Crystal Healing. When crystal healing is mentioned most people tend to think of a client’s body bedecked with a huge variety of crystals of all sizes. Amethysts, citrine, rose quartz, carnelian and hematite etc. They would be right, practitioners use a huge variety of crystals in their work. Today I’ll tell you about three healings where I only used or recommended the use of clear quartz crystal points. In my quest to give everything a go I finally found time to learn about crystals. I tried a variety of them for various healings and noticed that some people reacted quite well with them. With some others it was a case of, Ho Hum. A family friend came to visit one day, a woman in her mid sixties who we’ll call Freda. We sat at the kitchen table having a chat and I noticed her playing with her wedding ring. She kept trying to pull it off but her knuckles were larger than normal. I nodded at her hand, ‘Problem?’ – ‘Yes, I have arthritis and it’s become worse, I have to get the rings cut off.’ – ‘Hang on.’ I nipped down to the healing room and returned with a few, small clear quartz points. Sitting down again I had her place her hand on the table palm down, with her fingers spread. ‘Now, I’ll put one of these between your fingers.’ With three points nestled between her fingers we continued with our cuppas. After ten minutes there came an audible pop from her ring finger. Freda looked at me then back at her finger. ‘You’re joking, was that you?’ – ‘No, try taking your ring off now.’ She flexed her finger and it popped again, then she slid the ring straight off. She put her hand down again and I replaced the points. After ten minutes she could fully flex all the fingers of her left hand, without any pain.
The piece of pottery is about 3 inches across, so it will give you an idea of how small the points are.
My ex-wife and I were visiting her sister’s house to help her move in. While we were unpacking in the kitchen Wendy went downstairs to the laundry with some washing and fell over. She landed on her left wrist and broke it. We took her to the hospital where it was x-rayed, showing a spiral fracture, Staff placed the wrist in a back cast and bandaged it, telling her to return the following Friday to have it placed in a full cast. We stopped at our house on the way from the hospital and I placed four crystal points on the bandage over the fracture and taped them on with micropore. She kept them on and when she returned to the hospital the nurse removed the crystals and laughed at her, intimating that it was a load of crap. She had another x-ray and they couldn’t find the fracture. They accused her of basically stuffing them around until they checked against the previous week’s images. For all intents and purposes the fracture had healed. They put a full cast on anyway and she stuck the crystals back on.
A couple of years before Lorelle and I became an item a 79-year-old family friend of hers was involved in a serious traffic accident. We’ll call him Sol. He was a passenger in a car hit by a red light runner. Sol suffered several injuries that during his stay in hospital were healed by normal methods. Not so the compound fracture to his left fibula. Whenever I dropped into her shop I would inquire about Sol. ‘They’re on top of everything else Laurie but his leg isn’t healing. Any suggestions?’ I nipped out to the crystal shop further in the centre and returned with four clear quartz points. I dropped them into her hand and said, ‘Here you go, put them around or near the injury like the four points of a compass. The longer you can keep them there the better it will be.’
She visited Sol that evening in a major Brisbane hospital and put them on the cage around his leg. The following night she turned up and the staff had thrown them away. She brought more the following night, taped them up in the desired shape and put them in Sol’s short’s pocket. Staff threw them away again and when Lorelle confronted them she was told, ‘Although we respect a person’s right to their beliefs, we don’t condone the use of crystals.’ She bought another set and told him not to let them know he had them. Sol spent six weeks in that hospital and returned to Ipswich hospital for rehabilitation covering ten weeks, never letting the crystals off his person. Twelve months to the day he had his final visit with the specialist who said, ‘I don’t know what you’ve been doing Sol but whatever it is keep doing it. Your leg has healed far better than an eighteen year old would have with the same injuries.’ So there we have it, something happened and I believe it’s down to the crystal points magnifying the body’s energy system.
Readings online. No, this isn’t an invitation to have a reading done. I’m showing that nothing can stand in the way of a good psychic reading. When my son left home and moved to Canada his computer stayed behind, and being a gent he let me use it in his absence. He spent most of his time recovering from spinal surgery on various chat rooms, mainly those looking for friends. After he left I used it to chat with him at various times. I finally managed to create my own ‘handle’ and spent a couple of hours a night online. In the area marked hobbies I put psychic pursuits and thought nothing more of it. One evening his friend Alice took over and she asked me if I could see anything about an old friend who had died a few years earlier. Being open to anything new I said I’d give it a go. The system didn’t need to be changed, I sat with my fingers on the keyboard and opened my mind. Like any other reading I needed a connection with the client and typed, ‘Okay I’m ready.’ – ‘Can you tell me if he’s around?’ – ‘Hang on.’ Within half a minute I found myself looking down onto a land based oil rig. Several men were on the platform, one of them a native Canadian looked into the pipe then, Blam! My vision became obscured by a huge splash of blackness, oil and then burning gas. Nothing. A pause and I felt myself being taken over. My fingers fairly flew over the keyboard and I didn’t have a clue what I was on about. I barely saw what Alice wrote as I typed like a man possessed, which I was. It finished abruptly and I typed, ‘That’s it.’ – ‘OMG, that was him, Alan, he died in a oilwell explosion and all those things you wrote. It was him, the way he wrote, the words he used. Oh, it was him.’ I took a little time and read what I’d typed and had to agree with her, it certainly wasn’t me. Alice asked if I could speak with Alan’s mother. I closed my eyes and let the old mind wander. A forest of Birch trees appeared, the sun slanting through the trees took my gaze for a moment then a woman appeared. Dressed in traditional native dress she walked from tree to tree pulling bark off the trees and putting it into a bag. Nothing more. I typed all of this down and Alice came back with, ‘That’s his Mom, her native name was Birch Bark Woman.’
