Immediately I was miffed. I thought, Bloody charlatans! Here they go trying to rip us off with their bloody New Age workshops!What an incredible waste of all of our time.This is Jack’s third birthday and his mother is in here, listening to this rubbish!
My family was just outside, including Jack, three years old just that day and my eldest daughter Colby, just nine months. I could hear my husband happily chatting to someone, so I turned to the lady next to me to see if she needed assistance to leave. She was devastated. She had been hoping this man would work on her. As we talked and I consoled, the beautiful woman with whom Andrew had been speaking walked over and interrupted, introducing herself as Savannah. “Can you hang around for a while, sweetie? He wants to talk to you.” Savannah indicated the gentleman who had just been presenting. I was suspicious.
“Why?” I could see this man watching us through the crowd.
Andrew leaned in, smiling, and said, “We can hang around, can’t we?”
I couldn’t believe it! “Why?”
A voice said, “You have a gift for this.” I looked up into the eyes of a man who would turn out to be a key friend on this road of discovery. And so we hung around.
I didn’t really know why I was there, but I knew I had to be there. I assumed at the time that it must have been for Jack, and you couldn’t find a stronger purpose for me to stay. You see, the previous three years since Jack’s arrival had been laden with many a battle on my son’s behalf.
Jack has a severe level of spastic quadriplegia cerebral palsy. He acquired it from the trauma to his brain due to bacterial meningitis. His is not what you’d call “textbook” cerebral palsy, (although what the hell that is I don’t know). Jack’s a handsome boy with clear speech, and all of his spastic tone is reactive tone. This means that you don’t really see the CP until he first tries to move, then his body rejects the idea and fights him, and Jack fights back. Man, does he fight back! He fights to do anything; to breathe, to eat, to speak, let alone sitting, walking, etc. I tell you, he is one extraordinary person.
He’s also intellectually all-happening. He started reading when he was two years old (we’re yet to figure out where he learned this) and has a phenomenal memory, particularly for music. From as early as fifteen months old, he would hear a piece of music once—Mozart, Ben Harper, Jimi Hendrix—and could sing it back note for note. In sheer contradiction to all that ticks within, the last few years have seen my son develop an incredible battle with communication. He has great speech, but to get it all in the right order is a challenge. Originally he would tell me there was “too much noise” in his head. Other traits began to show more prominently, and sure enough, my boy falls under the umbrella of Austism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). Again, not textbook. He’s very social, has a great sense of humour and is very connected, communicative and affectionate. He’s quite the adventure, my beautiful son.
We’ve watched in the gifted role of parent, calling this child our son, as he reaches out to everyone he meets and changes them. What I’m talking about here is not about disability. It is a lot of fun watching various reactions to a child in a hot-looking fluorescent yellow wheelchair, and in his disability there are lessons for everyone. But that’s the least of Jack’s work. Jack has a presence and ability to affect people as I’ve never seen. People change because they meet Jack. He is all love, and more and more I recognize just how indulgent and patient he is with me, as my teacher.
I’ll try to explain a complex situation to him, and he’ll look at me quietly and say, “I know, Mum.” Not condescendingly or cheekily, just patiently waiting for me to recognise. Those who can see auras tell me his is huge and white, pink and gold. Those who can see spirits, see an enormous crowd with him. But if you haven’t recognized your gift yet, rest assured you would still see Jack as he is, for he is beautiful.
My friend, who “doesn’t do private sessions”, asked us if he could work on Jack. Of course we said yes; what parent wouldn’t? And my initiation began.
During the session, as my friend worked on him, Jack was singing a favourite song. He suddenly stopped singing and pulled the man toward him, reached up and kissed him on the forehead (right on the third eye) and said, “No thank you, I’m alright.” And sure enough, there was no physical change in Jack.
Apparently this “miracle healer” was almost as disappointed as I was. Two days later, the phone rang with a request to work on Jack again. In a calculating move, he had asked Savannah to call me. The bond between Savannah and I had been instant, familiar and warm. From that moment she had introduced herself, I’d felt like saying, “Where have you been? I’ve missed you!” rather than the usual rudimentary salutation. Larger than life, gifted in spirit, Savannah embodied both gift and guide throughout this crucial turning point.
So when she called again, we went. They filmed this session for a television show. Jack had trouble staying still during the session and was chatting, “The birdies are everywhere, Mum! Look at the birdies!”, so the two of us started singing a song about lying straight and still. I recall hearing a lot of sniffing and when I looked around, everyone had tears running down their faces, including the cameraman and the sound guy. I turned back to my son in time to see him grab the gentleman’s hand as he was working, hold it and say, “It’s alright, you know. I’m okay.” And again there was no change.
Jack was the first to show me, before I’d even begun this work, that people can and would refuse healing. This was a brutal, heartfelt lesson for me, as it had to be in order to recognize the magnitude of the role I was here to fulfil: It is not for me to interfere with any individual’s journey if it isn’t appropriate.
With Jack it was a decision he was aware of, whereas most people are consciously unaware of the road before them. My own journey continued to unfold…
I spent the next ten or so days with this team, embracing an introduction to this gift of healing, as they generously imparted as much as they understood of it. I didn’t learn a lot about the frequencies from them, but I was most certainly introduced to the concept that these quantum-based frequencies were readily available, for all of us. I learnt how to utilize the ever-present buzzing in my hands, how to start working over a body, what to feel, where to look, how to work with it a little.
The day after I met them, my neighbour Lynn came over. She had laryngitis and had completely lost her voice. Andrew told her some version of what had happened and what I was doing and, courageously, she lay on our dining room table while I worked on her for about five minutes. I really had no idea what I was doing, but I could feel the rush of “energy” move through me instantly. I moved my hands slowly about her throat and head, feeling inexplicable pockets of “pull” in and kind of around my hands. I would stop and stay at a place where there was a pressure sensation in my hands. Then when I no longer felt that “pull”, I would move to another area until I felt that sensation again.
From my side of it, it felt like never-ending silk scarves were being quickly pulled through the palms of my hands, up though my arms, shoulders and neck, and out through the top my head. Two more “scarves” were constantly moving through the soles of my feet, up my back and again out through the top of my head. Even then, I knew this wasn’t of me. I was not the healer here. And strangely for me at the time, given that this should have been “foreign” to me, I was not afraid of these frequencies.
I looked at Lynn and what was happening to her. Her eyelids were flickering madly and her breathing was shuddering and short. Beneath her closed eyelids, her eyes were slowly oscillating from side to side. Her head moved rapidly from side to side, intermittently.
With a bemused smile on his face, Andrew watched intently. You got the feeling he knew something he wasn’t telling me and truly enjoyed watching it unfold. (What had they been discussing while I was resisting all of this?) To his credit, not once did the man I married ever doubt what I was doing. He never questioned it or denied me access to the avenues I had to go down. In hindsight, there was a knowing, long before I recognised it, that this was what I had to do. What I was here to do. The belief and support of those closest