She told John, through me, of her excitement when John became involved with the spiritualist movement in England and became a healer. “Tell him I work with him, giving my energy, sending my love and inspiration,” she said.
Then Grey Eagle spoke, giving John one final message, the most important of all.
The reason for my meeting with John Mikaledes was revealed, and all became clear.
Since going back home to Cyprus ten years earlier, John had had many disappointments concerning his spiritual work. Although at first he had tried to continue with his healing, it had become more and more difficult as time went on. Lack of interest and lack of opportunity had finally forced him to give up, so he had left his healing behind.
“The time has come,” said Grey Eagle through me, “to begin your healing work again, for you have been too long away from it. It is important, not only for you, but also for the people around you, that your spiritual work should now continue.”
John shrugged his shoulders and shook his head in despair. “But where do I begin?” he answered.
“I really don't know,” I replied, and added with absolute confidence, “but before I leave Cyprus you will have begun your healing work again.”
We left the village of Spitali, having arranged to go back for another visit before our holiday was over, and arrived back at the flat, tired, hungry, and thirsty, but pleased with the day.
I made sandwiches and drinks, and we went out onto the terrace to eat. When the last crumb was gone, we were just about to turn in when a knock came at the door.
Now the last thing you expect when you're on holiday abroad is visitors at ten o'clock at night. The owner of the block of flats we were in had taken it into her head to pay us a visit to make sure that we had settled in and had no complaints.
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!
J
ohn 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 to 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.