Lessons from a Reluctant Healer: On Learning to Listen to that Still Small Voice Within to Better Bring Your Gifts to the World

By Mary H Kearns

Lessons from a Reluctant Healer is an inspiring personal memoir of Mary Kearns' journey towards trusting in her innate gifts and the wisdom of that still, small voice within. She shares the challenges she has faced in following her life path, along with methods she has learned to make the journey smoother. Blending her lived experiences

• Language: English
• Publisher: Your Stellar Self, LLC
• Release date: Aug 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737184003

Mary H Kearns

Mary H. A. Kearns is an internationally sought-after healer, intuitive coach, author, and retreat leader who has studied a wide array of holistic methods with world-renowned experts. Her mission is to help people discover and nourish their Inner Light. Since 2003, she has offered workshops and talks on a wide range of mind-body-spirit topics. Mary holds a PhD in Developmental Psychology from Fordham University, is a Reiki Master Teacher, Certified Life Coach, and Registered Yoga Teacher. You can learn more about her work at www.yourstellarself.com

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Introduction

If you’re willing to listen to, be guided by, that still small voice… within yourself, to find out what makes you come alive, you will be more than okay. You will be happy, you will be successful, and you will make a difference in the world.¹

—Oprah Winfrey

From a very young age, I was aware of my connection with Spirit. But, as I grew, I allowed myself to be pulled away from this inner knowing, following directions that I felt I should be following, rather than what my heart told me was my true path. I hope that by offering stories of the challenges I’ve overcome, and talking about some of the tools I have learned along the way (such as learning the importance of staying grounded), I can help you avoid some of the mistakes I have made so that you can enjoy a smoother journey.

In this book, I share examples of how I have fallen down, gotten up, grown, and regressed and how I kept working to improve my ability to hear that still, small voice within myself and honor my innate gifts. I encourage you to think about similar experiences in your life and how they might be guiding you. I’m guessing that little I say in this book about finding your inner guidance will be absolutely new to you. In your heart, you all know all of this, but you may have set it aside for day-to-day real life concerns. Now, however, is a time of remembering—remembering who we are, why we are here, and what innate gifts we have a responsibility to share during our time here on earth. It is always good to have reminders. I hope this book will inspire you to keep striving toward that place where you allow yourself to shine and bring your beautiful authentic self and gifts to the world—gifts that the world needs now more than ever. 

As I was writing this book, I discovered a pattern in my life. Each time I listened to other people’s opinions about what I should be doing or the logical voice in my brain rather than listening to my inner wisdom, things had a tendency to go off the tracks for me, like when I took jobs just for the money or because someone else told me I had to. But when I paid attention to that still, small voice in my heart, my life flowed with ease and I was able to clearly see the steps I needed to take to live my life’s purpose. Even though I have always felt a deep connection with all beings on this planet (people, animals, insects, plants, minerals, water), it took me a long time to accept the responsibility that I am here on earth at this time to be a healer for all of them.

We all have a life purpose, a mission that we are meant to fulfill in this world. At times, following this mission can be difficult, and it can be tempting to ignore the calling, opting instead to follow a more conventional, materially-driven path, but that usually leads to feelings of imbalance and dissatisfaction, an always-searching-for-more. Ignoring your purpose often leads to a nagging feeling of discontent, a desire for something more in your life. In some more extreme cases, Spirit² will bonk you on the head, reminding you that you have lost your focus and demanding that you honor the gifts you were given. For example, you may be going along thinking things are just fine, but then an unexpected illness, job loss, loss of a loved one, or any number of other life disruptors come along to remind you of what you are supposed to be doing. Collectively, we have been going through an extreme example of this.

