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ISBN 1-59201-020-2
Books Unbound E-Publishing Co.
http://www.booksunbound.com
Publication October, 2003
Cover Art by Frank Berger
The Healing Zone
The Work of Jean Vaziri
Jude Berman and Alan Crisp
Copyright 1997
All Rights Reserved
Preface
Denise, Erik, Melissa, Jack. Any of their stories could be your story.
Incredible as they may sound,
all the stories in this book are true. The people you're about to meet here
have faced challenges, setbacks, hard times, sometimes overwhelming odds. Yet
they refused to be defeated, to complain, to give in or give up. In short, they
refused to live mediocre lives. In his own way, each one gave himself
permission to reach for what he wanted most in life.
As a healer, I've helped people
from all walks of life. Some didn't have a penny and others had more money than
they knew what to do with. I've worked with people who had issues about health,
relationships, career, finances--you name it. And I've loved working with all
of them. They're like my children. It gives me so much pleasure to watch them
grow and expand and support one another--like one large, happy family.
Over the years, I've seen how
unique each person is. Everybody has unique dreams, unique talents and faces
unique challenges. But they also share something very special. Whether they
know it or not, whether they use it or not, they are all filled with great
inner power. When I work with people, I help them learn to use that power to
transform their lives, to find and to follow their deepest passion in life.
You, too, have that power. You
just need to give yourself permission to use it.
Most people live in cages
they've created for themselves. Like birds whose wings have been clipped, they
limit themselves. You can make a million excuses to stay in your cage or you
can break free from the cage and soar like an eagle.
It's all up to you.
It's up to you how far you go,
how high you fly. If your mind is focused on fear and negative, limiting
thoughts, you could drown in a glass of water. Or you can choose to be happy
and create a rich, rewarding life for yourself. Then, if you have complete
faith in yourself and you want something from the bottom of your heart, nothing
can stand in your way. But you have to want it with every cell of your being.
It's all a question of mind
over matter. Your thoughts are real. If you learn to use them in a positive
manner--and you're willing to be open and take chances--anything is possible.
I've been diagnosed with cancer
on three separate occasions. Each time, everyone else thought I was beyond
hope. In fact, all their negative thoughts would have killed me by now
if I hadn't decided to take control of my own life. I refused surgery and
used the power of my mind--the same power that is within everybody--to
completely heal myself.
For years I've dreamed of being
able to share this knowledge with more people than I have time to meet with
personally. This book came into being as a way to do just that. First I want to
tell you a little bit about my own life. Then I want to tell you the stories of
some of my many, many children. As you read about them, think about your own
life and your own circumstances. Use their stories to empower yourself.
You can overcome any obstacle,
realize any dream. Just remember that God is not cheap; the universe is not
cheap. It doesn't matter who you are, where you are, or what you may be up
against--the universe will respond to your passion.
Think big!!!
Love, Jean Vaziri
Jean
One
Tehran, Iran, 1956
As our car threaded its way
through the labyrinth of narrow streets, the last rays of the setting sun lit
the city with a flood of gold and lavender. My father drove as fast as he
could. In the fading light, it was a miracle he didn't hit any of the people
who darted in and out between the cars.
But my mind was far away.
"Dad, are you sure we'll get a
chance to talk to him?" I asked insistently. "With so many important people to
see, he must be very busy."
"Yes, my sweetheart, don't
worry." My father glanced over from the driver's seat. "It's all been
arranged," he said with a reassuring smile. "You wouldn't believe the strings I
had to pull." My father was Assistant Attorney General, and a very influential
man but, even so, I knew he had gone out of his way to arrange this meeting for
my sake. "We're very lucky," he added. "It isn't easy to get an audience with
the Shah's own spiritual advisor."
I sat forward in my seat and,
for what was probably the twentieth time, pulled back my hair and readjusted
the silk headband that kept it out of my face. I wanted to look my best because
this evening was going to be my first visit to the royal Palace. This in itself
was an incredible honor for a fifteen-year-old girl. But I had a feeling it
would be more than just that. Deep in my heart, I knew something special was in
store for me tonight.
I couldn't wait to find out
what it was.
*****
By the time we turned onto the
wide boulevard that led to the palace, the sky had deepened to a rich indigo.
