I intended to try healing on my own before giving the surgeons a chance to cut me open, and I really wanted to get at the emotional issues that I knew were at the core of it all, and get the learning that this pelvic mass had to give me.
“Brandon, I just got an idea! You should come visit me for a couple of days; I’ve got this great bodyworker who helps people let go of the emotional issues stored inside while working on your body—it’s fabulous work. I go there myself about once a week. She’s magic! I really have got a lot out of her sessions.”
For a doctor, sometimes he sounded so dramatic, but something in what he said called to me, and besides, even if she wasn’t that brilliant, I could always go over to the local meditation center there, meditate, and attend some programs—plus I’d get a chance to hang out with Kabir and have some of our spiritual chats.
“I’ll see if I can get good flights. If not, then we’ll assume it’s not meant to be.”
As grace would have it, I got one of those super-duper special discount deals on two tickets to San Francisco only forty-eight hours later. It was only two and a half weeks before I had to reappear at the doctor’s office and here I was once again—TRUSTING, TRUSTING, TRUSTING!
I was delighted to find Kabir had already organized a couple of appointments for me. Being a doctor, he himself had next to no time to see me, which suited me fine as I had a feeling when I stepped off the plane that something important was going to happen in San Francisco.
I made an uncharacteristic decision not to go to Kabir’s home, but to book Don and me into a great little bed-and-breakfast inn just down the street from the therapist. Figuring I had only a few short days there, I thought I might like to rest between sessions and keep quiet and let myself heal. Plus, the bed-and-breakfast was virtually down the street from the meditation center, where I could go to meditate and sit in silence.
Some part of me instinctively knew that the time had come to face the music—to turn inward and keep to myself. I didn’t know how important that decision would turn out to be.
As I went up the steps to meet Surja, the massage therapist, something inside began to feel wobbly and a little scared. I wondered what that was all about, and dismissed it as I rang the bell.
A lady with a kind face answered. With very reassuring tones, she took me to her treatment room, which was warm and clean and somehow nurturing in a simple, homey way. I asked her what the teddy bears on the chair were for. “Oh, for kids when they come here. It makes them feel secure. Some adults like them too.” I smiled, and got the feeling that they were really there for the adults. It seemed a little quaint, but sweet, just the same.
She was burning some fragrant incense, and had pictures of a couple of spiritual masters she had studied with. Though massage was her speciality, I could see she had a great love of Spirit, and probably had the same thirst for learning that I do.
We got to chatting before we started, and I told her the whole story from beginning to end—that it was my firm belief that emotional memories are stored in the cells of the body and get passed on from one cell generation to the next, and that real healing begins when you let go of these cellular memories. I prayed, with all my heart, to finally face whatever was stored inside that tumor. I hoped she could help.
I admitted to her that, being in the mind-body field myself, I’d probably tried and done everything over the past twenty years. I felt I’d experienced every healing technique available, and figured I’d already handled all my emotional issues. So, when my belly kept growing and growing, it never occurred to me that there could actually be something seriously wrong. I had to admit that perhaps I’d grown arrogant—thinking it couldn’t happen to me.
I let her know something that I hadn’t shared with anyone else—how humbling it had been, and how ashamed I’d felt not only to find out how large the tumor had grown, but also to realize how long I’d stayed in denial. I just hadn’t wanted to believe that anything could be wrong with me, as I was supposedly doing everything right.
She stopped me to say, “You know, it sounds like you were doing everything right—it just seems to me like this must be some old stuff you need to get rid of.”
“But I feel like I’ve done every healing process on the planet!”
“Well, clearly your body doesn’t think so! The fact that your emotional stuff has manifested at the physical level must mean that you’re finally ready to face it and let it go.”
I knew she was right, and nodded in quiet agreement. It seemed apparent that we shared the same beliefs about health, and I felt very comfortable.
We continued swapping stories of various therapeutic practices, and laughed at some of the more ridiculous things we’d tried when we were younger. Then we began sharing our different spiritual realizations. About forty-five minutes slipped away before we both realized we were taking up precious therapy time.
Before we started I made a silent prayer that I would have the courage to face whatever was stored inside that tumor. I then opened and surrendered inwardly, and allowed myself to expand into the stillness that had been my constant companion throughout my journey. I knew instinctively it was definitely from the stillness that all the answers would come—not from my personality, and certainly not from my chattering mind. If my thinking mind was to have come up with the answers, it surely would have done so by now. As it hadn’t, my only route was trust: trust in a deeper wisdom, the wisdom responsible for making my heart beat, my eyes shine, my hair grow; trust in the infinite intelligence responsible for making my cells replicate; trust in the part of me that is awake when I’m asleep at night. I knew I would have to trust and surrender into my very essence—into the real me—into what felt like “home” to me.
As she began massaging me, I closed my eyes and felt myself relaxing ever more deeply into peace, and once again I had the experience of time standing still—my senses fully alive, and yet my mind completely at rest, with a presence of peace that seemed vast, without boundaries. I felt myself connected with everything.
While massaging, Surja suggested, “Why don’t you, in your mind’s eye, take some steps right down into your tumor and see what it looks like down there?” Her suggestion seemed so obvious, but somehow it felt right. So I decided to do just that.
When I got inside my uterus I didn’t like what I saw. It was pretty scary-looking, and more than once I thought, “I’m getting out of here. I don’t want to see all this.” But my inner wisdom kept reminding me that I was here for a reason, and so once again I prayed for the courage to face whatever it was I needed to face. I was certain I was going to find something I just couldn’t bear to see.
As I was “walking about” inside the tumor, I came to an area that seemed particularly dark. As I approached the area, I could sense an intense feeling of fear emanating from the walls. Spontaneously, an old memory of an intense childhood trauma flashed before me. Instantly, my doubting, thinking mind checked in and said, “It can’t be that—I know all about that memory—I’ve long since dealt with that issue and put it to bed! It wasn’t that big a deal—it can’t be the cause of what’s going on in here . . . blah . . . blah . . . blah . . .”
As Surja continued to massage, I shyly relayed the judgments my thinking mind was making. She said reassuringly, “Well, your body wisdom is probably coming up with that particular memory for a reason. For now, why don’t you just go with what’s coming up for you? Even if your thinking mind is doubting it, what have you got to lose?”
