Full Circle

This is Part IV of my Healing Journey, from a tragic accident to helping others deal with their own trauma. Read Part I – The River. Part II – The Movie. and Part III – My Recovery.

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I continued seeing Chantel for a full year, getting better and exploring many new aspects of myself that frankly, I didn’t know existed and wouldn’t have thought possible in my wildest dreams. I finally got curious enough to find out how this stuff worked and signed up for my first BodyTalk course. I was firm in my mind that I was only doing this so I could help myself and my family on an as needed basis. I was definitely no healer.

On my first day of training I was paired with a senior practitioner, and she helped me struggle through the chart to create my first ‘formula’. As I was tapping her out, I could feel the energy of the formula leave my body and enter hers. I could sense when the shift occurred. Not knowing any better, I assumed this was normal, simply how it was done. My partner set me straight. No, most people do not feel the energy flow, and if they can, it’s after years of practice. Oh.

In the following weeks I was lucky enough to practice on several guinea pigs, err, I mean friends and family. Some of these sessions were pretty intense. Some profound. One was downright scary, but it was in preparation for what was to come. It dawned on me that I was good at this. I was excited and desperate to discover where this was heading, because it seemed so much bigger than just me. It seemed like chess pieces were being moved into place.

I managed to get an appointment with the seventh-generation psychic Margaret Davenport-Freed, who is booked almost two years in advance. I’m not sure if stalking is too light of a word.  Anyhoo, I was desperate and she had answers. Among many other amazing things, Margaret told me that I’d know if I was a healer by March. Armed with a deadline, I could let it be.

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I love to back-country ski, and organize a big trip every spring. It was my dream to go to the Stanley Mitchell Hut, a place my father-in-law told stories about the good old days of early ski

touring and guiding in the Rockies. I needed 16 people, and managed to gather an eclectic group from Canada, the US and a last minute addition of a former French Foreign Legion soldier now

The Stanley Mitchell Hut. Photo: Steve Bennett

living on a tiny island near Australia, whom I had never met.

I skied in with a small group. As we were the first to arrive at the hut, I was able to greet everyone else as they came along. I went out to introduce myself to Mateusz*, the French Foreign Legion soldier, and his friend Owen*. Mateusz is Polish, and his heavy accent mixes together all the languages he knows. I mispronounce his name. Twice. Immediately his friendly demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed and drilled into me as he squared his body. In those minute movements, I felt real fear. I stopped moving, apologized for messing up his name, and practically ran back into the hut.

I stayed clear of Mateusz for the next two days, which wasn’t hard. He sat with his back to the wall, next to the door, brooding. His dark mood casting an uneasy shadow that everyone could feel. He rarely spoke, which left me wondering how much English he knew. Sometimes he would sit for hours, immobile, staring with glassy eyes as his hand slightly twitched. He didn’t ski or leave the hut except to chop wood for hours, or carry in the heavy buckets of water.

On the fourth day I went skiing with Mateusz’s friend Owen. I asked what was wrong with Mateusz. Owen told me about Mateusz being a paratrooper in the French Foreign Legion, how hard that was, and thought it was post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD. Mateusz wasn’t sleeping, was extremely depressed, and his friend didn’t know what to do with him.

Meadow outside the Stanley Mitchell Hut. Photo: Steve Bennett

Back at the hut after skiing, I was drawn to the meadow in front of the hut. The energy was calling me and I knew I needed to soak up the power of the mountains, but I didn’t know why. I stood outside in my warm down jacket for over an hour, my face upturned to the weak March sun. Not moving. Waiting. One of my healing guides finally came to me, and told me to get ready. I would be tested. As I had already been tested several times, all of them taxing, I was nervous. Whatever was going to come would, so I turned towards the hut and went inside.

I was alone in the hut’s kitchen when Mateusz silently came in, gathered some items, and left, pulling the door shut after him. He came in and left a second time. Each time I tensed, and watched him with my periphery vision.

I went outside through the kitchen door, when I heard Mateusz come outside too. As the tension was too much for me, I turned to look at him and forced myself to lamely ask, “Are you ok?” He said he was, so I went back inside, let out my breath, and went upstairs to meditate.

