Somewhere along the way, there develops within the soul a yearning that can no longer be ignored; a craving for the great Love affair. We feel it drawing ever closer. It is the greatest of them all. It cannot fail. It is all-consuming. It is incomparable. It is the love affair with our own true nature and the source from which it comes. The desire is in all of us but, more often than not, it is ignored for other interests. We wrestle with each interest, trying to make it work, growing with each adventure until the light has grown bright enough for us to reach for it.
Charismatics and Pentecostals generally place their hands on the person’s shoulders. If we add to that the Eastern knowledge of chakras, it becomes a small step for the healer to place the hands directly on the body’s various energy centres, as in Reiki. It goes without saying that the healer must have the capacity to heal or, more precisely, the capacity to let the healing channel flow through them. Otherwise, to the client, it can feel like an invasion of personal boundaries or like nothing.
Before being a full-time author, I had a private practice as a spiritual healer and counsellor, for about ten years, in which I practised, among other things, hands-on healing. Healing is partly a selfish career, as the path must always be. I wanted to learn how to be completely healthy and happy myself. Of course, I also wanted to share what I hopefully found with a world which seemed deeply in need of it. Healer and author, John Hargreaves, who was a spiritual teacher of mine, at that stage, was particularly supportive of me starting a practice as a healer. He said,
Writing is a long-term career. It takes a lot of time, money, perseverance, learning, and soul. Making a mark as a writer and having an influence in the world is a process which generally accelerates slowly.
Trust your instincts.
Go with the flow.
Do your best.
If you know that the spiritual voice is in you, and you would like greater access to it as a writer, then Writing: A Spiritual Voice can help you to develop your capacity to hear and heed that voice.
Amira took every opportunity that crisp, glorious day to be outside. She walked down to the beach and returned via the shops and up the hill taking the longer route past Verloren’s holiday house. There was a For Sale sign in the front garden. She stopped to look at it and wondered why Verloren would be selling.
In the five years since Farkas sold this house to Verloren, thought Amira, he has lived at Charlie’s property in the back hills and in Ide’s bungalow, bought a house, started a relationship, had a baby, ended a relationship, and, hopefully, is now resurrecting that same relationship.
Amira hadn’t had the nightmare since she was twenty which was six years ago. Back then, she was known as Maria. It hadn’t even crossed her mind in the two years she had been living in Eraldus, in the city. Now that she was travelling each weekend back to Waldmeer, the nightmare was occasionally returning. It was strange because nothing could be more charming than Waldmeer; going to sleep and hearing the distant sea, waking to the forest birds, walking to the rhythm of the breaking waves. Some years ago, she had come face to face with the nightmare malevolence when she went to see her teacher, Erdo, in the forest. That occasion marked the first time Amira spoke to Maria. It was the beginning of many years of instruction from Amira to Maria. These days, Maria was back in the Homeland and Amira had sole charge of the body they had both inhabited. Some years were lost in the transition and Amira was now in her late thirties. Like all the secret ones who claim their spiritual inheritance, she seemed somewhat ageless.
Lenny was a fisherman from Waldmeer. Several generations of his family had lived in the little coastal village. One of his past relatives was a logger in the forest like many men, at that time. He had emigrated from Germany. The logging settlement was the spectacular meeting point of forest and stunning coastline. It was he who first referred to the early town as Waldmeer. It means forest-sea in German. The name stuck and the locals called it that ever since.