The Eagle and the Rose Read online

  Of course we offered her a drink, which she accepted, and for the next two hours she stayed and talked.

  Her name was Rebecca, and she and her family, two daughters and a son, owned and rented out property and also owned a vineyard and a travel company, which they ran together as a family.

  Rebecca was a rather forceful and forthright lady, but I liked her from the first. As soon as she discovered that I was a medium, she was immediately interested, and pretty soon we were telling her all about our meeting with John and Maria Mikaledes. At first she found it difficult to believe that there was such a man in her own country, and virtually on her own doorstep, whom she hadn't heard of. Then she began asking all sorts of questions about him.

  “Don't think that I am being nosy, please,” she said. “There is a very good reason for my curiosity. You see, my youngest daughter has a problem with her spine. It has begun to curve quite badly, and the specialist is afraid that she may, in time, become crippled.

  “I wonder,” she continued, “if it would be worth her while going to see this man.” And she asked, “Do you think it would do any good?”

  “It can't hurt to try,” I said, “but it has to be your daughter's decision. Why don't you ask her and see what she says?”

  The next morning early, the phone rang. It was Rebecca, asking if we would like to join her and her family for breakfast.

  “I've had a word with my daughter,” she said, “and she can't wait to meet you all. She is also very keen to meet your healer friend, and to try some healing.”

  We agreed to take her the next day to see him, and although we didn't have as unusual a reception as we'd had on our first visit, John and Maria were at home, and they were delighted to see us again.

  I introduced Rebecca and her daughter and explained the reason for our visit.

  John took over immediately. Reaching out for the young girl's hand, he invited her into the house.

  Now it was my turn to be shown, with my family, around the garden of John and Maria's small house.

  I knew that John would be giving healing, and I prayed silently that he would be able to help.

  Twice more we visited John and Maria before we came back to England, and each time we took Rebecca's daughter with us for healing. It was amazing how well she responded to John and how receptive she was to the healing he gave her.

  Good healers are not easy to find, but my friend and mentor, Grey Eagle, had indeed been instrumental in guiding me to one who was a rare and special breed. A man of uncommon humility, devotion to spirit, and willingness to give to others, without favor, his love.

  The following Christmas we received a card and a letter from John and Maria Mikaledes.

  Rebecca's daughter, they said, was still coming for healing and improving slowly. Rebecca had also been given healing regularly, and so had the rest of the family.

  But the most remarkable thing was that, due initially to Rebecca, the word about John had spread, and many more people had begun to seek healing.

  Maria wrote: “John and I have been simply amazed at the response we have had, and whether he likes it or not, he has his hands full. Every day new people come to us wanting healing, and, of course, he never refuses.”

  So now, once again, John Mikaledes is a full-time healer.

  This experience, and many others, has taught me that there is no such thing as coincidence, that our often “chance” meetings are planned. Planned by a greater, a universal force, which we here on earth have so little knowledge of.

  The ways and workings of the universe are, indeed, wondrous!

  Rosemary the Healer

  John Mikaledes was a fine healer. He had decided to go into this work knowing that it was what he wanted to do.

  But it was never my intention to become a healer. For one thing, after my own experiences with doctors, hospitals, and sickness, having had kidney problems in my early twenties, becoming involved with that constant round of pain, despair, and fear was the last thing I wanted to do. Second, I really felt that I did not have what it takes to give healing in the way that I saw Paul Denham and Mick McGuire do. These two men were dedicated, strong, and able to deal with people's needs in a way that I felt in the beginning unable to do. Other people's illnesses reminded me of my own vulnerability, my own weaknesses, and of course my own fear, and I was not ready to be reminded in any way of my human frailties. Let that knowledge sit somewhere in the deep recesses of my subconscious mind. I was happier that way … much happier.

  In the beginning, the responsibilities of a healer were something I felt unable to deal with, but Grey Eagle was with me, and as my confidence grew I learned gradually to accept my role as a healer as well as that of a medium.

  I discovered that healing, the gift of healing, was not a separate thing, but an extension of my mediumship, and my guide encouraged me and carefully steered me as he taught me to discover and use the energy, healing energy, I had been born with.

  I had watched Mick McGuire often with his patients, had seen the way they had looked at him, looked to him, for strength and for hope. He always knew instinctively the right things to say, the right way to handle any given situation. He would usually begin by placing his hands on the patient's head or shoulders, tuning in to that great source of healing energy, God energy, which is of the universe. Drawing it to him, combining it with his own energy, he would then endeavor by sheer will to direct that energy toward his patient.

  I once saw him with a young woman, a patient of his who was severely crippled with multiple sclerosis. Not only was she struggling with this dreadful and debilitating disease, but she also had the added stress of coping with the fact that her husband had just left her for another woman. Mick was wonderful with her. He promised no miracle cures, no magic wand, no knight in shining armor come to save her. He had listened to her story, and when she had finished he'd held out his arms to her and given her comfort in the knowledge that someone cared, that he cared. When she was calmer and the tears had subsided, he talked to her about his gift, the gift of healing, of the laying on of hands as Christ had once done. Then, quietly and gently, and with no fanfare, no hocus-pocus, he proceeded to give her healing.

