Urban shaman – miracle worker

In Metaphysics, Philosophy and Traditional Wisdom by Raym RichardsLeave a Comment

I am taking a breath of fresh air in the quiet and breezy street outside my crystal shop, waiting for my next client. My assistant Bryony had taken the call and booked Shelley in. I have not yet met her. Bryony joins me on the pavement, resplendent in her blonde dreads and glad-rags. I wonder how my two assistants always manage to look like they are about to have a great night out.

“Sounds like you’ll have your hands full with this one”, she says grinning, “if she’s not too attached to her pain.”

Then I see the person who must be Shelley approaching. I know as she walks towards my shop that I am up for a long and interesting session. The woman approaching is in early middle age, a woman who should be in her prime and full of beans. Instead she leans on her walking stick, shuffling down the street towards me like an ancient and totally decrepit bag-lady. I know from my briefing with Bryony that she totters along like this because she is in constant and unrelenting pain.

I see clearly by the way she holds herself that there are four key points in her energy field that are causing her extreme pain. I admire her stoicism – a meeker soul would resort to pain killers, but not this one.

Byrony has told me some of Shelley’s story. Believing that the source of these pains is not physical and will therefore not respond to conventional medicine, she has tried many alternative therapies to get to the bottom of the issue, with little success. She is at her wits’ end and so now has turned to me, her last resort, the twenty-first century shaman.

Bryony disappears into the shop, leaving me to greet my client who hands me her walking stick as we slowly climb the stairs to my session room. “Do you really think you can help me?”

I pause – I am mindful not to give desperate people false hope, “My aim is to take you to the source, to discover the moment where it all started. That way I can help you understand why it’s happening. After that it’s up to you.”

“So you don’t think it’s physical?”

“Well, I bet it certainly feels that way to you right now, but you know that it isn’t. That’s why you came to see me, isn’t it?” She looks relieved and I can feel she may be about to cry.

She gasps at the beauty of the complex mandala of crystals laid on the floor around the futon we will occupy for the next few hours. I try to display the stones at their best. I like to honour the beautiful crystals that are my allies.

“I feel light-headed”, she says swaying over the crystals.

“That’s normal – they have already started the process.” I help her lie down and quickly take my place next to her. I love ceremony, and have become a master of it, but for this client there is no time. The space is already cleared, primed and ready to go. I make a brief invocation and suggest she close her eyes.

Floating above her body we scan it together and she sees exactly what I saw when we met. She holds four major traumas, each where her pain is most intense. I ask her what she sees; she telepaths me as we work our way down her body.

I see a deep wound in my shoulder and it is bleeding. I see a golden chalice floating in front of my chest. I see flames around my middle and I am pinned to the floor by something very heavy across my knees.

Is that all?

Isn’t that enough?

Okay. Let’s start at the top and work down. Say out loud after me, ‘Body, I command you, release the cellular memory I am holding in my shoulder. Release it into full consciousness. Now.”

Immediately we are in the thick of a bloody and chaotic battle some time in the distant past. She is in the body of a big strapping Native American who is dealing out death and destruction with a large tomahawk. I wouldn’t say he enjoyed what he was doing, but this bloke can certainly handle himself. He is a proud and fearless young warrior. It is hot, sweaty, breathless and dirty work but he is doing well and he has the upper hand. I can see the battle is going in his tribe’s favour and it will be over soon. I have witnessed many skirmishes like this, but the ferocity of these life-or-death struggles always takes my breath away. Ancient warfare was fast, messy, vicious and very personal.

Shelley is so into the experience of being the warrior that she does not see what is about to happen. In the subsiding melee, an older, more muscular man, of the same clan, works his way towards Shelley. In a moment when everyone’s focus is elsewhere he plunges a long knife deep into the young warrior’s back, on the left side, aiming for his heart. He twists it with a warped grin as he pushes the beautiful bone dagger home. The young man is taken completely by surprise thinking his back was covered by the man who has just stabbed him. We understand the thought forms that come with the ancient language.

