healing zone excerpt

The Healing Zone .qxd 4/3/09 10:10 PM

The stories in this book are true.In some cases, names, locations and identifying details have been changed topreserve anonymity.

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY PATHWAYS PRESS, INC.CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.

The Healing Zone; The Work of Jean VaziriCopyright © 2007 by Jude Berman and Alan Crisp

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in aretrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the priorwritten permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form ofbinding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similarcondition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ISBN: 978-0-9806259-8-1Inkstone Digital

www.inkstonedigital.com


MacBook

Text Box

This is an excerpt only. To download the entire ebook go to http://www.inkstonedigital.com/index.php?crn=180&rn=556&action=show_detail

http://www.inkstonedigital.com/index.php?crn=180&rn=556&action=show_detail

The Healing ZoneThe Work of Jean Vaziri

byJude Berman and Alan Crisp

inkstone


“The light of Jean’s great love led me out of my darkness andawakened my long-abandoned dreams and possibilities.She taught me to live with courage, strength, freedom andjoy. She offered me miracles, and as I learned to acceptthem, I saw that my life was a miracle.”

—Gretchen Del Rio, Artist

“Jean is absolutely one of the most amazing women I’veever met! Because of her I’ve been able to come out of theshell I was hiding in for a long time. When I understoodwhy I was afraid to take risks, I was able to start going afterwhat I really want. Now I have a better job, make moremoney and my relationships are happier.”

—Dave Couch, Graphic Designer

“Jean touched me with such a powerful love my life hasnever been the same. She taught me how to love myself,how to fill the emptiness with light and how to be mindful.Jean helped me let go of past hurts and fill the scars withunderstanding.”

—Randie Shapiro, Senior Marketing Director


Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7

Jean . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9

Erik . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127

Melissa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173

Penny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 214

Jack . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236

Epilogue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256

Contents


Author’s Biography

Jude Berman studied art (her first love in life) as well aseducational psychology. She earned a Doctorate in Education,which turned out to be an umbrella degree that kept her gainfullyand eternally employed as a writer, researcher and editor. A fewyears ago, she decided to take “semi-early retirement” from herbooming freelance business in order to focus on all the things shenever seemed to have quite enough time to do. Combining her lovefor creative writing and love for art, she wrote the historical novelAngelica, published in 2003 by Books Unbound. And she and co-author Alan Crisp wrote The Healing Zone. She also spent fivetransformational years living and working in a yoga ashram.

Now Jude resides in Northern California, doing freelancework on a part-time basis and pursuing her interest in art. Sherecently completed Alms for the Bartender, and Other Love Stories.

Alan Crisp is a freelance graphic designer living and working inthe San Francisco Bay Area.


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 theyrefused 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 gavehimself permission to reach for what he wanted most in life.

As a healer, I’ve helped people from all walks of life. Somedidn’t have a penny and others had more money than they knewwhat to do with. I’ve worked with people who had issues abouthealth, relationships, career, finances—you name it. And I’ve lovedworking with all of them. They’re like my children. It gives me somuch pleasure to watch them grow and expand and support oneanother—like one large, happy family.

Over the years, I’ve seen how unique each person is. Everybodyhas unique dreams, unique talents and faces unique challenges. Butthey also share something very special. Whether they know it ornot, whether they use it or not, they are all filled with great innerpower. When I work with people, I help them learn to use thatpower to transform their lives, to find and to follow their deepestpassion in life.

You, too, have that power. You just need to give yourselfpermission to use it.

Most people live in cages they’ve created for themselves. Likebirds whose wings have been clipped, they limit themselves. Youcan make a million excuses to stay in your cage or you can breakfree from the cage and soar like an eagle.

7


It’s all up to you.

It’s up to you how far you go, how high you fly. If your mind isfocused on fear and negative, limiting thoughts, you could drownin 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 inyourself and you want something from the bottom of your heart,nothing can stand in your way. But you have to want it with everycell of your being.

It’s all a question of mind over matter. Your thoughts are real. Ifyou learn to use them in a positive manner—and you’re willing tobe 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, alltheir negative thoughts would have killed me by now if I hadn’tdecided to take control of my own life. I refused surgery and usedthe 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 knowledgewith more people than I have time to meet with personally. Thisbook came into being as a way to do just that. First I want to tellyou a little bit about my own life. Then I want to tell you the storiesof some of my many, many children. As you read about them, thinkabout your own life and your own circumstances. Use their storiesto empower yourself.

You can overcome any obstacle, realize any dream. Justremember that God is not cheap; the universe is not cheap. Itdoesn’t matter who you are, where you are or what you may be upagainst—the universe will respond to your passion.

Think big!!!

Love, Jean Vaziri

8


Jean


10

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 andlavender. My father drove as fast as he could. In the fading light, itwas a miracle he didn’t hit any of the people who darted in and outbetween the cars.