  As I watched, I saw her visibly relax. Slowly, as she unwound, I was aware of a letting go, subtle as it was, and I knew that she was releasing a little of the hurt, of the loneliness and the fear. Of course this would be a slow process, it would take several sessions with Mick before she would feel totally at ease, I knew that, but I also knew that I was witness to the beginning of that process. I was witness to that feeling in her of safety and trust for a man who held her hand and gave his love in a way no one had given to her before.

  There are many who would suppose that to give healing is to attempt to cure a physical ailment, which of course it is. But first and foremost, healing is given to the spirit of the patient, the spirit self, which is the light of the soul. We try to give energy and power to feed that light to make it brighter.

  Mick gave his energy. He gave his love, and when I talk of love in this way, I talk of the love that God inspires, that God force that is deep within us, which some recognize and grow from. Many races, many creeds, will have a different name for it, but call it God or Allah or any other name, it does not make a difference. What we are talking of here is that universal force, that great power that is goodness and that, if used wisely, will bring about peace, harmony, and that word again … love.

  As I progressed with my work, my mediumship, I began giving spiritual self-awareness classes every Friday evening. More and more people were coming to me wanting to learn about the psychic world, and I felt that perhaps I could help in this way, maybe teach them to grow in their understanding of themselves and of their spiritual selves, of the light within them.

  Grey Eagle was with me all the way, of course, giving his help and guidance not just to me, but through me to my students. He would give words of encouragement and instruction as to how we could become more sensitive t
o that universal energy we so wanted and needed to tap in to. Looking back, I now realize he was waiting for the inevitable. Curiously (although of course not curiously at all), it seemed that the more I worked as a medium and a teacher, the more those students who came seeking knowledge were those with a special interest and a special talent for healing. You do not have to be psychic to be a healer and I found my classroom sessions became centered on the art of healing (which I explain more about later in this chapter) and for the need of healers to have a careful and thorough training program. Not surprising, then, I found myself, with Grey Eagle's help, involved in a method of training that went deeper and was more thorough than any training program I had come across before that time—or have experienced since. I cannot, nor will I, enlarge upon this further in this book, as to do so would be to ignore the responsibilities of the teacher/student relationship, and this would be a case of a little knowledge being a dangerous thing.

  It was some time later, maybe three years later, that I heard myself say to one particular class, “Now is the time for us to go forth into the world and share with others the knowledge we have gained. To share with others the gift of healing.”

  Shocked, nervous, unsure of their abilities, my students panicked for a while. The thought of opening up a healing center, even though this meant renting a room or hall for just one night a week, with all its implications, responsibility, success or lack of it, dealing with real people with real illnesses … it seemed too much for them, and they voiced their fears loudly.

  Unbeknownst to them, I was just as surprised. I had heard Grey Eagle's words, had spoken them—”Go out, now is the time”—but he had given me no prior warning of this. So, a little stunned myself, I listened as my students came up with first one reason, then another, as to why we should not go ahead with this plan. But then, as the realization of what this meant began to sink in, and the task ahead became more apparent to me, I knew that this was something we had to do and soon.

  Gently but firmly I talked with my class, helping them to understand that this was not something we would be doing alone, that we would be given help and inspiration, strength to do whatever it was that we must do, and guidance to do our work in the way that God intended we should. We would be given help, as much help as we might need from those in the spirit world and from Grey Eagle. We were just a handful of people, with no real idea or framework, no plan to follow—working in the dark, with only the light of those in the spirit world to guide us … and our faith.

  Just two weeks later our first healing center was opened. That was in August of 1985. By 1993 we had opened our seventh center, had become a bona fide healing organization allied to the British Alliance of Healing Association and the Confederation of Healing Organizations and on the British National Register. We are a charitable organization, and not one of our team is paid for the healing work we do. None of us is wealthy, and the majority of the team, which includes nurses, office workers, professional artists, shopkeepers, and the like, have to work to earn a living. I am no exception, and of course, as a medium, I take private consultations for which I charge, and this is my living. If it were not for this, I, like my team, would not be able to dedicate so much of my time to our organization. There are periods when I spend more time in my capacity as a healer than in that of a medium, going out to homes and hospitals, visiting patients who are unable to attend the centers. Helping to run and organize an association such as ours, even though it is small, can take up a vast amount of time and energy. Many people around the world have come to us for healing when all else fails—young and old, believing and unbelieving, and with a variety of illnesses and problems, some physical, some emotional.

  Caroline was just seven years old and crippled. She bad not been able to straighten her right leg since she was two years old. Her parents were desperate. Caroline's leg from the knee down was becoming thinner, and the doctors feared that her leg muscles were wasting. There had been some talk of possible amputation of part of the leg if the muscles continued to waste away. No one knew the cause of the problem. Numerous tests and operations had shown very little to explain the situation, the doctors were baffled, not knowing how to proceed further. It was the talk of amputation that spurred Caroline's parents to visit one of our centers, although they were very nervous and highly skeptical. A neighbor, a patient of ours, had told them about us, and they had decided that at this point anything was worth a try.

