Читать книгу The Journey: A Practical Guide to Healing Your life and Setting Yourself Free - Brandon Bays, Kevin Billett Brandon Bays - Страница 10

Chapter 2

As I stood in the L.A. sunshine for that brief moment when it seemed as if time stood still, I felt that the whole of my life had been lived to bring me to this very point. Snatches of memories of the various spiritual and mind-body healing teachings I’d experienced through years of study flowed through my mind.

I felt a welling up of gratitude for all I’d learned, for all the teachers I’d learned from, and for all the case histories I’d studied of people who had been diagnosed with illnesses more serious than mine, people who had, with great courage, been successful in healing themselves. Not only had I read, studied, and learned of hundreds of these cases, but also over many years I had been privileged to therapeutically help others as they successfully underwent their healing journeys. I realized that their experiences had been a real-life example for me, and their courage had kindled my own. I knew that if there was just one person who had been successful in healing at a physical-cellular level, then it meant that every human body was capable of cellular healing. So I knew without doubt it was possible; I just didn’t know what my healing journey would be.

I turned around, realizing that I had been immersed in my thoughts for some time, and that my dear friend Catherine was still standing next to me. I gave her a look of incredulity, and said, “Well, at least I’ve got a month’s time. Let’s go get some juice. I’m feeling a little shaky—I need to pull myself together.”

From the Good Earth health food restaurant I called my husband, Don, who was out of town, giving seminars as Head Trainer with Anthony Robbins. I tried not to let my voice sound overly concerned as I relayed the news—“Remember that appointment I had with the surgeon to check out why my stomach was getting so fat?”

“Oh, yeah, how did it go?”

“Well, I’ve been diagnosed with a tumor the size of a basketball, and I’ve been given one month to sort it out.”

There was a long silence over the phone—Don was speechless.

Then, “Shit, one month?”

Though an articulate, erudite Ph.D., he seemed utterly at a loss for words. Mumbling something unintelligible he handed the phone over to Tony, who was also my boss. I hadn’t expected that. I felt very exposed and on the spot, but tried to sound chirpy and confident as I gave Tony the news. Stumbling, I said, “Hey, Tone, I don’t know if you’d noticed my stomach has grown kind of fat in recent months.” (I thought I’d been successful in covering it up in long, flowing, romantic dresses.)

“Yeah, Brandon, as a matter of fact I had noticed . . .”

Embarrassment washed through me, and I suddenly felt at a loss for words. After a long, awkward pause, all my words came rushing at once—“Well . . . I’ve been diagnosed with a tumor the size of a basketball, and I’ve been given just one month to sort it out . . .”

Another long pause seemed to hang in the air, as I waited in anticipation for what I feared would be a humiliating response. But, unexpectedly, he replied in a breezy, encouraging tone, “Not a problem, Brandon, you’ll get it handled—I’ll see you at Mastery” (a seminar taking place in Hawaii in only one month’s time).

Tony passed the phone back to Don, and I gave him a condensed version of all the medical details, assuring him I’d get the blood loss problem handled immediately, and I got off the phone.

I stood by the phone box mildly stunned, mused over the conversation with Tony, and thought about his response. “Not a problem, Brandon, you’ll get it handled.” I realized the absolute confidence he had in me, and also the certainty he felt about how quickly healing can take place in the body—cellularly. I thought, “He’s right, it can and does happen that quickly, and I need to make sure I only tell people who have this knowledge and certainty. I can’t afford to invite the negativity of well-meaning people who project their own doubts, fears, and ill-judged sympathy onto me. I’ve only got one month. It’s precious time.”

At that moment I made a silent promise to myself that I would tell only those people whom I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt would wholeheartedly support me in a positive way—who were certain that I could and would heal.

I ended up telling only eight people.

After lunch, I immediately went to our local homeopathic pharmacy and spoke to the pharmacist about my condition. He suggested a few herbal and homeopathic remedies, including one to help stop the bleeding, and cautioned me to stop all caffeine intake, as there are statistics that indicate that caffeine can increase tumor size dramatically.

I then went home and did a simple neuro-linguistic mind-body healing process on myself to stop the bleeding. A day and a half later I was surprised and relieved to discover that, except for occasional spotting, the bleeding had stopped.

I then called the doctor. Upon hearing the news, she sounded skeptical but somewhat open, making sure she cautioned me before ending the conversation with “. . . if any of your symptoms worsen at all, call me immediately.”

It wasn’t until after I put down the phone that I realized I’d actually succeeded in safely buying myself an entire month. I relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. Then it began to dawn on me that now my real work lay ahead.