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/ A W A R E N E S S M A G A Z I N E
J A N U A R Y / F E B R U A R Y 2 0 1 1
24 / A W A R E N E S S M A G A Z I N E
J A N U A R Y / F E B R U A R Y 2 0 1 1
I've spent hours upon hours,
lying in a sweat, trying to figure
out if I am going to die, and, if
so, how long will it take and how
much will it hurt. Breast lump
number three is growing at the
speed of light, concrete hard,
and unmovable -- all signs that
it is cancerous and not a cyst.
The free insurance for my state
told me that my eligibility ran
out today, the very day I called
to ask for help, and the federal
program which helps everyone
said that they couldn't see me
for two months.
Several years ago a dedicat-
ed Swami told me about John of
God, the healer from Abadania,
Brazil, now my only remaining
option. Not being a world trav-
eler nor personally drawn to
faith healers, it was solely the
purity of this individual making
the suggestion that allowed me
to undertake such a quest.
STANDING BEFOrE
JOHN OF GOD
Thankfully, I arrive a day be-
fore the activities at the Casa
begin. The Casa is the friendly
name for John of God's heal-
ing center. This day of rest and
grounding is crucial after the
chaotic twenty-four hour jour-
ney here. Claudio and Miriam,
the hosts at my inn, join me at
the otherwise empty breakfast
table for good cheer and chat-
ting. After breakfast, they gather
me up, and whisk me off in their
car to the Casa and into the
arms of their good friend Maris-
sa, a dedicated Casa translator.
I feel grateful that such complete
strangers have taken such a lov-
ing interest in me.
After standing in line for forty-
five minutes, the last remaining
person between John of God and
me moves to the side. I absolute-
ly cannot look at him. Sobs eject
themselves from my throat. All I
can do is weep. Tears all at once
wet with two years of non-stop
anxiety that I was going to die,
and wet with the ecstasy of hav-
ing crossed the portal into this
sacred process. The intensity of
his being consumes me.
All of us birthed from the
loins of the New Age movement
are humbled at the feet of the
man with no ego. The man who
wants nothing... the man who
claims nothing... the man who
accepts ongoing physical pain
and emotional suffering for one
purpose -- to help us. In previ-
ous times, government authori-
ties have persecuted, beaten and
thrown him in jail for his efforts
to heal others free of charge.
Before entering the Casa, I
spent fifteen minutes talking to
Marissa, explaining my disease,
frantic that I wouldn't explain it
carefully enough and therefore
would not be healed. " It started
out as a small lump, the size of a
grape seed, on the outside layer
of my breast. I had it removed
and it was diagnosed as stage
one cancer.... that was eighteen
months ago." I continue on to
describe the reoccurrence: "A
few months ago, I started having
discomfort at the inside core of
my breast, which quickly grew
into a large lump about the size
of a walnut and hard as a rock.
The scariest part is that it feels
like someone is poking me in the
back with a sharp stick, which
makes me believe that it has
spread to my back."
John of God talks right over
the Casa attendant reporting this
description to him: "One crys-
tal bath and then an operation
at two p.m." I am not sure if I
should feel slightly discouraged
or slightly encouraged about this
encounter. Ultimately, no one at
a higher level feels the need to
clarify; it simply isn't necessary.
What's the purpose in clarifying
faith -- it's a bit oxymoronic.
THE TrEATMENT
The modesty and friendliness
of this isolated country town re-
juvenates visitors in ways that
go beyond what even the nicest
spas in America can achieve. I
am feeling refreshed and amazed
at the anxiety I have released in
a few short days. The pandemo-
nium of my life has faded and I
am excited and nervous about
my operation.
All the patients needing op-
erations file into the operation
room and sit on wooden bench-
es side by side. "Sit with your
eyes closed. It is very impor-
tant not to open your eyes. Put
your hand on the part of your
body that needs help or put your
hand over your heart." We sit in
the described posture for along
time.
I wait to hear the prayers from
John of God, a process I remem-
ber from my previous trip. Then
I hear someone singing in Portu-
guese, lightly, happily and rather
loudly. I feel a wave of intense
and unfamiliar emotions wash
over me.
A Casa interpreter explains to
me later and matter-of-factly that
this is Dom Inacio, who likes
to sing. Of the unusually large
number of spirits who commu-
nicate and heal through John of
God, Dom Inacio is considered
to be the most powerful. After
sitting in this fashion for about
thirty minutes, surgery is com-
plete and we are directed to get
lots of sleep.
I have permission to with-
draw, to vegetate and to recup-
erate from a high-pitched chaos
of disease remediation. The soft
rainy then sunny weather is very
much like Hawaii. I welcome
the sleep that happens after op-
erations -- there is no sleep like
this sleep. Although I slept well
last night, I sleep soundly for
several more hours. Claudio and
Miriam, who brought the healing
soup of the Casa to my room be-
fore my nap, now bring supper
to my room.
THE HEALING
Over the six-week period I
have spent here, I have had op-
Humbled At His Feet
A Healing by John of God
by Debi bird
Left: John of
God stands at
the entrance
to the current
healing room.
below: Casa
attendant,
Marissa,
schedules
crystal baths.