  Caroline was our patient for about eighteen months, coming each week, always a bunch of blue ribbons pinned to her dress (my gift to her). Sometimes she would be tearful, occasionally reticent, but mostly she was willing to have me coax a smile from her. Eventually trusting, she grew in confidence and in determination.

  Our team of healers and student healers, under my guidance, worked steadily and with dedication, using our energy, connecting with that universal energy, centering ourselves so that we were good channels for that healing energy to pass through, marveling as each week a little more progress was made. Still, of course, Caroline saw her doctors regularly—we always advise our patients to do this—and they too marveled at her sudden and steady progress. Then eventually, after several months, one evening she walked into the healing center, not hopping as she usually did, but with both feet firmly down, her head held high, and her eyes on my face, waiting for my reaction. Finally, after many months of uncertainty and hard work, we knew that she had made it.

  Now she is a healthy, normal little girl, very active with her swimming and her bike riding. Her legs are strong, the muscles developing as they should, and she and her family are at peace.

  The last time I spoke with Caroline's father, he told me, “Rosemary, I'm not sure if the healing you gave Caroline made any difference as far as healing in a physical sense. Did it actually change the structure of her leg so that she could straighten it, I don't know. But one thing I do know that made the difference in my daughter's healing process. You gave her the will to believe in herself; somehow you gave her the strength to try. The way she thinks, her attitude, has changed so much and in such a positive way. She trusts now, not just in you, but more importantly she trusts in herself and in her ability to live a normal and fulfilling life. I will never be able to thank you enough.”

  It is at these times when my team and I feel the real rewards for our efforts, when we know why we work so hard and feel so dedicated, when we can smile and quietly say, “Thank God for the gift to heal.”

  How can I explain how healing works? When I talk of energy, universal … God … energy, that healing energy which a healer can “plug” into in the same way we might use electricity, I liken it to that same electric power, unseen and intangible, but nevertheless just as real and much more powerful. A healer will, using mind … thought … energy, project a thought out to the universe. The universe receives this thought, this pulse of energy, and combines its energy, which is then transmitted back to the healer and then on through to the patient. As far as the patient and the healer are concerned, this is, even though so powerful, still a gentle art. The patient will either sit or lie in a comfortable position in order to relax, and the healer will at first place his/her hands upon the patient, sometimes on the patient's shoulders, sometimes on the patient's head. Then, becoming very still, the healer will listen as his senses tell him where his healing energy is-needed most. If a patient has breathing problems, then obviously the healer will “feel” directed to place her hands on the patient's chest. Likewise if the patient has a leg injury, the healer will most likely place his/her hands on the affected area, although not necessarily. No dramatics, no strange antics. The patient will inevitably relax, often going into a gentle sleep state, and will wake feeling calm, settled, and at peace. Although the healer will have concentrated on the physical body, he/she will also, and again using in a constructive way the energy that has been created, have been aware of and given healing to the spirit self, the light of the soul.

  In the same way, using mind energy
connected with universal, God energy, we can give absent or distant healing. Projecting our thoughts forward and by concentrating our healing thoughts out toward a patient, those thoughts that are pure energy, healing energy, will travel through time and space to reach the person to whom it is directed. Healing, healing energy, knows no bounds. No distance is too far; our organization has many patients around the world who benefit from the healing we send to them.

  There are so many stories that I could relate, some sad, many funny, all inspirational, and maybe one day I will write a book dedicated to healing alone, to the patients and to the healers, to my students who are all so wonderful in their giving, and, of course, to those in the spirit world who guide and help us in the work that we do. But one story I will tell here, a story that is ongoing and begins for us, the Rosemary Altea Association of Healers (RAAH), some seven years ago.

  Liz Hornby had read in the local newspaper that our second healing center was to be opened in the town of Scunthorpe, in the north of England, close to her home.

  Her son Mark, then aged twenty-two, had just twelve months previously been hit by a car as he was crossing the road. He had been knocked down and seriously injured, sustaining severe head injuries, and his parents had been informed by his surgeon that Mark would never be anything more than a vegetable for the rest of his life. For the first eight months after his accident he was in a coma; then, as he slowly came out of it, the doctors realized that his brain had not been totally damaged, that he could hear and understand, but was unable to respond in any way. The diagnosis was that this was the best that could be hoped for. This, under the circumstances, was a miracle in itself.

  Finally the day came when Mark's parents took him home. There was no hope for a brighter future, but at least their son was alive. Liz Hornby's determination to help her son, even though the odds were stacked heavily against the kind of help she wanted, that great miracle that would heal her son, led her to the RAAH. She asked if we could help, and that first time I went along to assess Mark, and to decide which of our healers I should assign to this patient, is one that I will never forget. His spine injuries left this young man slumped in a wheelchair, unable to lift his head more than a fraction, unable to move his arms or his hands save one finger, spittle oozing from his mouth over which he had no control. As I talked to him he turned his head sideways in an effort to look at me, and I looked into his eyes, eyes that told me that he understood me … eyes that were smiling … eyes that were then laughing as I joked with him. And I knew then that Mark would be my patient. That somehow, no matter how busy my schedule, I would find the time to give healing to Mark.