Excerpt From "Healing from Heaven: A Healer’s Guide to the Universe"
by Daniel Ryan, D.C.
CHAPTER 9: FORGIVENESS
Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.
—Buddha
It may be difficult to fathom forgiveness in certain situations, but having the intention to forgive and release the energy is the first step toward freedom—one’s own freedom. This step opens the door for Spirit to broaden our perspective and purpose, which may have previously seemed inconceivable. This is the beginning of allowing Spirit to help us forgive others and ourselves.
When Mickey came in to see me, he didn’t expect to be made a believer through the message of forgiveness from his late wife of fifty years. And when Angie came for energy balancing, the last thing she expected was that the spirit of the person who had killed her husband in a reckless head-on collision would be asking for her forgiveness. Then there was Gina, who simply wanted to be unstuck, not realizing that the lack of forgiveness for her late father was a major component of her inability to move forward in life. In the final story of this chapter, my client recounts her experience of forgiving her father and the synchronicity of the timing with her sister.
I DRINK SPIRITS
In all of his ninety-three years, he had not believed in any existence beyond the physical realm. He loved the sea and had spent the past thirty-five years sailing and power boating as much as possible. Standing about 5’5” with fiery green eyes and an old brown leather bomber jacket for skin, Mickey wouldn’t be fooled. He spoke as though he had wrestled the world victoriously, absent of any regret. Life had rounded his shoulders and sharpened his mind.
Mickey propelled himself forward in a slow, rigid gait like a steam locomotive, building momentum. Unfortunately, he became almost completely immobile as a result of an unsuccessful surgery on his lower back the prior year. The surgery was intended to relieve pain and restriction.
The doctors told him that his back had just worn out, and there wasn’t any more he could do. In fact, he wouldn’t be able to walk any longer without a walker. But Mickey wasn’t going to accept that for an answer. So he continued to exercise by swimming and walking in the pool, in spite of his restriction and pain.
I instantly liked him. His sandpaper demeanor smoothed out all the peripheral noise and allowed heart-to-heart honesty. Mickey was all pistol. I learned during the course of a few sessions that he had always been an athlete and enjoyed a keen interest in women.
“I’ve always been very active with the ladies,” he proudly boasted. He had become a multi-millionaire due to his astute business sense and the good fortune of inheriting the family business. After World War II, his father started making lampshades out of his garage. He turned this business into the most successful manufacturer of lampshades in the U.S. in just fifteen years’ time.
“I heard you talk to spirits,” he said with a skeptical grin he wore as an old winter coat.
“Do you have someone you want to talk to?” I replied.
“Ah, I don’t believe in that crap,” he said with a single wave of his hand, dismissing any and all things beyond the tangible realm of the five senses.
You don’t believe that spirits exist?” I inquired, smiling.
He shouted back, “I drink spirits!”
Our laughter shattered the brief silence.
Not to be detoured so easily, I prodded, “Seriously, what do you think happens to us when we die?”
An impish smile grew across his face. He was five years old again as he sang out of key, making his point explicitly clear. “The worms crawl in; the worms crawl out.”
“What am I going to do with you?” I pleaded through my laughter.
“How about you just make me feel better, and I’ll be happy.”
His current wife, Charlotte, twenty-nine years his junior, had sent Mickey in to see me as a last resort before he had yet another surgery. Charlotte originally came to me to see if I could help her with some energetic restrictions she had suffered for the past seven years. During one of the sessions, the spirit of her mother appeared to me. She had passed two years prior and left many unanswered questions for Charlotte, which, in her words, had “jaded her perception of love.” Charlotte experienced healing closure and a new perspective after we were able to communicate with her mother, who expressed remorse for not being a better mother. She also reassured Charlotte that she had learned quite a bit going through her transition. Most important was the fact that her soul continued on after her body ceased to exist. Charlotte had had a difficult childhood, with her father being killed at a young age in the service and her mother being an emotionally unavailable alcoholic. She was left to fend for herself as an only child.
Charlotte met Mickey at a yacht club and enjoyed being taken care of, as well as taking care of Mickey. Charlotte had been a nurse for many years and “knew what she was doing,” said Mickey. She enjoyed his confidence and fortitude. Mickey’s persona preceded him, making him larger than life— at least larger than 5’5” anyway. We began our session together after he was finished speaking his mind.
“Well, let’s have a look,” I said, as he lay down on the table. As I navigated through the stern skepticisms that wove a web of constrictions throughout his energy field, I felt a presence in the room. Her hair was a windswept golden yellow that draped just above her shoulders. Her eyes told a story of surrender from a life of being married to this man firmly invested in his ideology.