I needed to work on some people, and was bringing in their energy when Mateusz’s energy just showed up. I was not pleased, so ignored his energy while I did my other healing work.

When I do my healing work, I’m able to see, hear and interact with that person’s energy as if it was the physical form. As this is how I experience it, this is how I will describe it. In no way does this reflect the actual actions of the person or their conscious thoughts, as I am working with their subconscious mind.

When I finished my work, there was Mateusz’s energy again. I was getting ready to banish it when he kneeled down in front of me, and begged for help. I was surprised, and confused. Slowly I realized he wasn’t an angry, scary person to be avoided, he was scared and needed help. My heart melted away the fear, and I decided to work on Mateusz.

After three terms of service, around 15 years, Mateusz and his energy was a mess. His stress levels had completely disabled his ability to cope. I could see his body was infested with demons, and more swarmed around him, fending me off and saying ‘He’s mine!’ People, especially soldiers, often speak about being haunted by their demons. While they might mean it metaphorically, I take it literally because I can see them. Being around death, whether you are a soldier, a doctor, or just there by chance, can break down your natural protection and allow them into your body.

There were way more demons than I had ever seen before, and it was emotionally overwhelming and down-right frightening to watch them attack Mateusz’s soul. While this is part of my special healing gift, it still requires great courage on my part to face them, and to hold the space for my guide Archangel Michael to step in. He blasted away the demons surrounding Mateusz’s body, and put up a protective barrier so they couldn’t come back. He then pulled the thousands of demons out of Mateusz’s heart. Up they went, like startled bats out of a cave. Michael and I followed them up, deciding what to do with them. After all the death Mateusz had seen, it just wasn’t right to kill them. So Michael turned them into little white wings, and set them free in heaven.

Mateusz’s heart was ravaged, destroyed, by his many years of service in war-torn countries. I pulled it out, and replaced it with his 15-year-old heart, when he was full of hope and adventure. I left his energy resting so he could heal.

While I was working, the real-life Mateusz went out for a ski with a few others for the first time since arriving. About 15 minutes after I finished the healing session, Mateusz came crashing back into the hut. He broke his ski pole and needed another one.

He was different… He was laughing!

His voice boomed through the hut as he told his story, speaking more than he had in four days. With a huge grin, he grabbed another pole and was gone.

I cried. I actually cried. I’m a hard-ass Aries and I don’t cry. Did I really help this tortured man? I was filled with joy at the thought.

Was this my sign? Was this the event that would finally prove to me that I am a healer? It was the end of March, I had held my courage to face a very difficult case, and a man was transformed.

That night at dinner Mateusz joined in the fun for the first time. He sat at my table in the middle of the room, with his back fully exposed. He laughed and told stories.

As I helped with dishes in the kitchen, Mateusz again found me. I have since figured out that people who really need my help are simply drawn to me. As we chatted, he discovered that I was an energy healer. As he seemed very interested, I screwed up my courage and told Mateusz that I had worked on him earlier. “Ahh, so that’s why I feel so good,” was his reply.

We talked for two hours. Well, he talked, and I listened. He told me how hard it was being deployed to a war zone, and when the mission was over, sent home. After a short three-hour plane flight, Mateusz was back in peaceful society, watching people drink fancy coffees in the warm sun, completely unaware and uncaring that others were suffering and dying. This constant juxtaposition was torture.

I told Mateusz that I would like to work on him some more (knowing I was no way near being done), but he was hesitant. Mateusz told me he had demons, and didn’t want me to get hurt. He had no idea what I had already dealt with! I said I was strong, and could handle whatever he threw at me. He looked straight at me, his hard eyes drilling into mine. After several intense moments his entire body relaxed, almost slumped. He decided he could trust me.

I worked on Mateusz three more times before he returned home, each as intense as the first, but entirely different.

I left the Stanley Mitchell Hut knowing that my path was before me. I was meant to be a healer. I am a healer. More importantly though, I am meant to help those with PTSD. Writing about my Journey so publicly is my way of gathering my courage so I can reach out to others. I’m sharing how I dealt with PTSD, and one example of how I helped another, so those who need me can find me.

Please remember that seeking help is a sign of strength. It look all of Mateusz’ strength to let me in and accept my help. Be strong. Gather your courage, and call me or someone else you trust.

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* Not his real name.