I started writing this book two years ago and have been putting the final touches on it during a pandemic, social unrest, increasing economic disparity, and climate change-induced natural disasters affecting everyone and everything on this earth. With all of these challenges placed front and center where we can’t help but see what needs to change, we are clearly being asked to re-evaluate our priorities as individuals, as a society, and as a world community—it is a spiritual call to action to create a better world for all. These times are truly apocalyptic—a word that comes from the Greek apokálypsis, meaning an unveiling of deeper truth and meaning.

Along with many others, I have been hearing this call to action for several years and have been doing the self-work I need to be able to show up fully for my part in creating a better world.  I believe we each have an important part to play, and that is why I wanted to share my story of discovering (or rather, rediscovering) the gifts with which I came into the world, gifts that allow me to contribute my part to bringing about the positive evolution of our world. Each one of us is born with unique gifts that can help us contribute to the evolution and betterment of humanity, so I hope you find helpful my stories about the tools I have picked up along the way that have helped me to excavate and polish those gifts. Like the musicians in a magnificent orchestra, we each have a part to play. Each of us must play our particular piece of the symphony to create something so much more beautiful and transcendent than we can without one another.

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During times of personal tribulation—my mother’s death, my father’s prolonged illness, my divorce—I have felt abandoned by Spirit and have fallen into deep despair, losing perspective on my reason for being here on this planet. Over time, though, I have learned how to raise myself out of those feelings of despair, by opening myself up to the higher realms of consciousness and reconnecting with my purpose. I have done this by learning ways to raise my vibration,

Allow me to take a moment to explain what I mean by raising my vibration. If you are like me, you have heard the term good vibes all your life and have a vague understanding that it related to a place or person that feels good to be around, but what exactly are these vibrations and how do you raise them?

Over the past hundred-plus years the discipline of quantum physics has been exploring the idea that everything in the universe is made up of energy vibrating at different frequencies, a concept that Eastern cultures have talked about for centuries.³ Energy manifests as different forms of matter, depending on the speed with which it is vibrating, and human consciousness has been found to affect, on a quantum level, how energy manifests—the observer affecting that which is being observed.⁴,⁵ We humans are composed of several different levels of energy, physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual.⁶ Each of these levels has a vibrational frequency; for example, the human brain oscillates (vibrates) at a frequency of 70–79 MHz, the heart at 60–70 MHz, and our chakras (which are associated with our endocrine centers) have their own particular oscillations. In addition, the entire body contains and is surrounded by an electromagnetic energy field that vibrates a thousand times higher in frequency than nerves and muscle.⁷

Each of these systems has an optimal vibrational level that is associated with physical and emotional wellbeing. Low vibrations are associated with disempowering thoughts, negative emotions, poor health, physical pain, and mental confusion. Conversely, high vibrations are associated with empowering thoughts, positive emotions, good physical health, and strong spiritual awareness. So, it makes sense that you benefit by raising your vibration, as do those around you and, by extension, the entire world.⁸ When I am consistent in my observation of these practices, I can more easily hear that inner voice of wisdom and appreciate my interconnectedness with all living beings.

As I already mentioned, my main reason for writing this book is to help show you how I learned to stay in tune with that wise, still, small voice within myself so that you can too. And I offer this book as a message of hope during this unique time in history when we have an opportunity to rewrite our individual and collective stories. I encourage us all to learn to raise our vibrations and listen to the still, small voice within ourselves so that we can all do our best to help birth a better world for all.

Chapter 1: The Journey Begins

The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.

—Mark Twain

Upon the occasion of my birth in January 1964, the Indian poet Gurdial Malik, a friend of Mahatma Gandhi and Rabindranath Tagore as well as my parents, wrote a poem for me.⁹ I remember my mother reading it to me on more than one occasion when I was very young.

Little Mary, Little Mary

From where have you come?

From God, she said in reply,

God, who loves every one

What message did He give you

For us to whom you have come?

"God said,

Love one another,

So that the Kingdom of Heaven

May soon come."

I have always held that message in the back of my mind and deep in my heart, even during times when I veered off of my path.