“There is a woman named Helga here who says she was married to you for a long time.”
“Oh, yeah,” he snapped back sarcastically. “What does she have to say?”
“She says she forgives you,” I replied.
“Ah, I don’t believe in that crap,” he said in his old seaman voice that had been whipped by the sea breeze enough in his life not to be convinced that easily.
That was the very abrupt end of that conversation until his next visit, when he stood tall and faced me, firmly anchored in his disbelief, and blurted out, “What specifically does she forgive me for anyway?”
Unaffected by his demeanor, I attempted to align my focus to communicate with Helga. I relayed the question to her telepathically and, fortunately, she was again present and responded instantly.
I confronted Mickey with the question, “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yeah, give it to me. Let’s see what she has to say.”
“Helga says that she forgives you for the redhead, the brunettes, and the blonde.”
Mickey’s quick-witted mouth fell open. All color drained from his face as the mask disappeared from his eyes. His whole being surrendered, and his eyes reddened. It appeared as if any disbelief escaped him instantly. He stood motionless, dumbfounded, and amazed. His eyes swelled with the love overflowing from his heart.
“She is the only one. The only woman I ever loved. We were married for sixty-one years, you know.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. She wants you to know that she felt no pain at the end, and felt completely resolved and at peace those last few hours when the doctors disconnected all the machines,” I said quietly.
“I hated seeing her go through that chemotherapy. It almost killed me,” Mickey confided.
Helga continued, “All is well, and I’m free now, Mickey. You were always a good man. I don’t want to make you feel bad. It’s time to let go for now, but I’ll see you again.”
His tear-stained cheek closed the final chapter of their tumultuous bond of love. Mickey’s chest stood at attention, releasing a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Doc. Thanks for everything. Hey, what do you know, I feel a lot better! “
“You’re welcome, I think. You should thank Helga as well.”
I knew that Helga was instrumental in the healing of Mickey’s heart with the power of the love that she had sent during the process. As Mickey was leaving that day, two beautiful women walked by the hallway and continued to his right. Mickey paused, and then took a step, following them.
“The elevator is to the left, Mickey,” I reminded him. Mickey stopped and slowly looked back over his shoulder with an impish grin while pointing to the right and said, “I know, but I want to do that way.”
ANGIE
This story begins on a mountaintop. I found myself immersed in the crisp beauty of the yellow daisies dancing in the heavenly breeze, carrying the aroma of lavender and jasmine, which was eager to greet me. It was one of those days when all things feel possible. The water tumbled and rolled down the spring creek, creating a constant rhythm with the symphony of blue jays, sparrows, crickets, and frogs.
I heard a voice, as if someone were whispering. A tingling sensation climbed up my neck to the top of my head. A whoosh of energy went right through me. I recognized this sensation as that of a spirit wanting to make its presence known. Just within my peripheral vision, an energetic silhouette of a spirit slowly turned his face toward me. I was taken off-guard, but remained receptive.
It’s a myth that spirits only appear in old, haunted houses after midnight with ominous clouds brewing and doors creaking. A spirit can deliver a message right smack in the middle of a beautiful day. As the connection increased, the spirit’s features came into view. He was a large man, square like a linebacker, standing about 6’1”, with thick, dark brown hair and matching bushy eyebrows. Pale white skin framed his deep green eyes. His tenacity commanded my full attention.
“You will be seeing my wife in a few days, and I wanted to introduce myself in advance to see if I could help in any way,” he said.
His intensity slightly repelled me. I acknowledged him and said, “It will be fine to contact me later, but right now I am not available. Will you please wait until she comes into my studio to continue?”
At this point, I still didn’t know who this spirit was referring to when he spoke of “his wife.” I would later learn that he was a computer whiz, who had done well in the tech world. He had purchased a home with his wife, Angie, with the intention of starting a family together.
A few days after her husband came to me, Angie arrived for her session. Her olive skin accentuated sea foam green eyes, framed by thick, curly, energetic auburn locks. She was the kind of woman who knew her beauty, but was utterly unconcerned about it. During our first meeting together, her raw vulnerability was a step ahead of her. Angie explained that her husband had died in a car accident a few years before. Her pain was palpable, with a well of tears always threatening to break free. Angie had finally found her soul mate only to have him ripped away after one year of marriage. Her girlfriend, a client of mine, convinced her to contact me, saying that she was certain that I could help her to open her heart again. After only a few minutes into our session, she began to lean forward in her seat. Her hair fell over her hands, which were cradling her face. There was only silence, except for some sniffling from her.
