It’s not a secret. It tells you what it wants and what it needs and what makes it happy. It also carries thousands of years of recorded history (stored in your DNA). And you have access to all of it…if you let yourself listen.
That was a huge epiphany for this girl who once thought about going to medical school. Back then my idea of listening to the body required a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff. My idea of healing was take your vitamins or prescribe a pill. And if something wasn’t working right, cut it out (literally), and threaten to do the same to any other body part that didn’t fall into line.
From the start of junior high school, I was groomed to go to medical school and become a doctor. All of my “elective” classes centered around math and science. When the day came to go to college things didn’t come together as planned. My life took a sudden detour. I studied International Business instead of medicine and married a military man. We traveled the world and raised a family.
Life was good until the day we were sitting in front of a doctor who told us, ”Get your affairs in order,” because our child would not survive the diagnosis he had just given us.
The doctor knew medicine, but there were many things about this child– and us–the doctor didn’t know. The doctor didn’t know that this child was an answer to many prayers. The doctor didn’t know we had prayed and wished for this child after a miscarriage and other fertility issues. The doctor didn’t know we had wept for joy when we found out this child would soon be joining our family. The doctor didn’t know what our hearts knew about this child.
The doctor didn’t leave us with any hope but we knew in our hearts this child was not born for this ending. We knew in our hearts this child had a special purpose yet to be lived. Despite the doctor’s words, we knew in our hearts there was another answer. And because we had this knowing, we refused to receive the doctor’s words as the final (fatal) pronouncement on our child’s life.
That was the day I started giving myself a medical school education. And because I didn’t like the answers I was getting about my child’s diagnosis, I went looking for “alternative” medicine. At that time I didn’t know if there was such a thing. I only hoped there was.
I felt there was an answer to our situation, I just needed to find it.
During the next several weeks, guided only by a “still small inner voice”, my children and I lived in the darkest, dustiest places of our central library. Scouring the shelves, hoping to find “ancient wisdom” long forgotten. Ironically, the answer found me in an unexpected way. We routinely attended church twice on Sunday and again on Wednesday evenings. The children and I went to the Sunday gathering as usual, expecting a shared dinner and a bible study. Unbeknownst to me, we had a guest speaker: a retired pastor from Tennessee. He shared his story of being healed from colon cancer by changing his diet, an idea he had gotten from another pastor who had done the same some 50 years before. The speaker was now a missionary of sorts, spreading the good news that you don’t have to live sick and tired. It sounded a little crazy but I knew I had heard the truth that night. And all those science classes from my youth–I could now “see” how all the pieces fit together. From that point on, my inner voice was no longer small nor still. I promised myself I would share all the information I could find with all the medical ears that would listen.
I was very enthusiastic about sharing my discoveries with my child’s medical team. I invested hours and hours and a fair amount of money researching and making copies. Most of the mountains of paper I delivered to the doctors (in the days before home computers and the internet) went straight into the trash. They weren’t really interested in hearing what this desperate mom had dug out of the caverns of my local library. Nor did they have an abundance of leisure time to go through it all.
I made such a pill of myself that, at one point, we were threatened to conform to conventional medical practices or have our children taken away. A compromise of sorts was made which required my child to be tested on a monthly basis. Not a fun thing for a six year old. They felt that the interventions we had adopted at home (vegan diet and juicing) bordered on neglect. The testing would be used as proof against me if I was wrong.
He didn’t show any personal interest in what we had done those three years. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Whatever it is, it’s working.” We were released from the monthly testing and allowed to carry on with our lives. It felt good to finally be acknowledged and (kind of) heard.
It’s a blessing to still be living and dealing with that diagnosis today because the doctors said it would be over in 5-10 years.
I think back to how different things would have turned out had we accepted the diagnosis and not taken sovereignty over the life of our child. How different things would be today if we hadn’t listened to “the still small voice” telling us there was another answer out there. It’s now 25 years since the doctor told us to get our affairs in order. Twenty five years ago I was angry and offended. Today, I am grateful. Because that’s exactly what we did.
Deborah Padilla will co-lead the Soulpreneurs Mastermind course at Findhorn in June, 2017.