The guru then made the following announcement, quoting the feminine deity: Moor Jani:
We all have the capacity to heal ourselves as well as facilitate the healing of others. When we get in touch with that infinite place within us where we are Whole, then illness can’t remain in the body. And because we’re all connected, there’s no reason why one person’s state of wellness can’t touch others. Elevating them and triggering their recovery. And when we heal others, we also heal ourselves and our planet.
There is no separation except in our own minds.
Healing is one of the topics for my newest project, a re-telling of the life of Jesus when he was a carpenters’ apprentice at age 20 in the Land of Palestine. I wrote it in less than thirty days as part of a challenge by NaNoWriMo (the National Novel Writing Month) to complete a novel during the month of November. I completed it today, November 30th, 2014.
The quote above is taken from a book by Anita Moorjani, from whom I just sent an e-mail telling how I used her words to explain the healing process that she described in “Dying To Be Me.” I thought it was appropriate to quote what I imagined a Hindu deity would say about healing. I named the deity Moor Jani. It is spoken by a Buddhist lama named Lobsang who has taught the young man from Nazareth the secrets of healing through the Reiki process. (I hope to all that is holy that she’ll grant me the permission to use her words)
I enjoyed writing this work of fiction.
It may take a while before I can edit it for a full viewing. I would love to send excerpts to anyone willing to offer a critique of the writing. Simply address me here at this site. Your e-mail will appear in my G-Mail Account so there would be no breach of confidentiality. (You can even create a fictitious name to use, but please, do not use Donald Duck unless you’re prepared to quack about it.)
Here’s another taste of the manuscript. It’s from the Oracle of Delphi where Jesus and his Greek side-kick, the former slave Michael, have just gotten a prophecy delivered.
Michael stood with eyes wide open as the oracle looked him in the eyes. He blinked and had difficulty in keeping eye contact with her. She spoke two words that seemed to blend together. “Conto . . . Veros,” the young and beautiful woman continued. “You will speak the truth. You will be called the “Singer of Truth.
“Write well or don’t write at all.”
Conto-Veros. The words rang in his mind as Michael felt a chill and then a warmth overtake his very being. He rolled the words around in his mouth, trying to savor the feel of them. “Con . . . to . . . Ver . . . os,” he whispered to himself, slowly pronouncing each of the four syllables. He liked the sound of it. He liked the feel of it.
But what about “writing well” or “not writing at all”? What could that mean? Only time would tell and that was not to be revealed until many years later.