My Spiritual Journey

My Spiritual Journey
by Colleen Foye Bollen
	While hands-on training played a significant role in preparing me for my role as a healing arts practitioner, my spiritual journey propelled me into this calling.
	As a child, I joyfully embraced my family's Irish Catholic faith. Then in high school little doubts started eroding away at my beliefs. Soon a kaleidoscope of questions and skepticism replaced my previously unquestioned faith.
	After veering off the spiritual path during college, many years passed before I called on God's help. And then it was only after a series of personal catastrophes.
	Within nine months of my first child's birth (a joyous event), my husband was laid off from his job, my mom died unexpectedly from cancer and my family narrowly escaped from a major house fire.
	Within nine months of my first child's birth (a joyous event), my husband was laid off from his job, my mom died unexpectedly from cancer and my family narrowly escaped from a major house fire
For the first time since leaving the Catholic Church, I yearned for a personal connection with God. I longed for a church community I could call on for physical help and emotional comfort. I missed having a spiritual belief system that would help explain the series of tragedies that knocked my world off its axis. With no religious beliefs to buoy me up, I sank into a sea of misery.
In moments of deep despair, I fantasized about running to the nearest church and laying my tired body on its altar. But, as soon as I saw myself turning over my worries to an omnipresent God, the daydream broke apart. How, my rational self demanded, could I turn my life over to a deity I no longer believed in?
Changing tactics, I began praying for faith. With a fervor that matched my younger self's pious nature, I begged for a spiritual belief system I could passionately embrace. Send me a sign, I prayed, so I can recreate a meaningful spiritual life.
When nothing miraculous happened, and my life inched its way back to normal, I dropped my fervent spiritual request. Without consciously deciding, I reverted back to my agnostic beliefs.
Years later, in the summer of 1997, my long forgotten prayers were answered in an unexpected way. My best writing buddy and friend extraordinaire, Helen McDonald, was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Although Helen died three months after her initial diagnosis, the events of those three months changed my life forever.
I began the summer with my aversion to anything religious fully intact. But that slowly changed as family members and friends with different religious backgrounds, including agnostics, Christians, pagans and New Agers, offered prayers, a wide array of spiritual practices and healing treatments for Helen.
Bit by bit my views of what was sacred and holy expanded. As a tentative student I gradually learned all religions are instruments in the same spiritual orchestra.
Then one afternoon in August, a women's healing circle visited Helen. After helping Helen onto a massage table set up in her condo's living room, the women circled around her. I joined the group as they held hands and began praying.
Closing my eyes, I focused my intention on mentally sending Helen healing energy. Moments later, in my mind's eye, I saw Helen rise out of her body. Her physical body lay on the table, but a second Helen looked down at me from six feet above the table. Although her tumor had taken away her ability to speak in the everyday world, I clearly heard her say, "Dear ones, it is so sweet of all of you to do this, but I don't want to come back." The brilliant smile and the Quebec accent were Helen's. The Helen I used to talk with on the phone several times a week had returned. Except this time she was talking to me from outside her physical body.
As quickly as it had appeared, Helen's floating image evaporated. I remained standing, eyes closed, unaware of anyone around me. Helen had gifted me with a final good-bye message. As a feeling of euphoria filled me, I asked myself, "If this could happen, what else could happen?" With those words my life changed. A door to wondrous, new spiritual experiences swung open.
A few weeks later, my in-laws, John and Joy, came to Helen's condo to conduct a hands-on healing for her. It was my first experience of witnessing their divine gift.
Standing behind a seated Helen, each with a hand on her shoulder, they began praying to Jesus. Soon the words switched from English to a language that had the guttural cadence of a Native-American dialect. Shocked, I realized they were speaking in tongue. I sat mesmerized. Although I had heard about people speaking in tongue, I had never witnessed it.
John later told me, "The language you heard automatically comes through us once we are connected with Jesus. It is not really words, the way we normally think of them. The sounds are a form of direct communication with Jesus."
Two years later, my father-in-law John underwent open-heart surgery. During his recovery the pain was so intense he pleaded with God to let him die. In response he heard God say, "No, you have more work to do."
When John told me that story, my inner voice said, "Yes, that's right. John needs to pass his healing gift to me." The next thought to enter my mind was, "How egotistical can you be to think someone is staying alive for your sake." But, try as I might to stop those initial words, they kept playing over and over in my mind.
Eventually I summoned up the courage to tell John. With great trepidation and knocking knees I said, "Remember when you wanted to die but God told you that you had something to do first. Well, I heard an immediate response in my mind. A voice told me that the thing you need to do is pass on your healing gift to me."
John's eyes widened and he turned to look at Joy. As seconds passed, the silence grew louder and louder. Then he returned his gaze to me and with a broad smile said, "Joy and I thought the exact same thing."
Between that day and John's death in February 2002, we spent many hours together. Although I learned about his healing gift through numerous stories, I received the gift non-verbally on the night before John passed away from complications after back surgery.
As he lay in a coma, I sat down next to him and took his hand in mine. After a few minutes, I felt an intense energy flowing from his hand into my body, like a supercharged electric current. Soon my whole body was physically vibrating. Closing my eyes I accepted the energy and gave thanks to John for passing his healing gift onto me. In a silent promise I agreed to take this gift out into the world and use it to help others. Opening my healing arts practice, Flowing Stillness, is a fulfillment of that promise.

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