CATEGORY: THERAPIES

There were many different kinds of therapies available in Port Townsend.  Sometimes I would buck up my courage and give one a try.  The most interesting that I did was called Body Electronics.  The process was first explained by the therapist.  He said that we store traumas in our bodies which eventually cause, or have already caused, illness or malfunction, because they form blockages to our energy flow.  These traumas have been stored because we have denied or been denied the emotional expression of them.  There are points on the body where those traumas are stored.  When pressure is applied to the points, it causes the person to go into an altered state, relive the traumas and express the emotions, thereby releasing the suppressed charge.  The way that the therapist knows which points need to be held is by iridology the study of the irises of the eye.  I was told that if a person has suffered little trauma in this life, he/she will experience trauma from past lives, including their deaths in those lives, if the deaths were traumatic.

I had believed in reincarnation since I was in my twenties and had read books about Edgar Cayce, so I did not need to be convinced on that score.  I enrolled in the course.  There were ten in our group.  We met three times a week for six weeks.  The process was that all the participants drank liquid minerals which increased our electrical flow.  Then one person lay on a table while others held their points.   We had two tables with four people holding points at each table.  The person holding points needed patience and endurance.  The points could be difficult to find; when they were found, they got hot.  The heat was uncomfortable for the holders, so it took determination to keep fingers there.

Amazing things happened in this group.  One of our members was a teen aged boy, who had been a prize fighter in a previous life in which he died in the ring.  Lying on the table he went through the fight, with all the accompanying motions and sounds.

The most amazing “re-living” of all happened with someone maned Ian. When he was eighteen, he had been partially paralyzed by hitting his head on a rock while diving from a low cliff into a community swimming hole in a river.  He had started to drown and was saved and resuscitated.  It was a harrowing experience for him.  Afterwards he was in a wheelchair and was told he would have to be in one for the rest of his life.  However he gradually recovered enough to walk with a cane by throwing one leg ahead of the other.  Then he became a successful writer and was now retired at 55.  He had a wife and a nice home in Port Townsend where he had recently moved from California.

I was one of the point holders on Ian.  I held points on his left foot and sat in a chair to do so.  Every time he was treated the same thing happened: he would lie there for awhile and then start getting cold.  The points were hot, but he would get so cold that everyone could feel it.  I especially could feel it because the cold would start pouring off his feet and legs down onto my lap.  Then he would start groaning and say, “I’m cold.  I’m so cold.  I’m so COLD.  I AM SO COLD.”  Then suddenly he would shout, “I’m drowning!! I’m drowning!!!  HELP!  I’M DROWNING!!!”  He would gasp for breath and his body would thrash around on the table.  The first time this happened it was totally shocking to everybody, even though he had told us about his accident.  At the end of the six weeks we all thought he was walking a little better, but our therapist said that he would need many more sessions to get that much agony out of his body.

My own sessions were also surprising.  The first one was a past life death.  I was a young man.  I was riding a horse bareback.  The horse was running very fast at the edge of a herd of stampeding buffalo.  Their hooves were pounding the earth.  Dust was so thick I could feel it in my eyes and in my mouth and nose making it difficult to breath.  Despite the dust I could see other young men on horse back, also running with the heard, so I knew that I, like they were Plains Indians.  I was right beside one buffalo.  Through the dust I could even see dried mud balls in its shaggy mane.  I got a feeling that I recognized from my child hood, a thrill right before I did something dangerous, like right before I jumped out of the hay loft onto the hard ground.  I thought, “It would be so easy to slip off my horse and onto the back of this buffalo.  I would be riding a buffalo!”

Then, before I actually did it, the scene shifted, but I knew I was still the same person.  I was lying outside on my back in an arid place.  In front of me was a large rock formation jutting up from the desert floor.  Around me were other rocks.  There was one near my head.  I knew that I was wounded in the chest.  I knew exactly where.  I had pulled an arrow out from between my ribs and could see the red, purple and brownish yellow edge of the wound.  I started to sing out loud, “ayee, ayee, ayee ay, wha ha ay.”  Our therapist came running over from another table.  He said jokingly, “Are you Big Chief Red Skin?”  I was far, far away from that room and that table, but I could feel a genuine rage that started at my feet and traveled up my whole body.  When it got to my head, I felt an icy stillness.  I said, clearly and distinctly, my voice full of anger, “THIS IS A DEATH CHANT, YOU IDIOT!”  Our leader immediately was silent.  He went away and later apologized to me.  He said that because it had happened so soon after the beginning of the session, he thought I was pretending.

Later in our sessions, I had points held on my spine.  At that time there were three tables and only one person, Kathryn, was holding my points.  I started crying uncontrollably.  It seems beyond belief to me now, but that woman held the points on my spine while I cried for eight hours, stopping only when I needed to go to the bathroom and drink more mineral water to keep hydrated and “electrified.”  I never had any memories of why I was crying.  Our therapist said it was grief.  How he decided that, I do not know.  He said that he had never witnessed anyone who had so much grief stored in their spine.  I thought if that were true, it could not all be from this life time.

This, plus a trip to “healers” in Bali soon afterwards completely cured me of having painful back spasms in which my back would give way completely causing me to fall to the floor–or ground or sidewalk depending on where I was at the time.