Healers Read Online Free Page B

simply misguided seekers of the truth,” he boomed. In the house next door the television was turned up louder in compensation. “Oh no! Most have had a way to the word of the Lord and have turned away from it. They have joined the path to sorcery, witchcraft and the devil. Through choice and deliberate wickedness.”
    There was a shuffling of seats in anticipation. They liked to hear Ron talk about the devil. It was better than a good horror film any day. But they were disappointed. His tone changed.
    “That path always leads to misery and disaster,” he said, so quietly that they could hear the football commentary through the wall. “We know that, don’t we? We’ve seen it in our own congregation. Our own little Faye, my step-daughter, Joan’s beloved baby, turned her back on righteousness and paid the ultimate price for her sin.”
    Magda Pocock was a striking woman. Her background was mixed Eastern European and minor English gentry. When she was younger her features had been too large to make her attractive but she seemed to have grown into them. The high cheekbones, the heavy eyebrows gave an impression of gravity and power, of someone at least who should be taken seriously. “The Germaine Greer of the New Age’ one of the Sundays had called her. She had laughed at that but taken it as a compliment; looking at herself in the mirror she had understood what was meant. They had cleared all the furniture from the reception area in the Alternative Therapy Centre. It was still cramped but it was the best she could do, better at least than using a draughty church hall or a school gymnasium smelling of cabbage and sweaty children. The group were sitting on the floor, chanting. Not choruses to the glory of God but a low, communal tone. Magda always started her session that way. A deep breath into the pit of the stomach, then an exhalation which became vocalized, relieving tension, making new members feel part of the group. Lily, sitting cross-legged, shut her eyes and felt herself relax for the first time that day. Magda looked round the circle to see who was there. She saw a couple of new faces but mostly the old crowd: Lily Jackman, Val McDougal.
    “Get into pairs,” she said. Lily and Val moved together. Lily looked towards Magda, expecting her to separate them so their experience could be shared, but she must have decided not to make an issue of it. Lily was pleased. She did not have the energy today to work with a stranger.
    “Just a few exercises to help us feel at ease with each other,” Magda said, and got them to shut their eyes and explore each other’s faces with their fingertips. Her voice, compelling, still slightly foreign, allowed no awkwardness. Lily, feeling Val’s hands on her neck and forehead, felt like crying.
    “Now stand facing each other. Imagine one of you is the mirror image of the other. As one moves so must the other. But let no one be the leader. Be so aware of each other that you move together, almost instinctively.”
    She walked among them, encouraging them. Then told them to sit again while she explained about Voice Dialogue. “Each of us has different sub personalities within us,” she said. “Each with its own voice clamouring to be heard: the submissive child, the critic, the pleaser, the pusher, the rule maker the playful child and many others.
    Some of these sub personalities we are conscious of, some we identify with very strongly, some we disown, not wanting to admit even to ourselves that these energies belong to us. Others we are yet to discover. By giving expression to the different voices inside us, each pulling us in its own direction, we can begin to be more aware of our complexity, more aware of balance, of what is best for us as a whole.”
    In their pairs they should explore these different voices, Magda said. They should speak with them. Move to different chairs or cushions as they gave expression to the different facets of their own personality. Starting with