My mother liked to tell a story about when I was two years old. I had recently moved to a big-girl bed, and one night she and my father woke to the sound of a loud thud in my room. My father went to check on me and found me on the floor. He picked me up and placed me back in my bed. I looked at him, and without saying a word, I climbed back out of the bed onto the floor. I put myself into the position in which he had found me, and then I climbed back into the bed on my own. I’m not quite sure what was going through my head, but I sense that I wanted to show him that I could take care of myself—thank you very much. My daughters, when they were that age, would often admonish me for trying to help them with tasks they were working on, saying, No! My do!

Despite my rugged independence, I was a sensitive child. I recall walking into my parents’ room at night one time when they were watching a documentary on the Wounded Knee Massacre, where more than 250 Lakota Sioux men, women, and children on the Pine Ridge Reservation were killed by United States Army soldiers. I walked in during a scene where people were being slaughtered in their homes. One man was eviscerated by a solder; I felt sick to my stomach and could actually feel the man’s pain. After that, my mother carefully monitored my media consumption.

My mother also had to be careful with the foods she fed me and the substances she put on my skin. As an infant, I had allergic reactions to scented and dyed laundry detergent, so my pediatrician recommended she use Ivory Snow, which was the gentlest formula on the market at the time. She told me that he had told her, It doesn’t matter if your whites are white, as long as your baby doesn’t have a rash. It’s interesting to think of her having that conversation with him since she was an early adopter of the whole organic and natural movement. Sweetened cereals were rarely allowed in the house. She never fed me anything with artificial colors or flavorings, with the exception of the occasional maraschino cherry, my one guilty pleasure. My mom baked her own bread with organic flour she ordered from Walnut Acres, and we ate mostly vegetarian, with the occasional fish or chicken for dinner.

I had several food allergies, so that prevented me from eating certain nuts (almonds and hazelnuts), stone fruit (peaches, nectarines, plums, apricots, and cherries), and dried fruit with sulfites. Such foods would make my throat get itchy and start to close up, making it difficult for me to breathe. I had seasonal allergies, rendering fall and spring times of misery. I was also allergic to cats, but I insisted on having them and put up with the sneezing and swollen eyes because my love for them was stronger than my immune system. Fortunately, I would eventually grow out of these allergies.

Before I was born and in my early years, my mother had worked and volunteered for various social justice causes. She saw all people as being equal and taught me this perspective through her example. I would tag along with her when she attended local meetings of the League of Women Voters and when she did volunteer work for Pivot Ministries, a faith-based residential addiction recovery program for men. Pivot—founded by her friends Rev. Alonzo Smalls, Rev. Dr. Joseph D. Clemmons Sr., and Reverend Henry Yordon—was located in South Norwalk, Connecticut, which at the time was suffering from economic hardship. I remember going there with her and noticing that the vast majority of the residents were Black, with a few Hispanic and Latino men and maybe one White man. Through her example in interacting with these men, I saw that there was nothing wrong with them; it was just that their circumstances and life choices had led them to this place. There was no reason that they could not create new paths for themselves, and some of the volunteers were former residents who had reclaimed their lives through the Pivot support system. My mother taught me that our society does not provide an even playing field, so life can be more difficult for those who are not born into the privileges that others take for granted.

One day, when I was in second grade, my school sent home letters saying that they would be administering Stanford-Binet IQ tests to the students. My mother took the opportunity to share more about the inequities in our society, commenting that the tests were biased, having been developed by middle- and upper-middle-class White men. I kept that in mind when taking the test, imagining how my grandfather (her father) would answer the questions. Later in graduate school, I learned more about Dr. Anne Anastasi’s research into the racial and gender disparities in standardized testing. Looking back, I often think of how ahead of her time my mother was.

