3 steps to profound healing (broken heart, bones, spirit)

I bleed. 

My heart bleeds out into the lonely night, and only the yearning for daylight; only the memory of a better day gives me hope...

Do you know what I mean? I know you do.

At least on some level, you do.

I’m a healer. I work as a therapist, I counsel people, and I heal their wounds (mostly emotional, but also physical). I didn’t ever desire to do this. I wanted to do many things, but never this…

When it came on me though, I knew it was my calling.

Healing is the simplest, most natural thing in the world. There are just 3 simple steps that you have to take to heal almost anything.

Of course, not everything can be healed. But even most things that are thought incurable can be.

And these are the 3 steps:

Why I left Bangkok... Part 2 – Blue Sapphires and Red Bull.

Princess Di and a Blue Sapphire. She didn't buy it in Thailand...

I’m sure Bangkok is a beautiful city. I’m sure there are lovely people there, and great things to do and see. I just didn’t do or see or meet any of them. (Click here for part one).

Instead I got on a train and headed North.

I stopped off in a town called Sukhothai. There’s a vast, ancient temple there.

I made friends with a young guy called Thum who worked in the place where I was staying. He was like a stallion. A lot of young Western girls passed through Sukhothai, and he felt obliged to sleep with all of them. He apparently had a strong sense of duty.

I hired a motorbike while I was there, and I’d drive around exploring temples and feeling free (I was 21 years old).

I noticed that all the trucks and lorries seemed to be in a hell of a hurry.

They would hurtle past me on my bike, missing my handlebars by – I swear – millimeters, the back of the truck shaking from side to side and huge clouds of dust kicking up in my face. I nearly died like this several times. Had I veered slightly to the right a moment before they passed I would have been finished...

When I mentioned this to Thum, he disappeared for a while and came back with a little brown medicinal-looking bottle. So I tasted ‘Red Bull’ for the first time (the taste was the same, but as for the ingredients, I don’t know…) back in 1994. Thum told me that it had amphetamines in it, and that the truck drivers all drank it to be able to drive longer and so make more money. I believed him. It gave an incredible energy kick.

(Year later, when I was a youth worker, I had a kid called Aaron in one of my programs. One night he had to be hospitalized after drinking 6 Red Bulls. He'd had a heart attack. He was 16 years old.)

There were two workmen hammering away on the roof of a small hut. I noticed that they’d hammer slowly and rhythmically for about 10 minutes, and then they’d climb down (slowly and rhythmically) and disappear inside for about 10 more minutes (before reappearing and staring their slow rhythm all over again). I mentioned my observation to Thum. He grinned his great big beautiful Thai smile, and led me into the hut they were working on. There was a man-size bong the in the middle of the room, and Thum sparked it up for me. He told me to take a hit. I took one hit, and then I went to my room and lay down.

I began to hear the most beautiful symphonic dance music. It was the coolest tune I’d ever heard, incredibly complex and uplifting. It was drum’n bass, several years before drum ‘n bass had even been invented. I wondered where the music was coming from, and got up a few times to try and find it. But every time I stood up, the music stopped. So I lay down and finally accepted that it was in my head. At first I was a little concerned. Then I relaxed and allowed the music to take me. Before falling asleep I wondered whether this new ability would last… it didn’t. I’ve not spontaneously composed symphonic drum ‘n bass since, and it’s probably a Good Thing.

There was a cool girl from Canada called Tina staying there (longer than she’d planned, until she met Thum), and she introduced me to PJ Harvey. Tina and I also went on a motorbike ride to a nature reserve. We hired a bike and I drove all the way there with her hanging on to my back. It was incredibly hot and dusty, and by the time we got there we didn’t have much time to swim in the waterfall. I swam and she watched (as I remember), and after I came out she took a photo of me and said it would be good for my portfolio (I was an aspiring actor).

On the way back it was getting dark, and the air was full of insects. Every few seconds I’d get shot in the face by a flying beetle, and it seriously hurt. Tina hid behind my shoulders and was more or less ok. It felt like an epic journey. I was the hero; no one but Tina could ever understand...

Why I had to leave Bangkok after just one night. Part 1 - The Girl with Black Eyes.

I cried a little writing this. Sometimes, I am ashamed to be a man…

I was 21 years old and I went to Thailand. A guy I knew who was very cool had been there, so I thought that perhaps if I went to Thailand, I’d be cool too. As far as I can remember that was my motivation… and I guess I wanted to grow up a little.

Well, I grew up a little.

It’s funny. Before I left, my Mum begged me to promise to call her every day. I thought she was insane and I assured her in no uncertain terms that I would not be giving her daily progress reports. As it turned out though, she had good reason to worry!