But my mind was far away.

“Dad, are you sure we’ll get a chance to talk to him?” I askedinsistently. “With so many important people to see, he must be verybusy.”

“Yes, my sweetheart, don’t worry.” My father glanced over fromthe driver’s seat. “It’s all been arranged,” he said with a reassuringsmile. “You wouldn’t believe the strings I had to pull.” My fatherwas Assistant Attorney General and a very influential man, but evenso, I knew he had gone out of his way to arrange this meeting formy sake. “We’re very lucky,” he added. “It isn’t easy to get anaudience with the Shah’s own spiritual advisor.”

I sat forward in my seat, and for what was probably thetwentieth time, pulled back my hair and readjusted the silkheadband that kept it out of my face. I wanted to look my bestbecause this evening was going to be my first visit to the royalPalace. This in itself was an incredible honor for a fifteen-year-oldgirl. But I had a feeling it would be more than just that. Deep in myheart, 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 thePalace, the sky had deepened to a rich indigo. We pulled up in frontof a guardhouse at the far end of the immense Palace compound.My father showed his credentials to the guard, who swiftly wavedus through the gates.

We drove to a large building nearby and parked the car. Beforewe 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 fatherswould go to such loving lengths to settle, once and for all, a disputewith their daughter? For months we’d been debating whether ornot I should be allowed to go away to college to study nursing. Eventhough I’d made the highest scores on all my exams and had beenreadily admitted to the college, I was petite for a fifteen-year-oldand nobody—not even my father, who always took my side onevery issue—thought I looked old enough to go away to a school sofar from home.

But I was determined. I wanted to be a nurse and I knew I couldhandle the course work. Besides, I was ready to test myindependence 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 findout who was the best psychic in the country. Now, here we were, onthe night before I was supposed to leave for college, waiting to enterthe royal Palace to meet the famous Ivan Grigorovich—advisor tothe Shah of Iran—who was visiting from Russia.

“I’m sure he’ll know that studying nursing is my destiny,” Iteased. “He’ll definitely find me mature enough to go.”

My father sighed. “He’s a wise and respected man. He’llcertainly think I should be spared the pain of losing my favoritedaughter before she’s turned sixteen.”

“But, Dad, you’ll never, never lose me! Don’t you know that?”

Jean

11


“I know. You’ll always be with me in spirit. But have you anyidea how much I’d miss you if you were away at college?”

Thinking how much I would miss him, too, I leaned over andgave him a hug. “Come on, let’s find out what Grigorovich has tosay about my future. Then we can figure out how we’ll manage ifwe’re separated from each other.”

* * * * *

We entered the building and were escorted downstairs to thebasement, where a long, dimly lit hallway served as a makeshiftwaiting room for those who had come to see Ivan Grigorovich. Adense cloud of pipe smoke hung in the air. To my dismay, therewere even more people than I had imagined. Judging by the waythey were slumped in their chairs, many of them had been waitingfor quite some time.

We found two empty seats on a granite bench at the far end ofthe hallway and sat down. Glancing around, I couldn’t help butnotice how distinguished many of the people looked. They must behere on very important business, I thought. How could therepossibly be enough time for each one? “Dad,” I whispered, “whoare all these people?”

Just as my father was about to answer, a hush fell over the crowdand everyone rose to their feet. We also stood, but since everyoneelse was at least a head taller than me, my view was completelyobstructed. “What’s happening?” I asked nervously.

“He’s walking through the crowd,” my father whispered back. Idid my best to peer between elbows and shoulders, but I couldn’tsee much. My heart sank. I felt as though I were totally invisible.

Suddenly the crowd in front of me parted unexpectedly and Ifound myself staring at the sleeve of a flowing black robe. A largehand reached out and firmly grasped my own.

I looked up into the deepest, kindest pair of dark eyes I’d everseen.

The Healing Zone

12


“Who is this young girl?” Ivan Grigorovich asked.

It didn’t matter that I couldn’t find my voice, because my fatherquickly introduced us.

Grigorovich looked at me intently. “I want you to wait until I’vefinished with all these people,” he commanded. “I’m so glad you’vecome. I must speak with you tonight.”

I glanced around at all the people. It would undoubtedly takehours for him to personally meet each one. My father had the samethought. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but my daughter has plans to travelin the morning. We can’t possibly wait that long.”

Grigorovich frowned. “It’s of the utmost importance that Ispeak with you tonight.” Turning to the man who wasaccompanying him, he gestured to everyone who was gatheredaround. “Please, tell all these people that they will have to comeback another time.”

As the crowd dispersed and we were ushered into an adjoiningroom, 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 wasseated in a large velvet armchair. He reached for a pen and somepaper lying on a side table and handed them to us. “Please, I wantyou to write down what I’m about to say.” Then he paused. His eyesfilled with tears. Suddenly he seemed to be at a loss for words.