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When I was in fourth grade, my teacher, Miss Yuko, brought a big rock to class. She held up the rock, the size and shape of a large grapefruit cut in half, and then passed it around the room. When it reached me, I was captivated by its contrasts—plain, dull, boring light brown on the outside with sparkly white crystals on the inside. I ran my fingers across the pointy crystals, mesmerized by their texture and the way they caught the light. At about six inches wide, the crystal felt huge and heavy in my small hand. That is a geode, Miss Yuko said and told us a bit about how they are formed.

At the end of the day, Miss Yuko announced, I will give the geode to the person who guesses the number I am thinking. It’s a number between one and forty. You have to pick a unique number. You can’t guess the same number that somebody else has. There were about twenty-five children in the class, so I figured my odds were pretty good. She went around the room, and when it was my turn, I said, Nine! After everyone had made their guess, Miss Yuko announced that I was the winner. I wondered whether I had actually read her mind or she just wanted me to have the geode. Normally, she acted as if she didn’t like me, so I didn’t think she would have motivation to give me the geode, but either way, I was happy that I was the one heading home with it. And so began my lifelong fascination with crystals and other stones, which would come to play an important role as my mineral messengers at certain times in my life.

Intrigued with the possibility that I had read Miss Yuko’s mind, I bought a book at that year’s school book fair about a girl with extrasensory perception (ESP). I saw a lot of similarities between her life experiences and mine, but many were different, so I wasn’t sure if I had the gift. As open-minded as my mother was about many things, she was weirded out by anything she deemed as occultist, so I couldn’t talk to her about it and was left to my own devices to learn about this aspect of myself.

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Being the only child of a White mother and a Japanese immigrant father, I did not consider myself White or Asian; I was both. Because my mother was White and in her 40s when I was born, strangers would sometimes ask, Is your daughter adopted? I found this annoying and hurtful. I learned at a young age that the labels people place on others are for their own convenience, helping them to fit others into their idea of how the world is or should be, and do not benefit the person being labeled.

Because my mother’s ancestors had arrived in America in 1631, I considered myself an American. I also saw myself very much as a world citizen, not belonging to any one country but rather to the entire world and the whole human family. While my father only taught me a few words in Japanese, he did expose me to some Japanese children’s stories and prepared some Japanese dishes. In addition, every year he and my mother set up a display of beautiful Hina dolls dressed in Heian Period (794 to 1185 CE) imperial court clothing and made a tri-colored gelatin dessert for Hinamatsuri, Japanese Girls’ Day, a holiday for families with young daughters, where they would celebrate them and pray for their health, success, and happiness. The colors of the dessert (which is traditionally made of mochi) represents the pure and cleansing snow (white), the peach blossoms (pink), and the coming springtime (green). My parents shared the meaning of the dolls with me, but as an adult I learned that they were originally believed to have power over evil spirits.

My parents had met and married at Pendle Hill, an international Quaker post-graduate study center in Wallingford, Pennsylvania.¹⁰ On its lovely park-like campus, students and staff would participate in a daily silent meeting for worship, study with world-renowned scholars, contribute to the work-life of the place, and participate in a campus community built on the Quaker ideals of integrity, equality, simplicity, community, stewardship of the earth, and peace. They lived there for several years, working and studying, and during that time, they met many people from all over the world who had come to learn, lecture, or sojourn at this exceptional place. When I was growing up, my parents would often host international guests whom they had met during their time at Pendle Hill. I was exposed to many fascinating people and many fascinating philosophical and intellectual conversations. One memorable visitor was a member of the Cadbury family(I don’t recall his first name), a descendant of the chocolatier and relative of the scholar Henry Cadbury. I thought he was a very lucky man to have unlimited access to Cadbury chocolates. 

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My parents moved to Norwalk, my mother’s family’s hometown, in November 1963, a couple of months before I was born. My mother loved the diversity of the city and felt that it was important to raise me in a place where I would be exposed to many types of people. Plus, she had several family members around to support her.

The majority of people who knew us were very kind and did not make me feel like an other. A handful of kids throughout my school years were overtly and