We pulled up in front of a guardhouse at the far end of the immense palace
compound. My father showed his credentials to the guard, who swiftly waved us
through the gates.
We drove to a large building
nearby and parked the car. Before we stepped out, my father turned to me, his
eyes twinkling. "So, shall we let this meeting decide your destiny?"
I smiled back at him. After
all, I thought, how many fathers would go to such loving lengths to settle,
once and for all, a dispute with their daughter? For months we'd been debating
whether or not I should be allowed to go away to college to study nursing. Even
though I'd made the highest scores on all my exams, and had been readily
admitted to the college, I was petite for a fifteen-year-old and nobody--not
even my father, who always took my side on every issue--thought I looked old
enough to go away to a school so far from home.
But I was determined. I wanted
to be a nurse and I knew I could handle the course work. Besides, I was ready
to test my independence in the big world. Half in frustration, half as a joke,
I'd said one day, "Dad, maybe we should consult a psychic."
He had taken me up on the idea
and done some research to find out who was the best psychic in the country. Now
here we were, on the night before I was supposed to leave for college, waiting
to enter the royal palace to meet the famous Ivan Grigorovich--advisor to the
Shah of Iran--who was visiting from Russia.
"I'm sure he'll know that
studying nursing is my destiny," I teased. "He'll definitely find me mature
enough to go."
My father sighed. "He's a wise
and respected man. He'll certainly think I should be spared the pain of losing
my favorite daughter before she's turned sixteen."
"But, Dad, you'll never, never
lose me! Don't you know that?"
"I know. You'll always be with
me in spirit. But have you any idea how much I'd miss you if you were away at
college?"
Thinking how much I would miss
him, too, I leaned over and gave him a hug. "Come on, let's find out what
Grigorovich has to say about my future. Then we can figure out how we'll manage
if we're separated from each other."
*****
We entered the building and
were escorted downstairs to the basement, where a long, dimly lit hallway
served as a makeshift waiting room for those who had come to see Ivan
Grigorovich. A dense cloud of pipe smoke hung in the air. To my dismay, there
were even more people than I had imagined. Judging by the way they were slumped
in their chairs, many of them had been waiting for quite some time.
We found two empty seats on a
granite bench at the far end of the hallway and sat down. Glancing around, I
couldn't help but notice how distinguished many of the people looked. They must
be here on very important business, I thought. How could there possibly be
enough time for each one? "Dad," I whispered, "Who are all these people?"
Just as my father was about to
answer, a hush fell over the crowd and everyone rose to their feet. We also
stood but, since everyone else was at least a head taller than me, my view was
completely obstructed. "What's happening?" I asked nervously.
"He's walking through the
crowd," my father whispered back.
I did my best to peer between
elbows and shoulders, but I couldn't see much. My heart sank. I felt as though
I were totally invisible.
Suddenly the crowd in front of
me parted unexpectedly and I found myself staring at the sleeve of a flowing,
black robe. A large hand reached out and firmly grasped my own.
I looked up into the deepest,
kindest pair of dark eyes I'd ever seen.
"Who is this young girl?" Ivan
Grigorovich asked.
It didn't matter that I
couldn't find my voice, because my father quickly introduced us.
Grigorovich looked at me
intently. "I want you to wait until I've finished with all these people," he
commanded. "I'm so glad you've come. I must speak with you tonight."
I glanced around at all the
people. It would undoubtedly take hours for him to personally meet each one. My
father had the same thought. "I'm sorry," he said, "but my daughter has plans
to travel in the morning. We can't possibly wait that long."
Grigorovich frowned. "It's of
the utmost importance that I speak with you tonight." Turning to the man who
was accompanying him, he gestured to everyone who was gathered around. "Please,
tell all these people that they will have to come back another time."
As the crowd dispersed and we
were ushered into an adjoining room, I grabbed my father's arm. "Do you believe
it?" I whispered. "He singled me out among all these people!"
We sat down on folding chairs
opposite Grigorovich, who was seated in a large velvet armchair. He reached for
a pen and some paper that were lying on a side table and handed them to us.
"Please, I want you to write down what I'm about to say." Then he paused. His
eyes filled with tears. Suddenly he seemed to be at a loss for words.