“What’s the matter?” my father asked in alarm. “Is my daughterabout to die?”

“No, no,” said Grigorovich, trying to pull himself together.“You must know, this girl is very close to God,” he said, staringstraight into my eyes. “She is so close to God, you could touchGod through her.”

I stared back at him, my heart singing. No one had ever spokento me with such recognition. I was more used to everyone findingme strange, especially because I had an uncanny habit of saying

Jean

13


things that later came true. When I was only six, I had announcedto the family that Grandpa, my mother’s father, would be dead intwo weeks. When he died exactly two weeks later, my motherdecided that I was a bad omen. All the relatives, with the exceptionof 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,” hecontinued, speaking to my father and only indirectly to me. “Eventhough 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 beallowed to develop her skills.”

I nudged my father in delight. This was our answer! ThenGrigorovich grew more serious. “But nothing comes without itsprice.” He turned back to me. “You will be tested in the fire untilyou emerge as pure gold. Your life will never be easy. You are goingto go through a lot of pain.” He was crying again. “I look at you, mydear 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 wasdescribing for me. To accomplish my chosen work in this world,I was destined to endure many sacrifices. I would face tragedyand the loss of those nearest and dearest to me. A marriage tosomeone in uniform whom I would love very deeply, but whowould make me a widow when he died shortly thereafter.Family members who would refuse to accept me and wouldeven betray me. Battles against serious illness.

“Over and over, you’ll die and come back,” he said. “You’ll dieagain and come back yet again.”

I tried to imagine such a life for myself. Suddenly the prospectof going off to college in the morning didn’t seem quite sosignificant.

The Healing Zone

14


“You will help everyone.” He shook his head, his tears stillflowing. “But you’ll never help yourself.”

When he had finished speaking, Grigorovich reached for thepaper on which my father had scribbled his words. He signed andsealed it, then handed it back to me. “I want you to keep this,” hesaid, kissing my hand. “When you’re older and it comes true, you’llremember what I’ve told you tonight.”

* * * * *

My father and I walked to the car in silence. Without a word, wedrove away from the Palace. I stole a look at my father. His jaw wasset and he looked almost angry.

“What a stupid man!” he said finally, when we were almost halfway home. “We should never have gone.”

I knew he wasn’t saying this because I’d received the answerabout college that I’d wanted to hear. He was saying it because hedidn’t want to see me suffer. And if I were destined to suffer, hedidn’t want me to have the extra burden of knowing about it aheadof 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 allowanything to harm you!”

We drove in silence for a while. Suddenly a shooting starstreaked across the sky. We both saw it. Although we didn’t speakabout it again, we both recognized the truth in what we’d heard.

Jean

15


16

Two

Huntington Beach, CA, 1996

Alan and I sat spellbound as Jean Vaziri recounted the story of hermeeting with the Russian psychic forty years before. We tried toimagine what it would feel like to be told at such a young age howyour life was going to unfold. If you knew what tragedies weregoing to occur, we wondered, would you try to—and would you beable to—prevent them?

Jean’s life sounded like something we’d only seen in the movies.But then, we were quickly coming to realize that, in Jean’s world—the world of a psychic healer—we had to learn to expect theunexpected. Even the fact that we were sitting here, in Jean’s livingroom, sipping coffee and listening to her stories, was somethingneither of us would have expected six months earlier.

* * * * *

It had only been a few months since we’d met her, yet already sheseemed part of our lives, like a close relative or that special personwho somehow mysteriously knows all your dreams and fantasies—not to mention your quirks and foibles.

When we’d met Jean, it was clear she knew all about us: each ofus personally, as well as our publishing company. We’d createdPathways Press a few years earlier out of our deep desire to publishbooks with a spiritual message. However, each of us held other jobs,and the company remained a hobby, something to dabble in whenwe had spare time.


Jean

17

In one brief meeting, Jean saw through all the years of inertia,all the years that we’d never allowed ourselves to think big enough.In her straightforward, sometimes dramatic, ruthlessly honest—butnevertheless loving—style, she had told us what she saw. Not onlythat, she set about changing us so that we could succeed. Eventhough she could easily have chosen more qualified writers and amore experienced publishing company, she had asked us to write abook about her life’s work. Almost before we knew it, Alan and Ibecame the writers. Up until that point, Alan had been Pathways’graphic designer and I had served as the editor. Neither one of ushad tackled anything quite like this before.

