Marie Manuchehri RN - Intuitive self-healing: achieve balance and wellness through the bodys energy centers

Intuitive

Self-Healing

Marie Manuchehri, RN

To the human race, especially my daughters
Maryam, Misha, and Mina

I love you all.

IM GRATEFUL TO BE PART of the growing and ever-changing field of energy medicine. I find human beings amazing, and the human condition fascinating. I believe we are all gifted and talented beyond our wildest dreams.

Contents

Acknowledgments

I GIVE MY DEEPEST THANKS to the many people who supported me in writing this book.

To my writing coach, Emily Warn, who helped me finish a book I had been dreaming of completing for years. Emily, your love of teaching and writing is a winning combination. Your ability to teach me that I can write changed my world.

To Susie Russell Hall, for her amazing illustrations. Your skill and insight breathed life into the pages of this book.

To my dear friends and children Andria Friesen, Trish Maharam, Timothy Brodesser, Amy Gunter, Sheila Dunn Merritt, Maryam Manuchehri, Misha Manuchehri, and Mina Manuchehri, for tirelessly reading and rereading the books chapters. Your feedback and enthusiasm helped me enormously.

To my kind assistant, Elissa Wildenborg, who kept all the balls in the air so I could write.

To my agent, Eric Myers, for helping me acquire the publisher of my dreams.

To Ainslie MacLeod, a very special thank you for your friendship, intuition, and support.

And finally, thank you to my clients, who didnt stop asking me to write a book. It has been my greatest pleasure.

Introduction

FALL 1997: BEGINNINGS

Hundreds of tiny golden pyramids, each about one inch in diameter, spin around my bed, humming and vibrating softly. Glowing brightly, they illuminate the bedroom just before dawn, allowing me to see their tiny mud-brick structure a vision that has been appearing for several weeks. Their vibration pulses through my body, as if they are alive and teaching me their rhythm. I hold still between the warm white sheets, worried that the throbbing hum will wake my slumbering husband next to me and our daughters down the hall. My husband doesnt stir. Then I rememberonly I can see, hear, and feel the pyramids.

This vision was only one in a series of mystical encounters that had begun months before. The morning greeting answered my nightly question: would the triangles disappear as abruptly as they appeared?

The paranormal experiences were a welcome distraction from my predictable suburban life: kids, work, grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning. Their unexplained wonder gave me something to look forward to, something just for me. They also reminded me of my childhood home. As a teenager, I would avidly read the books on spirituality and self-actualization that filled my mothers bookshelves. They awakened something in me that I couldnt explain but that touched my heart deeply. On Sundays I visited churches, searching for human contact that could move me as these books did. I found none. I kept my activities secret from my peer group, hoping to fit in. Now, years later, what I remembered from my reading allowed me to trust these auditory and visual encounters that were not of this world.

During this time I worked as a registered oncology nurse, an odd career choice given my holistic upbringing; in my childhood home we would often eat organic food and take nutritional supplements, and we saw a chiropractor as our primary physician. I loved nursing, though, but worried that if a patient required an emergency intervention such as a defibrillator to restart the heart, the mystical images, voices, and feelings that I sometimes perceived might distract me. I sensed my inner awareness changing and wondered if I would easily recognize signs of distress and respond quickly with a crash cart.

I decided to share my worries with my supervisor, Lois Williams. When she saw me walking toward her second-floor office, she waved me in. I often visited her office to request additional support for treatments that were outside of routine hospital protocol. She was always helpful and interested in my opinions, and she often came up with creative solutions. Lois probably thought I was visiting for a similar reason this time. I was pretty sure she had never dealt with this type of problem.

I told Lois about the golden pyramids, the odd feelings, and the voices Id been hearing. Her physical response was calm and centered. I had no idea what she was thinking. Surprisingly, she neither suspended me from my job nor ordered a psychiatric evaluation. Instead, she explained that I was viewing energy. She encouraged me to touch patients with my hands instead of a stethoscope. Terms such as chakra and hands-on healing flowed from her mouth as if they were common to her vocabulary. I had no idea what a chakra was, but hearing the word set in motion a constant wave of emotion in my heart. As I backed out of her office in disbelief about our conversation, I saw for the first time a calming waterfall behind her desk. Behind the waterfall was a beautifully framed picture of an angel, who seemed to smile.

Three days later, the wave in my chestas I could think of little elseenticed me to lay my hands on a patient. Not knowing what would happen, I carefully chose the healthiest patient on the floor, a sixty-year-old female scheduled to go home the next day. Having no clue about what to do, I entered her hospital room and promptly shut the door behind me, hoping to prevent anyone else from coming in and asking me what I was doing. I introduced myself to the patient. Her face was tight; she probably thought I had a needle or some other invasive tool to prod her with. I explained that I wanted to gently place my hands on her. Her face softened as my words sank in. She liked the idea. I paused, stunned: my multisensory world frightened no one.

Even though I had touched hundreds of patients as a nurse, this time felt different. A strange inner calm filled my body as I gently laid my hands on top of the cotton hospital blanket, near the middle of the womans belly. She closed her eyes and softly sighed. My eyes shut, too. Was it my focus on the simple act of touching another that relaxed us? In seconds I heard a high-pitched, barely audible harp melody. The haunting tune flooded my senses, coming from a place that was familiar, but of which I had no conscious memory. The unknown yet tangible surroundings and the melodic music brought tears down my cheeks. Blushing, I peeked with one moist eye at the patient. Her eyes were still closed. She, too, was freely weeping. It seemed as if the patient and I stayed in a magical state for hours, but when I gazed at the clock on the wall, only a few minutes had passed.

Suddenly I felt my head pulled intensely toward her body, forcing my eyes wide open. I was within inches of her, looking directly at her midsection. Panic rose in me as the force became stronger. I turned my head slightly to look at the patient. Her calm, tear-stained face had not changed. Seeing her peaceful look settled me. What was I afraid of? My mind gave me a quick pep talk: Something wonderful is happening, just go with it.

I lowered my head a few inches closer to her stomach, relaxing the strained muscles in my neck, and closed my eyes. An image of the woman I was touching appeared, just as alive as she was. In my mind, I could see her chest rise and fall, her eyelids slightly flutter, and her left foot move underneath the white blanket.

I wanted to open my eyes to see if what I was viewing was simultaneously happening in the room, but then the vision changed. Strangely and miraculously, I was now viewing the inside of the patients body. As if I were watching the Discovery Channel, I could see her organs, tissues, bones, and blood pulsating together. I momentarily felt gratitude for the anatomy classes Id taken years ago. Had they been in preparation for this event?