You will never take my position. I am the lead warrior here and I will be for a long time. Now die, upstart!

Shelley is in utter shock and disbelief. The young man that she was is speechless as his heart falters and his breath comes in gasps. He just looks wide-eyed at the older man, his face like a kabuki mask, a mixture of horror, confusion and deep, deep sadness.

I catch her attention as she leaves his body. She is surprisingly coherent.

Oh man, that was such a mean thing to do. I had a lovely wife and baby. I had lots going for me, and boy was I strong. That mean, selfish old bastard.

Okay, stay calm.

This back left shoulder is exactly where the pain is, but it’s still there. What do we do now?

You need to forgive him.

Say what?

You are tied to the trauma through the feelings you experienced then. They are locked into your cellular memory. They have travelled across time and space and are still with you now. They will stay in your body as pain, or even disease, unless you release them by forgiving the old man.


Are you up for it?

Well, if it stops this pain, then yes I am.

We call on the old warrior and ask him to stand before us. When he is there, I suggest the following affirmation, which she speaks out loud.

Across time and space, of my own free will, in full consciousness, as the Universe is my witness, I freely forgive you. I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you. In forgiving you I release you, as I release myself from this trauma, to find joy, peace and freedom. Go in peace.

The old native American murderer is relieved and grateful that he has finally been forgiven, as it becomes clear to Shelley that he was tied to the trauma too.

Unbelievable. I can feel the pain just easing away. What’s next?

Keep scanning your body. What did you notice next?

Oh yes, that lovely gold chalice – what’s that all about? It looks like a gift.

I know better, but I will let her discover this one for herself. I suggest she speaks out loud.

Body, I command you, release the cellular memory I am holding in my chest. Release it into full consciousness, now!

Immediately she is in the body of a mature and elegant woman of high status. We could be in the time of King Arthur. It looks almost mythical. Her headgear and the long dress she wears are beautifully made. We both take a moment to admire the intricate embroidery on her gown. Her surroundings are Spartan in some ways, being of stone, but they are also spotlessly clean and the furniture looks comfortable.

She is lounging on a day bed and it is dusk. A young woman enters; she is dressed in a simpler gown, and is very respectful towards Shelley.

“My Lady, I have brought you a glass of wine before supper, if it pleases you.”

“Thank you. So thoughtful, my child. Of all the neophytes I have taught, you take most care – you are my best pupil, my finest achievement. You know you just might find yourself being put forward to take my place as high priestess, one day.”

She smiles and the young girl blushes and bows her head. However I see her look up intently as Shelley brings the golden chalice to her lips. Every muscle in the neophyte’s body relaxes as the high priestess takes a deep draught of the sweet red wine. The young woman smiles, but her smile lacks warmth.

“I am ready now, to take the role of high priestess in this order.” She looks down on Shelley, her whole demeanour changing.

Shelley laughs, “Oh my child you must learn patience. Haven’t I taugh…”

“Tongue feeling heavy?” An inhuman sound comes from Shelley’s slobbering mouth as she tries to speak.

“It is time for fresh blood in this order now. It is rancid with your fetid, outdated rituals and ceremonies. I have direct access to the Goddess and she works through me. Your time is finished.”

The pain of betrayal in Shelley’s eyes speaks volumes.

“The poison I have prepared is painless, in thanks for your teaching. The paralysis is spreading through your body, from your mouth to your lungs and heart. You will be asleep soon and will never wake up.”

The neophyte walks close to the now wide-eyed and panicked high priestess. She lifts up her heavy limbs and rests them in repose, as if the high priestess was having a nap. “This is how they will find you tomorrow, passed peacefully in your sleep. Thank you for telling others that you saw me as your successor – it has made things so much easier for me.”

“I will be sure nobody disturbs your nap”, she smiles and kisses the priestess’s forehead. “It’s all for the best.”

I am ready when Shelley leaves her body. She is a quick learner and is looking for me. She is breathless.

