A friend recently ask me about my thoughts on psychic surgery. I may
have seemed skeptical but I am not; I just feel it can become a panacea and
disrespect those who truly practice this art.
My skepticism lies with the numbers of folks from our culture who co-opt
this practice from cultures where this is truly a healing modality.
When I first came to this city I sought out and met an
elderly Afro American woman who lived in the south end, in a neighborhood that
was long ago destroyed by urban renewal.
The yard around her house was filled with interesting objects that she
ascribed powers to and believed in these powers.
On the surface she appeared a bit crazy but underneath I saw and was
touched by that power.
She didn’t use the term psychic surgery, that’s a white person's
term, but she and others she knew would do this work in removing illnesses from
people. It was a practice that many
Appalachian people engaged in; much like the old tent revivals where folks were
healed, often by the apparent extraction of something dark and slimy from
within them. I have never witnessed an
extraction but I have met others who have and who believe in the power of this
healing; not curing but healing.
Back in the day I knew a woman who traveled to the Amazon and
witnessed psychic surgery by practitioners there. She gave an interview about this experience to
the newspaper, which almost cost her job with the Red Cross, and her husband who had political clout pulled in some favors
to rescue her. This was in the 1960’s and
the newspaper article was about her practicing medicine by day and voodoo by night; long
before I arrived in town, met her, or the old black woman. I share this to build the foundation on which
my thoughts on psychic surgery are built.
In my experience there are those who live and practice
this healing ability as a part of their lives.
It is not a mental construct that everyone can learn, but it is through
experience that this skill develops. You
find this ability in indigenous cultures, and it comes through the exposure to
this healing art and in my thinking it is not a book learned art but it comes through
experience and life style. Many are
healed by this but not everyone can practice it.
We, again in my opinion, as a society place our faith
and belief in pieces of paper that allow us to string letters after our names;
there is no power in letters or paper but there is power in experience. The elderly black woman I met that winter’s
day in South Town had power; no letters behind her name and no paper
certificates on her walls, but there was real power in her. The objects in her yard looked like junk to the causal passer-by, but it
was the description of her yard that allowed me to find her, and for her those
objects held power and that was important.
I was just this little white girl who knocked on her door, was
allowed entrance into her home, and had the nerve and the audacity to think she
would talk to me and answer my questions, and she did.
No newspaper interviews or trips to foreign countries,
but some honest, heartfelt conversation with an old woman who had true
power. There were, and are, posers and
pretenders, and then there are those that are the real deal. This old woman was the real deal. She performed miracles that only those she
touched realized the miracle, and she took a moment out of her time to talk
with this callow young woman who had the audacity to ask her questions. Perhaps
that is a miracle in itself.
So, yes I believe in the power of “psychic surgery”,
but I question the practice engaged in by all who hang out their shingles as
practitioners. It takes far more than
words, letters behind a name, books and contemporary education to create a true
healer; it takes life, humility, patience, and the quiet gentle practice of engaging in healing work.
A young man who was a student in a class I took with
Michael Harner, a shamanic healer and teacher, asked when would he be able to perform miracles? Michael replied “you practice, if patients
return you keep on practicing, if they don’t return then you don’t
practice”. This was also the earnest
young man that Michael, in an exasperated tone of voice, said “get yourself to
a university young man and ask your questions there”.
I am reminded of that callow young woman knocking at the
door and sitting in the living room of the elderly Afro American woman asking
impertinent questions and driven by my desire to need to know. In looking back over the forty plus years since I
sat there I realize the grace and wisdom of that woman’s answers; she shared
enough to whet my curiosity, but not so much as to overwhelm me.
The path to wisdom and to understanding miracles is a
subtle and hidden path. It must be
discerned as we walk along and in this discernment we are lead to impeccability
in our lives. Whatever the healing
practice you engage in believe in it, respect its gifts, practice with
humility, and look for little miracles along the way.