I’d planned to stay 3 nights in Bangkok, and then get on a train and go North. It didn’t work out that way…

When I arrived, I headed for the area where all the tourists usually stay. I forget the name (Khao San road?), but it’s very well know. And actually, the place I ended up staying is the place where Leonardo DiCaprio’s character stays in the movie The Beach. I was there first, but only for one night.

I was 21 years old and alone in a very strange land. I went down the steps into the sitting area below and ordered a beer. I remember feeling like a fish out of water. I don’t know what I was thinking, going to Thailand. I wasn’t comfortable in my own skin, let alone South East Asia. But there I was…

And there were a couple of old Thai Dudes playing chess, and I sat near them and plucked up the courage to watch. In the end, I had a game with one of them (my Dad taught me to play chess when I was about 5 years old, and by the time I was 15 I was beating him consistently. He was a very, very sore loser, and wouldn’t speak to me after we played. He’d just go to bed sulking. I never let him win though, even though my Mum asked me to when he was sick. I couldn’t do that to him. I loved him too much).

Anyway, here’s what happened in Bangkok:

I played a little chess with this old Thai Dude and he was a bit of a charmer. After our game, he invited me out for some “traditional Thai food and music”. I was really happy – I wanted to get to know the real Thailand, not just the Khao San road (or whatever it’s called). So off we went… and ended up in this fairly tacky looking restaurant. The manager was floating around us, wringing his hands and doing his best “I’m servile and I’ll do anything for a tip” act. The band played synthesized Western rock songs. It was awful. And the only other thing I remember from the evening was the girl with black eyes...

My wife told me to edit this (too graphic). I didn’t – read at your own discretion.

I had a miserable childhood.

Don’t get me wrong: I was blessed with great parents who gave me very strong foundations. But beyond that, I got a fairly tough deal.

Each and every school I went to sucked. Sucked with a capital S.

Strange really because they were all private schools; or as we say in England (in a typically counter-intuitive, oxymoronic kind of a way), public schools. The schools that parents have to pay a lot of money to send their kids to.

So I supposedly had one of the best educations that money can buy! Sure didn’t feel like it though… and I suspect that education is not something that can, or should be, bought…

***

When I was six, we lived in Israel for a year. I didn’t speak a word of Hebrew when we first got there, and I didn’t know a soul, but the ‘teacher’ made me stand facing into the corner at the front of the classroom, all the Israeli kids behind me sniggering at the pale, dumb kid who even the teacher didn’t like.

My mother had to pick me up from hospital one day – I’d had my head cracked open by a rock-wielding Israelite. I must admit, I may have thrown the first stone. But his was a lot bigger…

2 things wrong here: One: ‘priests’ who abuse children. Two: a ‘church’ that has $166m in spare change.

Photo credit: Peter Watts

The thing that struck me most about this story of an order of Catholic Jesuits who have agreed to pay out $166m to the (Native American) victims of child abuse (at the hands of their priests) was not the sexual abuse.

We all know that priests have been abusing children sexually. We know how widespread it’s been (and hope it no longer is). Somehow, it’s not that shocking anymore. Amazing how easily we become desensitized to something isn’t it?

The thing that hit me most was the money.

What business does the Church, or any so-called religious institution, have hoarding hundreds of millions of dollars?!

I somehow can’t imagine Jesus ‘saving for a rainy day’.

I mean, it’s not like there are people starving in the world is it? Or villages without water? Or vast numbers of homeless refugees?

I’m not saying that the ‘victims’ of those priests don’t deserve a little compensation.

I’m saying that they shouldn’t need to be compensated, because they should never have been abused in the first place.

And a church that is one of the wealthiest institutions in the world, and whose representatives damage the people they are meant to protect, needs to be seriously questioned.

How healing, therapy, and personal development just became super-fast, and easy!

Until quite recently the accepted view was that therapy takes time (not to mention money).

Now, for real inner transformation, only a few sessions (with an expert) are needed. Sometimes only one!
How is this possible?
Well, therapy evolved. It used to be psychological, or emotional, or ‘energy’ oriented. The problem with these approaches is that the root cause is (very often) not healed: because the cause of our problems is rarely, if ever, head, or heart, or energy based.
The root cause is almost always a deeply subconscious association that relates to survival, safety, or sexuality.
And that means it relates to the gut...

HEALING the trauma of sexual abuse

It's taboo. It makes us feel uncomfortable.
But the statistics are staggering: it is estimated that 25% of girls and 17% of boys are sexually abused before the age of 18*.
The reason I want to write about this is that if you were abused, or if you know someone who was abused, I CAN HELP.


I am also one of those statistics: I was sexually abused by a teacher who became a 'family friend'. From the age of 10 until about 16 I was repeatedly molested...


Sexual abuse causes us to feel small, powerless, weak, lonely, isolated, ashamed, guilty, and depressed. When it happens to a child there is a loss of innocence, a loss of trust, and a loss of openness. The results can be devastating...