Slowly looking up, her grief-filled eyes spilled tears onto her cheeks.
“I don’t know why I’m crying,” she sobbed.
I attempted to put her at ease. “Not to worry, you’re processing, and it’s good,” I said as gently as possible.
I had her lie on the table supine as I began to untangle the delicate web of defense mechanisms she bore emotionally and energetically. It felt dark, convoluted, and constricted as if I were trying to swim through a murky swamp underwater with my eyes open. My hands repelled slightly.
Fortunately, Angie was face down on the table and unable to witness this. I explained the process: “We’re not trying to fix anything, but simply using the power of our presence to illuminate the truth. That which is not true about you will fall away in the process.”
Angie nodded quietly in agreement. She reassured me in the beginning to please share with her any messages I may have, that she was ready to heal. She took a few deep breaths while I removed negative energetic patterns from her body. Suddenly, a spirit’s face appeared before me. His eyes were wide open, and his head shook. I was confused at this point because he didn’t resemble the spirit I expected, that of her husband, the one I had seen up in the mountains. His yellow hair, blue eyes, and youthful appearance resembled a surfer. He spoke rapidly, eyes erratically darting side to side.
“I was the driver of the car that killed your husband,” he blurted out. I described him to Angie and relayed what he said.
The air in the room became dense. “Oh, God, that is him. His name was Mark.”
Angie’s quivering voice attempted to explain. “My husband was killed in a head-on car collision five years ago. A reckless driver on crystal meth and alcohol was chasing his girlfriend, lost control, and slammed into my husband’s car, killing both of them instantly.”
Mark began speaking again, pleading. “Please, forgive me. It was such a stupid thing that I did. It tore apart your family and mine.”
A moment of silence passed before he continued, exhausted from the intensity of his emotional plea.
“He’s telling me the numbers 26 and 27,” I said.
She replied softly, “I was 26 and Mark, the driver of the other car that killed my husband, was 27 at the time of the crash. I can’t do this.” Angie froze, her body tensed.
“We can stop at any time if you are uncomfortable,” I reassured her.
After a few deep breaths, her shoulders dropped and she said, “I think I’m okay now. We can continue.”
“Please find it in your heart to forgive me,” Mark pleaded once again, pausing between phrases. “Also, it’s important that you know that I was driving my father’s car at the time of the accident.”
When Mark said that, Angie abruptly burst out crying once again. Her hands whitened around the arm of the chair, as if it was all she could do to hang on. Now panting, I hoped she wouldn’t hyperventilate. I considered stopping the session at this point, more concerned about Angie’s welfare than Mark’s emotional plea. It appeared to me that this was new territory in her healing process. After a few moments of silence, her breath slowed and she lifted her head to speak.
Angie explained, “The insurance policy was a disputed fact in court that influenced the outcome of the civil lawsuit that ensued after the accident. If he were, in fact, driving his father’s car at the time of the accident, then the burden of financial liability would be upon his father and his father’s insurance company, which had much better coverage.”
This specific information was extremely valuable to Angie. “I just don’t know if I can forgive him,” Angie confided in me in a quiet, little girl voice, as if Mark couldn’t hear.
Mark’s spirit began to fade, and another spirit came forth. This one I recognized as her husband, who had approached me before at the mountains. I described him to her, and she shook her head rapidly, saying “no.”
Now I was confused again because he had said that he was her husband, and I thought she would want to speak to him. She began breathing deeply again and eventually confirmed that it was her husband, Roger, but that she just got overwhelmed again and needed a moment.
“Okay, I think I’m all right now.”
I continued, “He’s showing me where he was fatally injured. His head and neck are swollen and contorted.”
“Yes, that’s right,” she sighed.
“How did this happen?” Roger snapped back, with furrows forming in his forehead as his face angrily screwed tighter. He paused for a few moments and then slowed down as he addressed Angie once again. “We need to heal this together, Angie.”
When I relayed this to her, she nodded her head “yes” through the tissues.
“I don’t think that either of us can heal until we let it go,” Roger said.
“I don’t know if I can let you go,” she said.
The fact that Roger was disembodied was irrelevant; he had healing to do. This confirmed further that the soul continues to evolve even after a physical death. I invited Roger to join us in the future when Angie came in, and they both thought that was a wonderful idea to continue this healing process together. Over the next few weeks, Angie continued to heal the open emotional wound the accident had left her. She started working with a non-profit organization that helped abandoned children find new families.
