A Reluctant Healer

In this article, I use the pronoun "we" to encompass a group of people involved in soul work. Photo by author.

By now, Alice understood how to heal herself, and she recognized that anything not healed remained unknown or unready. Deep in the darkest regions of her body, she knew that something else was waiting to be birthed into existence. It called to her through foreboding thoughts of being exposed and shamed as a healer. She suspected that foreboding would reveal her own judgement. Who was she to call herself a healer?

Do I just have a case of imposter syndrome? Lots of healers feel that way at first. As if to answer the question running through my mind (from Happy Birthday to You! by Dr. Seuss) was a celebrated quote: 

Today you are you! That is truer than true! There is no one alive who is you-er than you!

Thanks, Dr. Seuss, but I feel what others think about me, too. I feel their disapproval warranted or otherwise. Their judgements about the kind of healing I'm drawn to had me scrambling for cover.

 Strange, because we all know a higher power does the healing, and we are but conduits for that power. True healers would be solidly supportive of other healers who do great work that leads to breakthroughs, regardless of their modality, wouldn't they?

The trouble was, I couldn't decide on which modality I wanted to work with. Growing up, I knew amazing healers who called upon the power of God to heal and joined the Order of St. Luke. I spent years studying Reiki, Theta Healing, EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique or tapping), and lately, Shamanism. It seems I'm being guided in a direction that uses all that I learned from those modalities, yet I was still a reluctant healer.

At six years old, I sensed my first “spirit”. I glared at my aunt, “No, I'm not sleeping in this room!” It wasn't friendly, and I bolted from its presence in the old house by the ocean.

When I was in my mid-twenties, an evil spirit physically attacked me. I could not move; time itself stood still. Then I met souls who seemed to be looking for help in my dreams. About five years ago, I heard a soul who wanted to quit wandering around on earth and helped her. Now, souls tell me their sad tales of wandering aimlessly in an in-between world, hoping I will help them get where they want to go. Some of them I can help.

Others tend to distrust this type of healing work, and I don't blame them. There is nothing to see, no physical mending of body parts, no medical tests to be run that confirm healing has taken place. This is healing work made visible only by words and descriptions of souls disappearing into the light of their new destination. How do others know what I see and hear souls say is real? They don't.

Maybe that's my reluctance. I want to prove to others that soul healing is legitimate work. In soul work, as I call it, there is no earthly client, no offices, and no earthly payment for services either. There is, however, joy and wonder at the many souls who cross over, sometimes decades after their physical death. There are also the memoirs I'm writing about my mystical transformation and journey that mention these distressed souls who show up suffering great pain and loss.

One of the first times I saw these souls as an older adult was fascinating. Many years ago, a tragic accident claimed the lives of all on board a plane travelling from a small town to the city. The pilot, thinking they were seeing the lights of the big city, descended and crashed into the side of a mountain. Death would have been swift.

Years later, we were champing at the bit to get to the mountain. The souls were ready and anxious, and we could feel them. When we got to the base of the mountain, we were told that there was a trail leading straight up to the site, but it was very steep. We chose a lower and flatter path that led to a small lake.

It felt like once we settled on this path, the souls made a beeline for us. They were like sentinels spaced out evenly on either side of the path. We knew they were there and felt their grief. My upper chest registered severe pain every time we passed a soul who had died in the crash. Their trauma must have been horrendous that night. I hoped healing could relieve even a fraction of their grief before they entered the portal.

We found twenty-three spots where the sentinels were standing. In the middle of those twenty-three spots, there was a larger, special place where ley lines crossed right in the middle. This is where we set up the portal. Once the portal opened and the ceremony concluded, they were gone. It felt peaceful, even serene. Elated, we returned to the parking lot to begin our trip home. It was an honour to be a part of this ceremony of peace for these souls.

Since then, many trips to set up soul portals at rivers, mountains, waterfalls, and estuaries have been interesting and rewarding. In every case, I was witness to souls crossing easily and to those hanging back who needed help. Apparently, if souls don't cross over within a certain period after their death, they remain in that in-between place doing whatever they do. In most instances, they wanted me to show them how to “go home”. A few of them told me they couldn't go home, and why. I asked them many questions to understand intuitively what healing they required to ascend into the light of home.

This was demanding work. After establishing one particular portal, it was obvious some souls were in trouble. Long story short, I spent a week working with them after I got home. Every morning early, I awoke with work to do. It ended in success for the souls, but not for me. It felt as though unwanted energies had crept into my body.

Within two weeks of returning from that trip, I became ill, and doctors diagnosed me with a severe autoimmune condition three months later. Two months after that, I broke my wrist. By the end of March, my body's sugar level blew up, and I started insulin treatment.

Then comes the affliction to waken the dreamer. Søren Kierkegaard

I don't know for sure that the unwanted energy caused my afflictions, although I'm not ruling that explanation out. Perhaps my body knew I needed awakening to new healing possibilities, and I am in the middle of a transformation from reluctant healer to willing and joyful healer. Regardless, the dreamer is awakening now! Soul work has chosen me, and it encompasses many of the gifts I know I already have. As I do this soul work, those feelings of inadequacy and being an imposter diminish.

My path isn't that of a mainstream healer with fixed appointments and an office space, and I have no judgement for all those amazing healers who thrive in that environment. The office I prefer offers hours spent in forests, near rivers, on beaches, breathing in tree scents, ocean salts, and waterfall mists. In this office, the earthy scent of weathered trees enriches my body and my soul. And thanks to the many souls who make themselves known to me, I can no longer call myself a reluctant healer.