C O P Y R I G H T E D M A T E R I A L
A L L R I G H T S R E S E R V E D
From Chapter 9 - A Healer's Teacher . . .
Would it shock you to meet a man who knew everything? A man who could look into your very soul? I searched the world over, through letters and in person, hoping to find a Master Healer who would know me to the very core of my being. For years, I envisioned such a person tapping me on the head to awaken further powers of healing within me. Filled with a desire to treat thousands a day, I dreamed this dream. And for as long as I can remember, I knew there would be an old man in my life who would become my great teacher. I searched and searched until I tired of searching and finally let
go. Then God took over and it happened . . .
Having given up my search, I was irritated when Fred, a close friend, persisted in asking me along whenever he went to visit an old man in Long Beach, California. Fred nagged me for a year to go with him while I steadfastly refused. My dream was ready to come true, but I was
dragging my feet. To further ruffle my feathers, Fred quoted this mysterious stranger all the time. One day when I couldn’t stand it a moment longer, I confronted him, “Fred, I don’t want to hear what some old man has to say. I want to hear what you have to say.”
Fred replied, “Why would I give you my opinion? I’ve never found a source of greater wisdom than this old man. Why shouldn’t I quote him? If I can ever express more wisdom than Mr. S., I will, until then, I can only quote him.”
With great reluctance, I finally agreed to go with Fred to meet this paragon of wisdom and truth. I was secretly hoping our meeting would, once and for all, lay the matter to rest, and put an end to Fred’s incessant quoting. Ready for anything—or so I thought—we drove to Long Beach where we parked in front of a small, tidy house, a few blocks from Bixby Park. Fred knocked on the front door and a strong voice called out, “Enter.”
Fred led the way through the house to the living room. Glancing around as I followed him, I saw elegant furnishings from the early 1900s, befitting a gentleman of the old school. Faint traces of pipe tobacco in the air mingled with the delicious aroma of what smelled like a fine beef stew, coming from the kitchen.
Walking confidently ahead of me, Fred entered the living room. Peering over his shoulder, I saw an older gentleman sitting in a rocking chair puffing on a pipe. He nodded toward Fred, who then introduced me. The Old Man turned toward me and our eyes locked. I nearly stepped back from the power in his eyes. His first look pierced my soul, probing its very depths. In that instant, I saw that he knew all about me and my life, what I had gone through, and what I would go through in the future. In my heart, I knew he knew, but I resolved to ignore the impact of those penetrating eyes.
Taking a seat near the Old Man, Fred initiated a quiet conversation with him. Across the room, I remained standing, leaning against a wall with my arms crossed, trying to convince myself that I really didn’t have that much to learn from anyone. While they talked, I studied the Old Man. His wavy hair was intensely white and his piercing eyes were chestnut brown. Formally dressed in a suit and tie, he was wearing unusual high top, laced shoes, which I learned later were made from kangaroo skin.
Clearly, Fred was entranced by every word this elderly gent uttered. Being 24, I thought I already knew everything so I wondered what—if anything—he could ever offer me in the way of wisdom. The actual words running through my mind were, “I wonder what this old goat really knows?”
Instantly, the Old Man stopped talking to Fred, turned toward me, and answered, “This old goat knows a lot more than you do.” I was dumbfounded that he had read my mind. I had heard of people having such abilities, but experiencing it first-hand was totally unnerving. In my mind, I exclaimed, “Oh My God!”
Without hesitating, he voiced my thought, “Yes . . . Oh My God!”
The next few minutes went on forever. Every thought I had, he spoke aloud. Thoughts raced through my mind and the Old Man calmly voiced each one. I never uttered a word, and Fred apparently knew better than to interrupt the Old Man as he verbalized my thoughts. I was soon drenched in sweat although I tried my best to appear cool, calm and collected.
No matter where I hid in my mind, the Old Man was right there beside me. No sooner would I slam a mental door shut, then he would appear on my side of the door. Once I gave up and stopped trying to run, he left me to my own thoughts. Grateful to have survived, I took a few
deep breaths, hoping that I didn’t appear as unnerved as I felt.
At this point, the Old Man said, “A quart can only hold a quart. I’m not about to spill truth all over the ground. You’re both full up. Another time.” Fred got up and we said our goodbyes. I was thrilled to escape. No other human being had ever made me feel so unsettled. I realized I had met a man with powers beyond any I had ever imagined.
Just as I was about to walk out of the living room, the Old Man banged his pipe firmly into a heavy glass ashtray to get my attention. As I hesitated, he asked if I would like to know my worst fault. Without thinking, I answered, “Yes.” This was the first and only word I had spoken during our visit. Timing his reply for maximum effect, he slowly added tobacco to his pipe, relit it, and took a few puffs, “You talk too much.”
Stunned by his observation, I was speechless. I had spent the entire time there deliberately contributing nothing to the conversation between Fred and the Old Man. Then he added, “If you ever get into trouble, it will be from giving your opinion and the luxury of having the last word.” I didn’t appreciate hearing this because I knew it was all too true. Clearly he saw into me—warts and all—and I agonized on the way home while I thought about his parting words.
After I arrived home, I rambled on and on about the Old Man to my wife. Now, like Fred, I found myself quoting him constantly. For the next two weeks, my energy level was so high, I quite simply “buzzed.” Only after I had been to see him many times, did I make the connection between being in his presence and the high energy buzz I felt after seeing him.
Everything else in my life took a backseat while I explored this amazing opportunity to learn from the Old Man. Each time I saw him, I came to life and glowed in the days that followed. My energy was raised to a higher vibration than I had ever experienced before. This sustained
high made it difficult to sleep, but that was a small price to pay for all the positive changes happening in my daily life. Months passed before I began to understand the depth of the Old Man’s great power and appreciate the importance of his teachings and the effect they would have on my practice as a healer.
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