On subsequent visits, she continued to find her peace, although it was a long, difficult journey for her, one that forever changed her view of mortality. Angie became much more interested in finding the gift that was always right in front of her, especially the depth of joy she received when she spent time with children.
Hoping to be a mother herself one day proved to be a positive impetus to the continued expansion of her ability to love. Eventually, the children she worked with became her new family. Opening her heart to these children allowed her to begin to forgive the man who took her husband’s life.
GINA
Gina stood as I entered the room, her eyes cast downward. Her words came from somewhere between hope and desperation.
“I came to see you because I knew you could help me,” she said. Her innate joy could no longer be subdued by the despair that had haunted her most of her twenty-two years. It was time to be released. The open curves of her dark walnut hair fell to her mid-back. Standing 5’9”, her slim Swedish-Italian beauty was incompatible with the emotional weight she so laboriously bore from her father’s abandonment of her.
The energetic constriction in her upper back was sudden as a train wreck, and destined to be as fatal if not addressed.
Gina said that she felt that the power of her intention to heal had illuminated the shadows and provided her with divine guidance. She had begun to fight back against her eating disorder and alcoholic tendencies on her journey of healing. She was combining weekly psychotherapy with a twelve-step support group.
Although well on her way to recovery, she needed additional assistance to purge the stagnant energetic density in her body. I felt moved by Spirit to give her extra special attention. When this occurs, I feel as though an agreement deep within me is being honored, and it’s very gratifying. Gina’s frank honesty with me created a clean slate to begin our process together.
A couple of days before my first session with Gina, a young spirit had made his presence known. He wanted to contact her through me. I asked him to please visit again when she came to see me, which he did. During that visit, he stood slightly hunched, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a mild look of disdain, holding a cigarette in his hand. His presence was a bit ominous to behold and uncomfortable to experience.
Often, spirits will show me how people remembered them physically to further the validation for the sitter. He had similar features to Gina, suggesting a possible genetic link that would later be revealed. When I described this young spirit to her, she said that she didn’t know anyone who had passed and didn’t know who I was describing. In the past when this would happen, I would sometimes question the validity of what I was hearing and seeing. But through my years of experience, I’ve come to understand that the message is always perfect, even though the communication is not. Consequently, when something doesn’t make sense at the moment, I don’t worry about it. I know it will be revealed in time.
A few moments later, another male figure came forth. He had a large, round face, and thinning dark hair on top of his head, framing his distant brown eyes.
“That’s my father you’re describing,” she said. “I never knew him. He left when I was only two and a half, but that’s just what he looked like in the pictures I have of him. I don’t know why he would come back now, since he never did when he was alive. My mom said he was a rat. I don’t know what to say to him.”
“Your father actually has some things to say to you. He says he has a brother, your uncle.”
“Yes, that’s right. He’s still alive.”
“He’s telling me that the young spirit trying to communicate with us is Ricky, your uncle’s son, who died in a car accident.”
“Oh, God, yes, he was on a motorcycle and was hit by a car. My cousin Ricky was always getting into trouble. He was a real ‘bad boy type’ and always hung out with people who were up to no good.”
“Apparently, he is drawn to you because you have had similar challenges, and he thinks you can help each other heal. He says that you understand one another.”
I didn’t know what issues he was referring to, but I assumed they were very similar to Gina’s patterns, in addition to the ones he mentioned.
“Okay, sure, that would be cool, but does this always happen? Is there something else I should know? I mean, I don’t know what to think about this. Can it happen this quickly?”
“It’s always different,” I replied.
Gina accepted the spirit communication without much difficulty, eager to resolve the conflicts within her and earnestly willing to try almost anything to relieve her physical and emotional pain. This allowed her not to overanalyze this phenomenon, which ultimately removed her as an obstacle to her own healing and allowed the transformation to quicken.
“Now your father wants to talk to you about your mother. Is that okay with you?”
“Well, okay, I guess so.”
“He says that he’s not the ‘terrible guy’ your mother portrayed him to be.”
“I always thought he was a bad guy from the things my mother said.”
“Your mother had a lot of issues that she never talked about, and I think you should know to help you understand why it turned out the way it did. You see, your mother had been sexually abused when she was younger, which greatly affected our relationship. She pushed me away, but I wasn’t the warmest person either, and maybe that’s why we attracted each other to begin with. But I’m sorry that it caused you so much hardship. I’m so sorry, Gina. I know it was wrong. I love you. Please forgive me for leaving if you can.”