This weekend, the two of us had traveled to Southern Californiato spend the day with Jean, to listen to her story, watch her at workand meet some of the people whom she had helped. When wepulled up in front of her modest suburban house, Jean had comerunning out to greet us.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” she said, as we walked into herliving room and sat down on the black leather sofa. “Can I get yousome coffee?” Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared intothe kitchen, leaving us to take in our new surroundings. All fourwalls were covered with interesting and unusual paintings andphotographs. Many of the photos were of well-known personalitiesand had been autographed. I was just about to walk over andinspect the picture of a movie star that caught my attention, whenJean reappeared.

“You can look at those later,” she said, setting down a tray withcoffee cups and a large platter of jelly donuts. “We have a lot to talkabout today. Let’s get started.”

“What should this book be about?” was our first question.

“It’s about mind over matter,” she said simply.

That was a broad statement, and an intriguing one. We askedher if she would tell us more about what she meant by it, and howit might be applied.


The Healing Zone

18

“Your thoughts are real,” she said. “They have incredible power.If you use them in a positive manner, anything is possible. When Iwork with people, I help them learn to use that power to transformtheir lives. Most people live in a cage they’ve created for themselves.You can make a million excuses to stay in your cage. Or you canbreak free and soar like an eagle. It’s up to you how far you go.”

“You make it sound so easy!” was Alan’s response. “Why don’tmore people use that power?”

“Well, they can. They just need to have greater faith inthemselves,” Jean explained. “If you want something from thebottom of your heart, then nothing can stand in your way—but youhave to want it with every cell of your being.”

* * * * *

Now, as we sat and listened to the first part of Jean’s story, Iwondered how it related to what she had told us: that we all havethe power to shape our own destiny. “If you’ve been told how yourlife is going to unfold,” I wondered aloud, “can you still changehow it turns out?”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking that you won’t have to facechallenges in life. These things happen. What counts is that you canalways change how you view whatever happens,” Jean said. “That’smind over matter.”

“But can you avoid the suffering?” I persisted. “Can you escapethe problems?”

Jean frowned. “Why do you always focus on problems? Youdon’t understand. There are no problems in life. There are onlychallenges.”

“And what’s the difference?”

“Problems are only created if you believe in them. Otherwise,every situation is an opportunity to make your life what you wantit to be.”


“Did all the suffering the Russian psychic predicted come true?”Alan asked.

“Of course. He was a wise one. He knew what he was talkingabout—”

Just then, the door bell rang and Jean went to open it. A youngwoman who was covered virtually from tip to toe with elaboratetattoos walked in. Jean welcomed her with a warm hug, thenstepped back and asked, “So, how’re you doing?”

“I’m just great!” The woman smiled back.

“I’d like you to meet Denise.” Jean pivoted around to introduceher to us. Noticing our expressions of curiosity, she added, “Deniseis a professional tattoo artist.”

“Hi, everybody,” Denise said shyly.

“She’s also someone who’s faced a lot of challenges.” Jean gaveDenise’s shoulder an affectionate shake.

Denise looked around the room. “I just stopped by to say hi. Ican see you’re busy, so I’ll come back another time.”

“Wait a minute!” Jean said. “Not so fast. You can’t leave beforeyou tell Jude and Alan your story. They’re here to write a bookabout healing.”

Denise laughed self-consciously. “Are you sure you’d like to hearmy story?” she asked us.

“Don’t always be so shy,” Jean reached out and gave her cheek asharp but loving pinch. “Of course they would!”

We nodded our agreement.

“Go ahead and talk,” Jean said, as she poured a cup of coffee forDenise. “I have some things to do. I’ll be back to check on you in alittle while.”

Denise pulled up a chair and sat down. As soon as she startedto speak, her shyness vanished.

Jean

19


20

Three

About five years ago, I was working as a full-time tattoo artist. Iheard about Jean from a client of mine. My curiosity was piquedand I figured it would be interesting to meet her, but I didn’t doanything about it for months.

Then, one day, I thought, what the heck? I picked up the phoneand made an appointment to see Jean. I didn’t expect anything tohappen and I certainly wasn’t looking to make any changes in mylife. I was going purely for entertainment. I thought it would be akick to hear what a psychic had to say about my life.

Not that my life didn’t need changing.

Fact was, it was a mess. A total, complete mess. You see, I’d beentrapped in an abusive marriage for about four years. Every time Imade a move to leave, my husband Willie would threaten to killme. And I knew him well enough to know he meant business. If hedidn’t want me to leave, then I wasn’t gonna be leaving. End ofstory.

* * * * *

The day I went to see Jean, I was really tired. I almost canceled onher at the last minute.

But I didn’t. I showed up here, on Jean’s doorstep. I wasn’t surewhat to expect. Perhaps a huge crystal would be dangling from herneck and she would look at me with a far-away gaze. But the short,dark-haired woman who opened the door looked as normal asyour next-door neighbor. If she had been standing next to me in thegrocery check-out line, I don’t think I would have even noticed her.


healing zone excerpt

Documents