Brandon Bays - The Journey - A Practical Guide to Healing Your life and Setting Yourself Free

As Don and I leisurely strolled the quiet, picturesque streets of Quebec, I felt a heightened awareness—my senses seemed so alive and acute. The trees appeared somehow more vibrant, and the smells from the street cafés so varied and full. The cobblestones were rounded from years of people and carriages and cars, and the clouds seemed to stand out vividly against the crisp blue sky. I felt so blessed just to be able to look and smell and feel—even the biting wind seemed somehow rare. It was almost as if my soul itself was tasting life as it really is.

A hush fell over me. Once again time seemed to stop. I found myself resting in a sharp stillness that was somehow both utterly unmoving and scintillatingly alive. The awareness that I was being “guided” arose strongly from within. Outwardly I must have appeared pensive and quiet, but inwardly I was near tears with gratitude for this knowing revealing itself so powerfully.

I looked back at Don; I didn’t know how long I had been standing there, but I noticed he seemed unusually quiet. When I probed deeper, Don admitted that he didn’t want to share his feelings with me as he knew it was essential for me to be with people who would support me positively with the certainty that I would heal, yet he had to admit that he was scared.

“It just seems so big . . .”

Long pause . . .

Quietly I answered, “It is big.”

I didn’t know what else to say. He’d stated the obvious, but somehow the obvious seemed at once incomprehensible and yet so stupidly apparent.

Another long pause . . .

Then I said, “I sometimes get scared, too. And I have to remind myself to be open and trust at those times. No use fighting it. I wish I could somehow explain to you this quiet certainty that keeps coming up from inside, but somehow no matter how worried my mind and personality seem to get at times, something deeper—from within—seems to know different. And this knowing is what is carrying me through this extraordinary journey. So, let’s just enjoy our time here, it’s such a romantic city.” We slipped into a café, and I encouraged him to enjoy the lovely French cuisine, even though I was only eating salad. Reluctantly, he agreed.

Day by day the peace deepened, and after three or four days in Quebec I knew it was time to move on. To what, I still didn’t know, but something inside seemed to be urging me onward.

Chapter 5

From Quebec I decided to give our friends Mark and Elaine Thomas a ring. They were living in a spiritually based community in upstate New York, and I figured I could visit them, have some good bodywork done, and get their advice on what to do next. It was with Mark and Elaine that Don and I had undergone much of our training in natural hygiene, iridology, acupressure, herbal healing, and so on, as well as a process called body electronics. Mark and Elaine had seen us both through a time of great spiritual and emotional transformation in our lives, and even though it was years later and we’d moved on to different aspects of mind-body healing, somehow they seemed to be the right people to be around. I knew they’d be supportive.

When we arrived, Elaine offered us all a cup of herbal tea, and said in her forthright and intuitive style, “So what’s up? Something’s going on!”

“Well, I’ve been diagnosed with . . .”—I laid the whole story out, including the physical things I was doing, and finished by saying, “So I’m letting myself be guided.”

Shrugging, she said, “Brandon, I don’t even see this as an issue. You’re going to get this handled . . . no problem . . . it’ll be a breeze. . . . I just know it. . . . Really, I mean it, Brandon.” And I knew she did.

Once again someone was hearing the news for the first time and using the exact words Tony did—“No problem, you’ll get it handled.” It was beginning to feel like the people around me were a mirror of that same inner knowing that was arising in me! The outer confirmation of what I felt inwardly to be true was somehow very reassuring.

I did manage to get some good massage bodywork while I was there, and also found a herbalist who suggested several herbs to aid in the cleansing process. As I prepared to leave, the massage therapist handed me a small slip of paper with a phone number. “I did some research for you and found a good cranial-visceral massage therapist in Santa Monica. That’s not far from Malibu, is it?”

“No, just down the road,” I replied. “Thanks, that was very kind of you.”

“Not to worry, Brandon—I really see this thing leaving you easily. You’ll get it handled.”

There it was again—third time! This time my hair stood on end. It really was beginning to feel as if the universe was trying to tell me something. If I ever believed in such a thing as a sign, then I was getting signs from all over the place, and they were all pointing to the same thing—YOU’LL GET IT HANDLED!

Holding the slip of paper, I thought, “Hmm, maybe this guy is one of the bread crumbs, the signposts along my path. I’ll give him a ring as soon as I get back to Malibu.”

Chapter 6

On my way home from the airport, holding the slip of paper in my hand, I felt an unexpected anticipation building. I could barely wait to see where this new signpost would take me next.

With a spring in my step I bounded through my front door in Malibu, reached for the phone, dialed the number on the slip of paper, and got the massage therapist’s secretary. She apologized profusely, but he didn’t have a single opening for one month. Did I want to schedule for then?

A month? I didn’t have a month! I had less than three weeks left.

I felt as if someone had stuck a pin in my balloon. How could it be that he couldn’t see me? I was just so sure he was part of my journey—one of my signposts. So far everything had flowed so perfectly, so gracefully—as if I was somehow in “the zone” that so many athletes speak of. This couldn’t be right. I asked her if she was absolutely certain.

“Yes, I’m sorry—he’s completely booked.”

Deflated, I put the phone down, still somehow unconvinced. Two minutes later I redialed—“Could I at least speak to him?”

“He’s with a client.”

“Well, could you pass on my message?”

“I’ll let him know you called.”

That night at 10:45 I received a phone call beginning with a flurry of apologies for calling so late. “My name is Benjamin—I’m the cranial-visceral massage therapist you phoned.”

We talked until 11:00 P.M., and he said, “Listen, if you don’t mind coming at 7:00 A.M. I’ll fit you in for as many sessions as I can between now and your time to go back for tests. Can you make it that early?”

“I can’t afford not to. I’ll be there at 6:45.”

Though early mornings have never been my best times, I was thrilled to be actively working toward physically healing myself, and glad that things once more seemed back “in the flow” and on track.

At the end of the first session, Benjamin turned to me as I reached for my coat, and said, “You know, I don’t get the feeling that this is really going to be a problem for you; I almost get the feeling it’s already healing itself. I know it sounds crazy, because your examination is less than three weeks away, but I get the feeling you are going to get this thing handled!”

I practically repeated it out loud with him! What was this, a mantra? I shook my head, smiled, and waved goodbye—“See you tomorrow.”

Benjamin had given me the name of a very good colon therapist. I promptly followed this up, and got an immediate appointment. During our colonic session she felt around my belly and said, “You know, I get the feeling this is going to move out very quickly, but there’s some old emotional stuff stored in there that you need to let go of.”