Gina’s head fell forward, and she fell silent. A few minutes passed before she lifted her head. She spoke softly, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
“How can I do that? I mean, he just up and left and never even tried to contact me. What kind of father is that? He wasn’t there to see me ride a bike for the first time at Christmas time, or when I had pneumonia and had to stay in the hospital, or when I graduated from high school. I needed him. I needed his guidance, support, and, most of all, his love. How could he say that he loves me when he just disappeared? How can I forgive him?”
“Forgiveness is your path to unraveling the family legacy wrapped around your natural joy. This is not only about your father. Forgiveness is for you just as much as it is for your father. In fact, most forgiveness is self-forgiveness. It can be the key that will open your heart again,” I said. “When you set the intention to forgive, even if you cannot fathom it, the universe will conspire in your favor to assist you in your endeavor.”
Gina gradually smiled. “I don’t know if I can, but I’m willing to give it a try. You know, I feel so much lighter. Wow, when can I come back? I want to continue this work with you. It’s awesome.”
Her father and cousin’s energies began to fade. Gina understood that this epiphany was merely the beginning. With greater clarity and self-acceptance, Gina knew she had an arduous task ahead of her, keeping her addictive tendencies at bay. Gina left that day with a renewed enthusiasm to embrace life and the fortitude to move forward to trust and fulfill her intuitive direction.
A SISTER’S PAIN
[The following story is told in the words of a client of
mine who wrote this experience down for me.—D.R.]
One morning, I woke up with an octopus wrapped around my heart. My life was upside-down. I was feeling less than courageous. I rummaged through my purse and found Daniel Ryan’s name, which I had gotten from an enthusiastic man and his wife soaking in a natural hot pool at Two Bunch Palms.
Hours later, I was lying face down on Daniel’s table, my face on shiny paper wedged in the face cradle. In his inimitable gentleness, Daniel said, “Your father is here. He’s asking for your forgiveness.” My father had taken his life ten years earlier.
My father told me that my sister wasn’t doing well. He had a lot to be sorry for and needed her forgiveness. And he wasn’t happy that I had become estranged from my mom over the holidays, which was true. He asked me to stay close to her. He then repeated over and over the name of a man that my husband was flying to see at that very moment.
My mind was racing around the room. I asked myself, “What does this have to do with energy blockages in my body?” But, in a moment, I understood that this was how I had felt a long time ago as a little girl—young, scared, and overwhelmed. Daniel asked if I was ready to release my father and the impressions that were lingering in my body. I was more than ready. I left Daniel that day feeling more like myself. I felt spacious, openhearted, hopeful, and trusting that everything was going to work out. I was also pain-free. My body felt connected again.
The next morning, I called my sister, who hadn’t spoken to me in nine months. Surprisingly, she picked up the phone. I explained that I had seen Daniel for the first time for energy balancing, and that our dad had shown up and was concerned that she wasn’t well. I told her that he was sorry and needed her forgiveness. She interrupted me and asked, “What time was this?” I told her it was around 4:00 p.m. She had been in her car at that same time, and felt our father near her. She said out loud in the car, “I can never forgive you.”
I gave her Daniel’s number and encouraged her to see him. I hope she does so she can feel the peace and well-being I am experiencing as a result of working with Daniel and whoever else shows up.
FORGIVEN
Through a very large crack
A tear emerges
Then another
And another
From the blackness emerges the pain
Anger, fear, self-righteousness and blame
The light illuminates the shadow
The crack opens further
It is a much larger heart
Ageless and timeless
Eyelids fall
The corners of my mouth reach up to greet them
The sweet release of remembrance
All is forgiven
—Daniel Ryan
DANIEL RYAN, D.C., a dynamic healer, mystic and spiritual medium, has transformed numerous lives while also enjoying a separate and successful private chiropractic practice since 1988. Referred to as “Doctor to the Stars” on Lifetime Television and recognized as one of the “Top Doctors” on Southern California’s KCAL-TV, Dr. Ryan is internationally known for his many appearances and workshops, where he teaches meditation and acts as a conduit for spiritual communication and trans-dimensional healing. Although Dr. Ryan holds both a Bachelor of Science degree in Human Biology and a Doctor of Chiropractic degree, this book is not about chiropractic or his work as a chiropractor. Instead, it is devoted to his education, experience, and teaching in the fields of spiritual and energetic healing and liberation. Dr. Ryan currently resides in Southern California with his amazing wife, two creative and courageous daughters and a Papillon dog.
Healing from Heaven (Transformation Media Books 2012, ISBN 978-0-9845751-0-7, $16.95) purchase from Amazon.com http://tinyurl.com/78ywlcp
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