A year ago, I woke up to blood on my sheets.
I’d been coughing in the middle of the night – coughing so violently that I’d coughed up blood. A lot of blood. My sheet was sprayed with it. Literally.
It freaked me out.
I’d had this cough for nearly two years.
Yes, two years.
I couldn’t shift it.
I’m not one to run off to doctors at the sign of a sniffle. In fact I don’t believe in using the resources of western medicine unless you have no other choice. I firmly believe in the body’s ability to heal itself through right thought, right action.
Anyone who had any interaction with me during that two year period knows how bad that cough was. Often I couldn’t speak on the phone without interrupting the call because of a coughing fit.
Despite my antipathy towards doctors I finally went to get medical help. My doctor did all sorts of checks and tests. I didn’t have bronchitis or pneumonia or any kind of chest infection that he could determine. I was coughing, and coughing badly – there in the surgery – but he didn’t know why. Irrespective, he prescribed me antibiotics.
I dutifully completed the course of antibiotics. I was still coughing. I did a second full course. I was still coughing.
I went back to the doctor and he examined me again – gave me another course of antibiotics, this one more powerful. I again dutifully completed the course. And a second course. It did no good. I was still coughing.
He gave me a third course of different antibiotics – flummoxed now as to why I was still coughing. He suggested I have a chest X-ray. I didn’t want to have a chest X-ray. Like I say, I have an antipathy to western medicine.
The third lot of antibiotics didn’t work either.
The cough wasn’t debilitating. I could live my life. But I couldn’t carry on any kind of conversation without coughing. I couldn’t even sit in a room without coughing.
Last year I walked the Via di Francseco in Italy – 250km through Tuscany and Umbria to Assisi – and it was tough going for me because of the cough.
A few months later I had to go to the US for filming for my documentary on intuition. This time last year I found myself in Mount Shasta, to interview one of America’s leading psychics and healers, Michael J Tamura.
The night before the interview, in the motel in Mount Shasta, I woke up to that coughing fit and discovered the next morning that my bedsheets were blood splattered. Not pretty.
Later that morning I went to Michael’s house, he took one look at me, and knew immediately that something was wrong. He asked if I wanted him to heal me.
I said: “Yes please!”
He sat opposite me in his lounge room, and he “zoned out.” His eyes fluttered uncontrollably, his fingers felt the air around me – his hand reading my energy field – and it was very apparent to me that he was well and truly somewhere else!
He then opened his eyes, and he didn’t ask me, he told me about someone I’d known from a past relationship in my early 20s. He was very specific about this person, including a physical description, which left me in no doubt who he was talking about. He also told me about the nature of the relationship – which again was specific, and correct.
But how did he know of this person?
No-one knew of this person.
He hadn’t been “fishing,” throwing out generalised comments.
He told me swiftly, without hesitation, as if he had just seen her.
As if he knew.
He told me this woman was still angry with me, and she had her hands around my throat, energetically, and she’d been trying to strangle me.
Then he went back into his “zone” and he his eyes fluttered again, and he felt my energies again, and then his eyes popped open and he told me that in a previous life, a couple of hundred years ago, I had been a political activist. He told me that I’d been speaking out against injustices and I’d been caught by the authorities, shackled and put on display in a town square, and to make an example of me and warn others not to speak out, they’d slit my throat in such a way that I’d died slowly.
Michael asked me if I wanted these energies cleared from my system.
I said: “Yes please.”
And here’s the thing, I haven’t coughed since.
I am serious.
Ask anyone who knows me – who knew me before Michael Tamura, and after.
I haven’t coughed since.
It’s mid winter here now in Australia and I’ve been half expecting the cough to return, but it hasn’t. It’s gone for good.
Michael showed me, clearly and demonstrably, how energy and spirit work. I am living proof and I am still in awe. What he did for me that morning in Mount Shasta, twelve months ago, has been integral to my awakening.