The bitch! What an absolute fu…

No need for that. I interrupt.

What part of your body are you feeling it in?

My heart. Oh dear me, yes. That really hurts.

She does not take too much persuading to go through the forgiveness process we have just applied to her Native American killer. Her pain clears immediately.

What’s the next thing you noticed?

There is a weight on my stomach or my back.

Commanding her body to release the cellular memory it holds, Shelley finds herself on a beach. This time she is a gentleman sailor, a military man and an officer, in tight breeches and an open shirt. He lies relaxing in a warm climate with a young islander boy’s head on his chest.

The sailor runs his fingers through the boy’s hair; they are obviously lovers, but as he talks we realise he is gently interrogating the boy, teasing information from him. The sailor has misled the boy into thinking that he loves him, so the boy will tell him all he needs to know. Once he has what he needs he cruelly discards the boy, mocking and humiliating him. The boy is totally devastated and runs back to his village. That evening the boy’s extended family visit the sailor and club him to death for the insult to their family’s honour. I wait for Shelley as she leaves his body and again she is coherent.

Well, that sleaze-bag deserved everything he got.

Where are you feeling the pain?

My back – they broke it.

Shelley begs forgiveness from the boy and his family. It is easily given.

One last trauma left, and the four traumas I saw will be clear. We command she release the memory held in the weight that is pressing on her knees.

Oh, this is nice!

I catch her thought forms as she steps into the body of a plump and happy woman in beautiful, sumptuous, colourful clothing. It feels like we are on an island in a warm climate. This woman just loves her family and entertaining – she is having a ball. People come and go. There is happiness, good food and laughter. It’s hard to imagine what could spoil such a perfect day. Then without warning it starts, a terrible rumbling, and it is over just as quickly.

A huge earthquake shakes the structures around them to pieces. Her little boy runs screaming from the building and she heads after him, but she does not get out. A heavy beam falls on her and pins her down as the building disintegrates around her, almost smothering her with rubble – but it does not kill her. She stays alive and conscious for days, pining for her son, wondering when people will come for her. She shouts till she is hoarse and dehydrated, and then, after a couple of days, the rats come. They nibble away, eating her living flesh, and she is helpless to stop them. She dies screaming for the rats to stop, calling for her husband and son who never came because they, too, are dead. I catch her as she leaves her body still screaming.

Oh that was awful. Poor woman, what a terrible way to die. They were all so happy. It’s so sad. She starts sobbing.

Where do you feel the pain?

My knees, for sure. They were shattered.

To release the pain we go through a process of forgiving the people who did not come to her aid and ask her lovely boy to forgive her for not saving him. We also forgive the rats. As we do so the pain subsides, dissolving completely as the last trauma she is holding in her present physical body gently fades away. I return Shelley to this here and now and, after cleansing and protection exercises, she opens her eyes.

“How about that!”, Shelley breathes, blinking and stretching.

“How’s your body feeling?”

“Sensational!” She stands and for the first time in many years realises she is totally pain-free.

I follow her as she glides effortlessly down the stairs and through the shop, hugging Bryony, who smiles after her as she literally skips off down the street. I join Bryony with Shelley’s now redundant walking stick in my hand. Bryony turns to me with a twinkle in her eye, “So miracles do happen then?”

“I am just waiting for someone to declare me a saint.”

“Could be a long wait, ‘cos nobody’s going to be sharing that story with anyone real soon. Cup of tea?”


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About the author
Raym Richards

Raym Richards

Raym is a shaman and teacher of teachers. He teaches his Crystal Dreaming™ technique worldwide and takes annual tours of sacred sites in the UK. More real life stories in his book Spirit World. Raym’s shamanic healing technique Crystal Dreaming™ involves clients accessing a safely expanded sate of consciousness by laying in a mandala of crystals. In this state present life challenges are tracked to their source in other times, places and realities. Their resolution has immediate effect on this here and now. Visit CrystalDreaming.com

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