on her good side.

Fast forward to today. Yeah, yeah, I know I wasn’t supposed to post anything until tomorrow, but when Erik insists, I bow at his command. I was walking through Memorial Park forest, practicing my channeling and toning my cellulite. The trails are sometimes pretty wicked. Lot’s of roots, logs, steep hills, deep ravines. Sadly, I was no match for them today. Truth be told, I’m probably the most clumsy person in the world. I’m never very grounded. My mind is anywhere but the present, and so I tend to be completely unaware of my surroundings.

Midway through my hike, simple mathematics came into play: Elisa + root = face plant. There I was with big purple bruises on both wrists and palms, my knees swelling to the size of softballs, dripping a trail of blood. (Of course this might come in handy, because I’m also a lousy navigator. Thankfully Iola’s Andy comes along to guide me if I get cocky and go on unmarked trails.) Anyway, the pain was so bad that I was a bit worried about whether I’d be able to hobble back to my car.

Then, I hear Erik. Well, I hear him for the second time during the hike. The first was him laughing his ass off. And Erik told me, “You can heal yourself, Mom. You know how.” Yeah, yeah, I know. Physician heal thyself. Blah, blah, blah. After more of his pestering, I decide to give it a try. I visualized light surrounding and penetrating all four injured joints, seeping into every space, every tissue layer, every cell, every atom. I experimented with different colors, mostly white, but also greens and blues and golds. I kid you not, the pain and swelling all but disappeared within less than a minute. Even the bleeding stopped more quickly than I would have expected from the normal clotting process.

Erik laughs at my disbelief and tells me to share with all of you: Everyone can heal. You can heal yourself, your animal companions, your friends and family. As a collective, we can heal Mother Earth, communities, nations and humanity as a whole. All you have to do is have faith, focus your intent and visualize. Give it a try and report back to Erik.

Healing Hands

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Elisa Medhus


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