"What's the matter?" my father
asked in alarm. "Is my daughter about to die?"
"No, no," said Grigorovich,
trying to pull himself together. "You must know, this girl is very close to
God," he said, staring straight into my eyes. "She is so close to God, you
could touch God through her."
I stared back at him, my heart
singing. No one had ever spoken to me with such recognition. I was more used to
everyone finding me strange, especially because I had an uncanny habit of
saying things that later came true. When I was only six, I had announced to the
family that Grandpa, my mother's father, would be dead in two weeks. When he
died exactly two weeks later, my mother decided that I was a bad omen. All the
relatives, with the exception of my father, began to regard what I said with
suspicion. Ever since, I had felt like an outcast at family gatherings.
"She will do great and selfless
work for humanity," he continued, speaking to my father and only indirectly to
me. "Even though she is small, she is talented and wise beyond her years."
I watched my father. He was
absorbing every word.
"She has an uncommon ability to
heal others. And she must be allowed to develop her skills."
I nudged my father in delight.
This was our answer! Then Grigorovich grew more serious. "But nothing comes
without its price." He turned back to me. "You will be tested in the fire until
you emerge as pure gold. Your life will never be easy. You are going to go
through a lot of pain." He was crying again. "I look at you, my dear one, and I
feel so sorry. Such a little girl and so much suffering, so many heartaches."
My joy evaporated as I listened
to the hard life he was describing for me. To accomplish my chosen work in this
world, I was destined to endure many sacrifices. I would face tragedy and the
loss of those nearest and dearest to me. A marriage to someone in uniform whom
I would love very deeply, but who would make me a widow when he died shortly
thereafter. Family members who would refuse to accept me and would even betray
me. Battles against serious illness.
"Over and over, you'll die and
come back," he said. "You'll die again and come back yet again."
I tried to imagine such a life
for myself. Suddenly the prospect of going off to college in the morning didn't
seem quite so significant.
"You will help everyone." He
shook his head, his tears still flowing. "But you'll never help yourself."
When he had finished speaking,
Grigorovich reached for the paper on which my father had scribbled his words.
He signed and sealed it, then handed it back to me. "I want you to keep this,"
he said, kissing my hand. "When you're older and it comes true, you'll remember
what I've told you tonight."
*****
My father and I walked to the
car in silence. Without a word, we drove away from the palace. I stole a look
at my father. His jaw was set and he looked almost angry.
"What a stupid man!" he said
finally, when we were almost half way home. "We should never have gone."
I knew he wasn't saying this
because I'd received the answer about college that I'd wanted to hear. He was
saying it because he didn't want to see me suffer. And, if I were destined to
suffer, he didn't want me to have the extra burden of knowing about it ahead of
time.
"Maybe it won't happen like he
said." I tried to ease his worry.
He shook his head. "Sweetheart,
I promise I'll never allow anything to harm you!"
We drove in silence for a
while. Suddenly a shooting star streaked across the sky. We both saw it.
Although we didn't speak about it again, we both recognized the truth in what
we'd heard.
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This is a sample chapter from
The Healing Zone
by
Jude Berman and Alan Crisp
We at
Books Unbound E-Publishing Co.
www.booksunbound.com
hope you will enjoy the entire book!
Author's Biography
Jude Berman studied art (her
first love in life) as well as educational psychology. She earned a Doctorate
in Education, which turned out to be an umbrella degree that kept her gainfully
and eternally employed as a writer, researcher and editor. A few years ago, she
decided to take "semi-early retirement" from her booming freelance business in
order to focus on all the things she never seemed to have quite enough time to
do. Combining her love for creative writing and love for art, she wrote the
historical novel
Angelica
, published in 2003 by
Books Unbound
. And she and co-author Alan Crisp wrote
The Healing Zone
. She also spent five transformational years living and working in a yoga
ashram.
Now Jude resides in Northern
California, doing freelance work on a part-time basis and writing another
novel. She is also pursuing her interest in art, particularly pencil drawing.
She has developed a meditative style of artwork she calls "transcendent art" or
the "art of the Self" and is seeking like-minded artists to start a new art
movement. Her expanding website can be found at
Transcendent Art.
Alan Crisp is a graphic
designer who lives and works in the San Francisco Bay Area.
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