I’d like to see a sceptic come up with an answer to that one. No eye contact, no mind reading. It’s funny how everyone uses that excuse. They don’t believe you’re talking with spirit but jump up and say, ‘Hey, you read their mind.’ Doesn’t this strike you as just as fabulous? There’ll be more about mind reading after this section. I liked hanging out in the chat room and interacting with people from all over the world, there are certainly some characters out there. A message notification popped up and I clicked on it, ‘I see you’re a psychic, I don’t believe it at all.’ – ‘That’s fine, I do. So you want to chat?’ – ‘Yes, about my father, he’s dead.’ – ‘I thought you didn’t believe in this stuff?’ – ‘Well show me.’ I sat for a moment and a vision came into my mind’s eye.
The rusty, battered Dodge pickup truck rattled along a gravel road. Huge buttes stood up in the distance, silhouetted against a cobalt blue sky. The road became a swayback track as the pickup bounced over the corrugations. The driver, an elderly man wore a huge Stetson hat, it almost obscured his thin, drawn features. His passenger appeared even older and his face showed his Apache heritage. The truck kept going down towards the group of trailer homes and shacks clustered near a stand of stunted trees. I heard, Rabbit and Red and the scene faded. I passed this on to the girl and nothing came through for a few minutes, then, ‘You heard Rabbit didn’t you?’ – ‘Yes I did.’ – ‘That was my father’s name and the passenger would have been his brother, Red. They lived on the Reservation.’ I guess she believes in something now.
Mind Reading: A friend’s sister, Elga dropped in to see us one morning for coffee and a chat. We hadn’t seen her for a few years, she’d been back and forth to Germany and had finally settled down and married. I explained that I had a couple of appointments that morning, clients would be turning up and I couldn’t hang around. ‘What do you do?’ – ‘I do psychic readings, medium work, that type of thing.’ – ‘Oh but that is silly, it’s fake. You are mind reading.’ – ‘So, you know all about mind reading do you?’ – ‘Well, I don’t know but it must be fake too.’ Never one to sit back and have someone sneer at what I did I threw down the gauntlet, ‘Okay, I will read your mind. the only thing I ask is that you are honest with me about what you’re thinking at the time.’ She gave a little smirk and I stood up and walked behind her. Placing my hand on her head I said, ‘Whenever you’re ready.’
I had never gone out of my way to ‘read’ someone like that before. This was different to looking at the aura and checking out the past, or future. She would be bringing up a thought and I would be looking at it. Nothing vague, blurry or indistinct here, a beautiful, high set house floated into view set amongst a backdrop of tall eucalypt trees, all in stunning high-definition detail. I described it and said, ‘You’re thinking about the trees around your house.’ – “Yes I am.’ The view faded and a breakfast counter floated into view, I saw a bowl of muesli, a cup of black coffee and a glass of orange juice. I said, ‘You’re thinking about what you had for breakfast this morning.’ – ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Another image appeared and I saw her swimming naked in a pool. ‘You’re doing laps in a pool behind your house and you’re naked.’ – ‘Err, you saw that?’ – ‘You thought it.’ – ‘I did.’ I had a sneaking suspicion she was playing mind games now and trying to see how far I’d go. A scene appeared and I couldn’t believe it at first. Elga, naked on a bed having an extremely vigorous round of intercourse. It fast forwarded and she changed position three times. I took my hand away and sat down. She smiled, daring me to say something. I told her what I saw and she started to turn a little red. ‘Well, yes I had sex with my husband this morning. How much did you see?’ – ‘You’re very athletic.’ I saw her in town one day a few months later, she stopped and said, ‘Oh, it’s you, hi.’ Then she took off, that was 20 years ago. I haven’t seen her since.
I must add that I don’t go around checking out people’s minds or thoughts. The human mind at play is a nasty place at times. There are a lot of things happening in there and unless invited or considering my safety I keep well away. Besides a person’s intentions can usually be seen in their eyes and other facial expressions. Other times their persona cracks and their true personality breaks through. I mentioned a couple of posts ago about working for the Air Force as a civilian guard. My duties involved issuing security passes for entry onto the base. This could be a busy task, especially when up to twenty people turned up at once. We had two windows operating this day to move the backlog. The visitor would hand their credentials and any paperwork through the window, they would be checked and a pass would be issued. I sat at the spare window and anyone to my right was blocked from view by a public telephone booth. I felt the familiar pulling feeling at my mind, as if someone were tugging at my grey matter. A sense of blackness followed and I felt as if I were being drawn into a sewer of vile, sickening, cloying feelings of lust, debauchery and pain. I finished writing the pass out for the person in front of me and held out my hand for the next set of credentials. I only saw an arm at first, he stood with the booth hiding his face. I took his license and looked at the name. I recognised it, he’d been tried and convicted for the murder of a baby girl in Ipswich in 1973. Freed on appeal and then charged later for perjury. You can read all about it via the blue link. I found it difficult to interact with him, he may have been able to appear normal but his true persona leaked out everywhere.
Next week: ‘Cross my palm with silver,’ Psychometry.