Earthing ~ Transition

Earthing ~ A Journey 4

My Personal Journey to connect with Earth (continued)

 

I was scanning the Saturday Newspaper, when an advertisement hit my eye. A local Massage School was advertising its Fall classes starting in just two weeks. I knew that I wanted a job that helped other people, but it also had to be something that would also provide a viable income stream. This was a two-year accredited course that would provide me with a Registered Massage Therapist Qualification once I passed exams. I had thought about the healing arts during my ten-week hiatus, so the synchronicity of the ad shouted at me. The course was expensive for me, at $14,000 plus expenses, but my Dad had left me a little money… Just enough to cover the tuition fee, the text books and  supplies. But what would I do for an income for two years?

I told my partner about the school and said that it was something that I would like to do. He totally lost his temper at the mention of it, telling me it was a ludicrous idea and that we’d have nothing to live off. That decided me there and then. I am stubborn if not stupid. His lack of understanding about my work stresses really upset me, especially after all the years I had tolerated his financial whims. His pie in the sky attempts to figure out how the futures markets worked so he could make his fortune buying and selling coffee, pigs, or whatever it was, were all failures. Any money that he made was filtered through a Limited company and he never paid any income tax.  I never saw a dime. He didn’t like real work and I seemed to be doing everything. I was fed up, and disillusioned.

I called the registration number in the advert and left my details. I felt quite excited but also a bit nervous about the financial consequences. I had recently paid off our mortgage and my partner’s car loan, but we still had to eat, find money for fuel and pay for utilities.

Monday rolled around. I reported to my Boss’s office (she closed the door behind me). I played to her notions of power, grovelling as she’d expected, but explaining that I needed time to deal with emotional problems, full well knowing that University policy was to assist any employee experiencing health issues, either physical or mental. I caught her in her own trap really. As a long-serving employee with excellent yearly performance reviews, (at least until she took over after my former boss retired). I left her in an awkward position. I requested to go part-time and work flexible hours, basically a 3pm to 8pm shift for the most part so that I could sort out my problems.

She knew that she would have a hard time denying my request. I knew University employment policies as well as she did. She picked up the phone and called Human Resources requesting a meeting…

I won that round, and my part-time status became official, but I would later receive a terrible performance review completely based on her displeasure with me. She was slowly forcing me out.

My course began and would run from 8 am to 2 pm everyday with a lot of homework. It was going to be a gruelling schedule of school, work and late night study… My days would end at nearly midnight as I dedicated 2 to 3 hrs of reading my textbooks every night too! My head was filled with the kind of Anatomical information that first year medical students must learn, coupled with practical massage techniques. I found it almost impossible to write fast enough in the classes as I scribbled down course lectures.  I was the oldest attendee, but there were a couple of thirty-year olds too. The rest were fresh out of college.

Again, very quickly, despite all our different backgrounds, we bonded and the kids treated me really well. They really liked it when I showed them Reiki techniques and shared all my spiritual and grounding experiences. Despite the hard work, I loved going to class.

The teachers were all younger than me, but despite their initial misgivings about my ability to keep up the pace, they too, soon became my greatest cheerleaders.

Somehow, in the beginning, I kept up with it all, despite tiredness. But some things were not so easy. My Boss did make my life unbearable and she spread false rumours of my incompetence to other Managers. She even sent me on stupid missions to do menial tasks for my former employees. She wanted to rub my nose in it! Those employees had known me for a long time. They sympathised with me on my fall from grace and apologised for having to tell me what to do. Staff morale was at an all time low and no one wanted to raise their head above the parapet as my Boss’s wrath had descended on others too, including my old Night Manager, whom she finally lost patience with and ended his contract. Some people requested transfers to other departments on campus. Everyone had become just a little afraid of her. I tried to use the little influence that I had to make their lives better. I shared my healing modalities and grounding techniques with some of them too.

One day, I arrived at work to find our ‘tough cookie,’ receptionist in tears. I asked her what was wrong (already knowing that her six-month old grandson had been rushed into Toronto Sick Kids hospital). “He’s dying!” She sobbed. I went and put my arms around her, and she wept buckets. Fortunately my Boss was out for the day otherwise I doubt she would have found an outlet for her grief. As she calmed down and dried her tears with a tissue, she went on to explain that the hospital couldn’t stabilise him and they were going to do a Lumbar Puncture… Her voice trailed off as one of the men from the production area walked into the reception overhearing our conversation. “Wow those things are really painful,” he said unsympathetically. She started to cry again.

I took both of her hands in mine and looked her in the eyes as I said really slowly, “You can’t give up on him, he needs you and all your family to pray for him.” I am not religious, but I knew that this was the only thing she would understand. I continued, with conviction, “you all need to fight with him to beat this.” She managed a weak smile. She knew of my healing courses, so she wanted to believe me when I said that I would conduct a distance healing and would fight with her. I finished with, “He’s not going to die, we will all fight for him and see him as getting better.” She smiled and said “thank you.”

I walked out with the production guy following me, muttering loudly. “That was pretty irresponsible, telling her that her grandson won’t die,” he said, pulling up alongside me. “Especially when the doctors think he will.” I looked at him briefly and said, “he won’t!” And I walked away to my office.

I was focused as I quietly closed and locked my door. I had a drink of water, and sat, taking off my shoes. I grounded myself and went into quiet meditation for a couple of minutes. Then I lit a candle and began a distance healing focus. My mind travelled. I had never been to Toronto Sick Children’s hospital, but I visualised it anyway. I found myself in a brightly coloured ground floor corridor with a primary-coloured mural splashed on one wall. I followed it and came to a railing and a slight incline into a small semi private ward. I found the baby. He looked so frail with tubes and an oxygen mask on him. I sent him healing for an hour and grounded him in my minds-eye, but I also had a rather weird experience of a vision of Archangel Raphael. It was hovering over the cot.

I came out of the healing meditation slowly, feeling somewhat dazed. I drank a bottle of water and sat for a moment digesting what had just happened. I needed to go talk to the Receptionist before she left for the day. I didn’t care that I had just used up an hour of working.

I explained what had happened during my remote viewing experience. Her eyes brightened as she confirmed that her Grandson was on the ground floor of the hospital, in a room off a brightly painted wall in the corridor. I said “You and your daughter need to call on Archangel Raphael. He is the Angel of Healing. I just had to say it. I felt it mattered. She thanked me and went home to tell her daughter.

The next day, the Receptionist was waiting with a progress report.” He’s got Necrotizing fasciitis (flesh eating bacterial infection) they didn’t do the Lumbar Puncture!” She told me that he was in very serious condition but that now they have a chance if they can stop the ‘flesh eating’ with antibiotics. He had stabilised overnight. I smiled at her. “Keep praying, and be strong for him, he will fight.” She smiled back at me. She told me that her daughter had bought a poster of Archangel Raphael and taken it into the hospital to place on the wall above the cot. They were all pulling for him.

Two days on, she told me that he was recovering. He had lost half of one lung, but they had killed the bacteria and he was strengthening. I never saw a happier grandma than the one who was now hugging me. I told her that the power of love and prayer from all her family had done it and given him the energy and strength to fight. A few days later, she handed me a card from her daughter. It had on it a picture of the Archangel Raphael. Inside, heartfelt words thanked me for helping to save their baby. It wasn’t me, it was the energy, that everyone sent.

I saw the little boy again a couple of years later, for real this time, when I visited his Grandma at home. He came over and smiled at me, touching my knee before bouncing across the room to look after his one year-old baby sister. He had such a feisty spirit! I told his Grandma, “He’s going to be a great teacher one day! ”

(to be continued…)