Jon

Tess, my wife June, our friend David and a group of friends created a healing circle on my behalf at the beginning of Covid in 2020. They called it the Love Army, and they met on Zoom every day for 75 days. I wasn’t actually on those calls, so what I have to say about them is largely anecdotal. I wasn’t on the calls because I was in a coma for most of that time, in an ICU where no visitors were allowed. I can tell you, however, what I’ve heard from the people I’ve talked to after the fact. Everyone who was on the calls was there for my benefit, they showed up because they were invested in me getting better. But they said what happened was that they were getting as much out of it as they were giving. The experience became very powerful for them personally. They were participating in something that was a collective energy aimed at one person, but they all said they were benefitting, too. Everyone I talked to has said how intense it was, and how meaningful it was for them to be a part of the group and a part of the collective energy.

 I refer to Tess as my shaman. I’ve always felt a connection to her, an admiration, since we met 30+ years ago. Maybe it was because she was never afraid to do things. When I came out of my coma and woke up, I had a dream about her, and it confused me because we hadn’t seen each other in a very long time. Out of all the people, why did I dream about Tess? It was kind of a random moment. I was in my kitchen stirring a pot of pasta, she came in and we hugged. We didn’t speak, but the hug was a way of me letting her know that everything was okay.

 Months later, Tess shared with me her detailed notes on the healing calls, and among the many things that shocked me was that we had shared the same dream! 

 Here’s what she had written.

 So Friday night I had a moment with Jon that didn’t feel like a dream but instead felt like a moment I’d experienced somewhere in time. It was very short.

 There’s a gathering at Jon and June’s house. Jon is alone at the stove, stirring a big pot of pasta sauce with a wooden spoon. And I walk into the kitchen, leaving the celebratory environment in the other room. I open my mouth to say something just as he turns and looks over his shoulder at me. And I suddenly burst into tears and blurt out, “I was so worried about you.” And he puts the spoon down, moves toward me and wraps himself around me. And he just holds me for a long time without saying anything as I sob. And even though he doesn’t say anything, I feel him saying: everything’s okay now, I got you, you can let this go, let it all go.

 And I woke up.

 Reading her notes, it became clear to me that while I was in a coma, she was reaching me. So many of my dreams and “hallucinations” were so similar I knew that we were somehow meeting cosmically. Nobody was physically taking me in a pool of water or walking me on a golden path, but I was right there as Tess as she was envisioning those things with the group. 

 After I woke up, I was moved to a Transitional Acute care facility. I had been immobilized for two months, I was very weak, I’d lost 50 pounds, and now I was starting physical therapy. The first time I did it, I had two staff members under each arm holding me up, and I could only stand for 40 seconds. That was more energy than I could manage and it wiped me out for the next 24 hours. The following day, June called to ask me what I needed the group to work on for me, and I said “energy and stamina.”

 Tess and the group imagined my body remembering how to move. 

 We see Jon in his hospital bed. Imagine his stomach muscles engage as he sits up, his back away from the elevated bed and pillows. See him scoot to the edge of his bed. He pushes his hands into the bed as he lifts his legs a bit so he can slide them over the edge. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed now, his feet on the floor. His heart is calm and steady. His legs feel strong and capable. He rises up, pushing off the bed a bit with his hands. His heart is calm and steady. His breath is strong. His balance is certain. He starts to walk across the room. It’s different this time. His body remembers completely how to do this. His mind has recaptured how walking works, how the freedom of movement feels, and he does it now, effortlessly. His breath is strong. His heart is calm and steady. His balance is perfect. There is no tightness in his muscles, no stiffness in his joints. He is safe and healed and whole and ready to go home.

 That day I walked 80 feet. I wasn’t on the call but I still benefitted. What they were doing was affecting me. That’s like a direct dial-in. I went from 40 seconds of being held up and exhausted to the next day walking 80 feet. 

 The doctors still talk about being part of the Love Army. They were always included in what was going on. Normally, someone is in the hospital, maybe having surgery or something, and you talk to the doctor and say, my whole family is praying for you. Well, this is much different. What Tess does goes far beyond just a guided visualization. These are positive thoughts and visions, held in the vibration of love, and very, very specific and focused. It’s a focused group that brought the doctors and nurses and surgeons and caregivers into the sessions, giving them strength and positivity, saying their names and surrounding them in loving energy to help them get through what they were having to go through, too. 

 Before this happened to me, I wasn’t necessarily someone who believed in any of this. And there’s a lot of people I talk to now who don’t believe the group had anything to do with my survival. When I was in outpatient rehab, I was trying to tell one of the nurses about the healing group. This nurse said, “I don’t believe in any of this. You’re telling me that six million during the holocaust didn’t pray!” Just the way some physicians hear me talk and chalk it up to coma-drug-induced hallucinations, while others want to know when the book is coming out so they can know more about my story.