Chapter 11: Letting Go

I began to work directly with a client's nervous system in the winter of 1990 when I was in Kauai, Hawaii. Through a wonderful series of events, I found myself in the temple that displayed a several hundred pound quartz Earth Keeper crystal. I had brought a special gift to the temple, which the monks had attached to this great crystal.

As the regular service began, the crystal gifted me through my Higher Self and said, "There is information for you, but first you must release your nervous system." That is all I heard. I remember thinking to myself: Jeez, I released everything else, what does it mean to release my nervous system? I didn't know what was going to happen to me, if I was going to shake, have spasms, or flop around.

In trust, I felt myself let go and the Earth Keeper crystal energetically pulsed out a series of vibrational waves directly into my third eye. It was like a bolt of lightening. The crystal and I were one, in the flow of all knowledge, suspended in the eye of God. I began trembling and could not hold my hands still. After ten minutes, my body stopped shaking.

Outside after the service, I met an old friend, Katrina Raphael, with whom I'd done healing work. She is a well known healer who has written three books on crystals. She asked me to come over to her house and work with her son. Then added, "I wish somebody could help me with my nervous system. It's fragile from the years of channeling the information for my books." I looked at her and said, "I just got some information and might be able to help you."

Thirty minutes after I'd received information from the crystal, I was going to use it. After I worked with her son and balanced the energy around him, I worked with my friend to balance her nervous system. I helped her release feelings, emotions, and thoughts that had built up inside, straining her nervous system. The result was beautiful. She felt quiet and balanced. I incorporated this technique into my healing process, and it became an important part of my work.

Animal Teachers and Spirit Friends

While expanding the techniques I used in my healing practice, I also began to work with horses at my aunt's boarding stable in the Oakland Hills. I still had my regular job, but my days began and ended with the horses. The mornings were often cold and damp from the ocean fog that rolled in during the night. I remember getting up at dawn and grumbling as I loaded hay for the horses' morning feed.

The horses turned out to be some of my greatest teachers. They taught me the disciplined attitude I needed to be a better healer. All the horses were enthusiastic about breakfast, neighing and stomping their feet in anticipation. They were enjoying the moment and did not care about my morning grumpiness. One little bay mare body-slammed me into the side of the stall, trying to shape up my attitude. Unfortunately I was a slow learner. It took me several cold mornings and a few bruises to understand that my unpleasant and distracted attitude disturbed the horses. I began to understand the powerful effect my thoughts had on the world around me. My involvement with the horses taught me the importance of staying in the moment with quiet mind.

During my time at the stables, I grew to love a remarkable horse named Cindy. She was thirty-three years old and the winter cold was hard on her. Sometimes when she laid down she had trouble getting up again. One particular day when I was preparing the afternoon feed, I noticed Cindy did not appear as usual to greet me. One of the stable hands told me that she had been lying down in her stall for several hours. I hurried to see her.

I will never forget how I felt as she fought to stand up and greet me. Her chest heaved with her efforts to stand, but her legs kept buckling. Her body was soaked with sweat and matted with straw, mud, and manure. Although she was weak, she hadn't given up. I believe she knew I'd come to help. We called the veterinarian and Cindy's owner.

I got down on my hands and knees in front of Cindy to soothe her. Every once in awhile, she would muster her strength to pull herself upright, but she didn't have enough strength and would come crashing back down. Soon I had bits of straw, mud, and muck stuck to me as well. I remember thinking, "Gosh, if everyone cherished life like this courageous horse, what a world this would be!" After repeated, futile efforts, she and I just laid there, waiting for the vet to come.

I stroked Cindy's forehead gently and told her that if she was going to die, I would stay with her and that my Indian friends were coming to help her with strength and love. As she relaxed, her breathing became very shallow and her gums started to pull up, exposing her teeth, a sign of approaching death.

Cindy's owner, Cathy, finally arrived and started crying when she saw Cindy's gums. Cathy asked me to leave, so she could be alone with her beloved companion.

The veterinarian arrived late in the afternoon as I went to sit on one of the horse trailers overlooking the riding arena below. He and Cathy spoke and she made the hard decision to euthanize Cindy; Cathy didn't want her friend to suffer any longer. The vet went back to his truck to prepare a lethal injection.

Suddenly something caught my eye. There were thirty Ghost-Spirit Native American Indians in ceremonial dress dancing in the riding arena. Shocked, I kept blinking my eyes to see if they would vanish. Instead of disappearing, I began to hear their singing and drumming and felt their spiritual presence even more strongly.

I was entranced by this mysterious spectacle when a shout from the barn turned my attention, and I glanced back up towards the barn. The rays of the setting sun highlighted Cathy and Cindy as they walked triumphantly out of the stall! Cindy's red chestnut coat glowed in the sunlight. I was caught between disbelief and exultation as I began to cry. Cindy was on her feet. It was a miracle!

Cindy made me realize the importance of desire and intention. There is nothing more powerful than using all of our energy to be fully present in the moment and focused on our desires. Cindy wanted to live. The vet had already gone into the stall, syringe in hand, to put her down, when she managed to get up. We were all amazed, because we had lost hope.

Cathy asked her friend, Terry Ryan, a woman who communicated telepathically with animals, to come over and talk with Cindy. I had not told anyone about my private conversation with Cindy when we were in the stall together, nor had I shared my vision of the spirit Indians who had gathered to ghost dance in the arena.

So I was amazed to hear Terry tell us how Cindy told her a story about some Native American Indians who had come to visit her. They told her that if she wanted to live, they would help. All she had to do was release her fear, come back into the moment, and focus again on getting up, and they would help. Cindy wanted to live. Cindy wanted to get up, and at that moment the Indians lifted her onto her feet.