You Are More Powerful Than You Remember

On my recent pilgrimage to Bhutan—a small Buddhist country on the eastern edge of the Himalayas—on the third day of our seventeen-day journey, I was called to rise into my highest self in an urgent and pressing way. There was no time to vacillate: I had to answer either yes or no, in a single moment, to an unexpected request that would require that I access my deepest power and trust in myself. Although a large part of me was terrified and couldn’t believe what was being asked of me, my Spirit unequivocally said yes.

A prominent spiritual teacher at a temple in the mountains, greatly respected for his high level teachings and deep wisdom, heard that I was an acupuncturist and healer. He was in a crisis and needed help, his normally radiant energy appeared drained, his luminous complexion pale. I observed this as I received his teachings, cross-legged on the temple floor, and as he walked the temple grounds between practice sessions. I knew that something was weighing heavily on him, as if a large force were oppressing his spirit. In a fleeting vision that morning, I saw that he would come to me and ask for help.

At the end of a long day of travel, on my way to my room after a late dinner, I found myself face to face with him. “I would very much like a treatment with you,” he said.  He spoke deliberately, his words slowed by fatigue. I admired this man enormously. He was my powerful, infinitely wise, enlightened teacher, and he was asking me for a treatment?? My heartbeat quickened. Disbelief ran through my body.

“Of course,” I said. I wondered if he heard the surprise in my voice. I agreed to meet him in his room later that evening. His room number? 111. I could not believe it! Repeating 1s are one of my most prominent guiding signs, an indication that: I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I’m fully supported. I’m in the presence of the Divine.

My spiritual sister Laurel was by my side during this interaction. “Holy shit,” I whispered as he walked away. “I’m going to give him a treatment?” My mind was blown. It was nearly impossible to believe that someone at his level of cultivation would come to me for help. A wave of panic moved through my body. Could I really do this? Laurel looked deeply into my eyes, her voice direct and unwavering. “Yes. You can do this. You are so powerful. You don’t even know how powerful you are.”

We stepped out into the cold black night, the steep trail slick with rain. We had just enough time to go back to our shared room to get my healing supplies—a small bag with acupuncture needles, lancets, cotton pads, an essential oil blend to nourish the liver and heart, a strikingly clear quartz crystal.

Laurel began to boil water in our small kettle. Once ready, she poured the hot water into a porcelain cup, along with several drops of Echinacea extract. “This will help your energy.” We had been up since 5am, and after a long day of travel, I was exhausted. I sipped the hot water, slightly floral and sweet in flavor, and instantly felt clearer and more energized.

She handed me my rose quartz mala. “Here, put this on,” she instructed me. “This will calm your heart. This is going to help you with the treatment.” In the midst of my nervous anticipation, she was taking deep care of me; fully present and supportive; empowering my highest self.

She looked at the clock; it was ten minutes to nine. “It’s time to go. I’ll walk you to his room.”

I immediately felt more present and alive in the cold night air. We climbed the steep trail, lighting the way with our phone flashlights. When we reached the lobby, Laurel positioned herself by a large wood burning stove. “I’ll wait here for you,” she said. I was so grateful for her support. I ascended a winding staircase, my legs heavy with fatigue, and located his room at the end of a long hallway.

I paused outside his door and took five deep breaths. I called in my guides—my 88th generation Taoist priest acupuncture teacher Jeffrey Yuen, the masters within our lineage, my beloved Aunt Kathy who had recently transitioned to Spirit, always a well of support. I asked them to be present with me, to help me work at the highest level possible. And then I thought to myself: This is who I am in this moment. This is what I know. It has to be enough.

I removed my shoes and knocked softly on the heavy wooden door. He answered and welcomed me in. His room was simple but beautiful with white walls and a continuous row of large windows opposite the door that overlooked a valley. A beautiful scrolled painting hung above his bed; a thick and colorful Tibetan rug was placed at its foot.

His demeanor was warm and inviting. I set up my supplies on a narrow console, and then suggested that we sit on the sofa by the windows so I could take his pulse.

His skin felt soft under my fingertips. When I pressed into the depth of his pulse, I felt as though I had entered another realm. Information came through in the form of feelings. As I had suspected, something was weighing heavily on his Spirit causing major distress to his heart. An old trauma had resurfaced in a powerful way. I was psychically seeing more than he was sharing with me. I checked in with myself, as I always do before sharing information that comes to me intuitively: I silently asked if it was in his highest interest to receive this information in this moment. I got a clear yes.

This all happened in a matter of minutes—quietly listening to his body and Spirit, receiving and interpreting information from a higher realm, determining whether or not to share it and what language to use. For a fleeting moment, I questioned myself: Who am I to deliver insights like these to him? I am his student, what if I offend him? What if I am wrong?

I took a deep breath. Energy started to move throughout my body in a powerful wave. This was my power. This was my wisdom linked by countless lifetimes to the present moment. With a spark of clarity, I heard: He asked you to come here to help him. He trusts you. You must believe in yourself. It is an expression of your highest potential to deliver this information. This is what you must do. 

I summoned the courage to ask if I could share what I was seeing with him. He nodded yes. I described my insights, the confidence in my voice deepening as I spoke. I could feel the truth of my words as they entered the sacred space we sat in. He acknowledged that what I shared was accurate, and then described in great detail a traumatic experience from many years ago that had resurfaced. I felt as if we traveled through time together to that fateful day, the feelings were so present, the scene palpable. Memories of the incident were emerging in his dreams, causing sleepless nights. I knew exactly how to help him.

I guided him to lie on the edge of his bed and partially covered him with a thick down comforter. I carefully placed the needles, describing the meaning and intention of each point as I went. There is something deeply intimate and sacred in treating someone from their bedside. I was reminded of the times I had treated others in this manner—my mother, my beloved spiritual sister Rowan during a health crisis, my best friend’s mother Debbie as she transitioned toward death in a hospital room in Houston, Texas—all powerful moments of trust and surrender.

I returned to the sofa by the windows and sat with my eyes softly closed, my palms facing upward in my lap, a gentle flow of energy circulating through them. I envisioned the highest healing possible for him and felt a vast expanse of energy open into the room. I quietly waited.

“That was very powerful,” he said when I returned to remove the needles. “I began to see things and make connections.” I felt the shift I had intended when I checked his pulse. I applied a blend of Rosalina and Chamomile essential oils to points on his wrists and feet to help support the treatment. “These oils will continue to settle your Spirit and help you sleep deeply tonight.”

I heated a kettle of water to prepare a hot water bottle for him, and to mix with a Tibetan herbal formula that he was taking, my actions filled with pure intention. He asked about my life in New York, my training, and my Taoist priest acupuncture teacher Jeffrey as he sipped his herbs. “I think you two would like each other. I hope you get to meet one day,” I shared.

I closed the blinds to ensure that the morning light would not disturb his sleep. He bowed his head slightly, hands in prayer at his heart, his gaze remaining constant with mine. “Thank you.” I returned the gesture. “It was my honor. Thank you.”

I left his room knowing I would wake with the sun’s rise over the Himalayas, fully aware that my life was a miracle.