At 9:00am, September 26th, on the grounds of Omega Institute, a cloak of clouds coasted over rain-soaked clover, leaving the hottest and most unexpected sunbeam in its wake. Sitting there silently in meditation among a sea of 1,600 sweltering seekers, I heard “The Entity” was about to enter the tent and I dutifully stood to pray. João Teixeira de Faria (aka: John of God) walked slowly and powerfully, supported by assistants into the palpably sacred space. When he looked into my eyes facing him fearfully from the front row, I felt my chest and abdomen start to vibrate. I had done my research and watched several YouTube videos. What if he whipped out a serrated kitchen knife and tilted my head back for a cornea scrape?! But what I was experiencing was not human terror after all. No New Yorker neurosis would this calm being tolerate. I wasn’t standing before a butcher. I was in the magnetic force field of a king, a master, a healer or a saint.
As his deep Portuguese voice bellowed The “Our Father” and “Hail Mary”…time stood still as though anchored by João’s physical and spiritual weight. Our eyes closed en masse for only a few devotional seconds before he disappeared like a fleeting apparition. Could this be the same lumbering being who had taken so long to reach the stage? My friend, sitting beside me turned my direction and her expression mirrored my befuddled face. “Where did he go??” we whispered in unison. It was just the first of many mysteries to unfold in the hours that followed. João was no ordinary man and this was no average Monday.
As a student of mysticism, I am endlessly seeking answers but there are things I cannot explain. So, I search for symbolism and mine for meaning hoping I can teach others to do the same. I could share in detail about the unusual warmth and softness of “The Entity’s” hand, the electricity of his aura, and how on my second passing before him, João’s body transformed and his countenance changed. He reached into his pocket and handed me something invisible. Without a second thought, I extended my arm to take it and his assistants hurried me away. Buzzing from the inside, tears rolling down my cheeks, I wondered what I had been given. Was his physical gesture an effort to convince me I had received something from a higher plane? Despite my tendency to believe the Abadianian folklore, my thirst for tangible proof was probably printed on my forehead like a marquee on Broadway.
Awestruck and exhausted, I drove back to the city unable to even speak of the experience to my eager and investigative husband. The details seemed clouded over like the clover. What had I seen? What exactly had taken place? How could I share such a foreign and bizarre story with others? After all, I was cloaked in white, sitting in a swarm of spiritual soldiers. The words “Hale-Bopp” hung in my head and rolled off my tongue to the great amusement of my buddy. This was real and inexplicable but would others find me insane? Was I standing before divinity incarnate or was I participating in a Brazilian “Heaven’s Gate”?
Cynicism aside, it is reported that Medium João selflessly heals thousands and has done so for over half a century. His Casa in Brazil has no official website. There are no blatant commercial aspects. The humble man credits his gift to God and works tirelessly often without a break and always without pay. His very existence opens a portal of possibility. When we quiet the critic and humble our humanity, there is potential for profound faith. Symbolically, I am left with that learning. What if we spent our lives forcing our will instead of leaving room for grace? What if belief was the bridge between the mundane and a miracle and 10 daily, quiet, meditative minutes was all it would take? What if everything was possible, even miraculous healing, if we were only willing to pray?
My epiphany was a beam of light that cut through the questions, like the sudden sun through the soggy tent on that unforgettable day. A-Ha! Moments were not meant to be prodded for proof or dissected like lab frogs. When we swap our complex certainties for spiritual simplicity, child-like curiosity cleans our skeptical slates. If we had all the answers, what would be the purpose of hope or faith? Through that portal of possibility, there is opportunity for evolution. “What if?” is engraved on the door plate. We can live life as we have always known it or cross the threshold to a new one. A world of wonder is a world reframed.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011 at 4:47PM 
When the news circled swiftly around the internet that Steve Jobs had died, I was amazed by the mass grief. Yes, I had an iPhone and iPod and was still hedging on the iPad, but I found the overwhelming response to his passing beyond belief. Was I not enough of a techno-geek or did I take his inventions for granted? Was I simply annoyed that my new iPhone was faulty and needed to be replaced? Or was I assuming the term “great inventor” belonged under a portrait of Henry Ford or Thomas Edison. Was I scouring my history books for inspirational figures while “genius” was there, mock-turtlenecked, staring me in the face.
