Eliza Doolittle at the Japanese Ball

Songs from “My Fair Lady” are running through my head this morning because last night I was really treated like royalty. It followed busy days of doing sessions with my incredibly talented, kind interpreters Kyoko-san and Makiko-san. Before us came a parade of clients, these included:

• I loved hearing the cello-deep voice of a pianist and composer, not my friend Jeffrey Chappell but a Japanese man whose inner child flames out through his eyes with a similar outrageousness.

X has written at least one hit song here and, if I understood correctly, he orchestrated an Academy Award-winning song. What I know that I understood correctly was the contents of a cord of attachment between himself and a very difficult woman. Reading out those cord items, how we laughed. And I felt most grateful helping this talented man to have an easier life.

One client who arrived bearing such a glorious aura; innocently she sat in her chair as if she were ordinary, yet she met my definition of “saint.” (Actually, on this visit to Tokyo, I have spoken with two such women.) “Sally” needed just a little poke and prod for her aura to do even better. During my Guest Event last night,  I also got to read her face I also got to read her face, drawing attention to her luscious, curving Mark of Devotion punctuated by a large beauty mark. She had thought that line was what I call an Anger Flag. Whew, glad we sorted that out!

Many successful executives have shown up for healing. Each time I have watched them peel off layers of command right before my eyes. One man cried so loudly during a session of Energy Release Regression Therapy, I feared the police would come. But they didn’t. He arose from his session smiling and strong, his graceful Japanese decorum regained.

Several times, I have recommended that a client seek the support of psychiatric medication. “Penny” told me she was already taking meds for depression. Clearly they weren’t working, and I urged her to ask her doctor to find an alternative that helped more. Crawling around inside someone, doing an empathic merge, reminds me of the characters in the film “Inside John Malkovich.” One does have adventures, and this dear lady was sending out alarmingly intense thoughts of suicide. Afterwards, I asked my interpreter if she could hear these loud thoughts. To my surprise, she couldn’t.

Only one client, this trip, hasn’t appeared really pleased with her session. “Gertrude” was polite as she could be, yet I’m pretty sure she was disappointed because her reason for coming was that she had experienced many contacts with UFOs and wanted me to report on what they were trying to tell her. All I could do was to help with a stuck human-type relationship. Graciously, she hid her yawn.

GUEST EVENTING

Two days in a row, I went straight from my last session here at the hotel over to VOICE headquarters, having about 10 minutes between arrival and greeting a room filled with stiff rows of chairs and warmly expectant faces.

Last night I felt a little intimidated because I’d been briefed that, sometime during the evening, a major rock star, “Henry,” would be attending along with an important magazine writer who was covering him, “Josephine.”

In our crowded auditorium, we also had three women who were hearing impaired, so one member of VOICE staff typed out a transcript of the meeting on her laptop. I had been asked to do readings of the two busy celebrities, so I decided to include them when I did my demonstration readings.

Josephine and Henry arrived late. I had wondered if they would look unusual in some way. They did. It was their mouths. As they sat in the back row, and I did what I could to hold the audience, much of my attention was riveted to their mouths. Never had I seen anything quite like this: A mixture of shyness, the habit of being famous, dislike of crowds, and having spent hours being very, very bored while making required appearances (in this respect, much like Queen Elizabeth).

Still, a promise is a promise and I had said I would read these people. Besides, a technique is a technique.

For Josephine, I did the empathic merge technique from Empowered by Empathy, “I Want to Hold Your Hand.” What a lovely journey followed. 

Josephine possesses a rare ability to move her consciousness into the hearts and minds of millions — whatever cohort in collective consciousness she aims to write for. For a heart-stopping moment, hanging in space, inside Josephine’s aura, I was reminded of the late Cathy Hainer, a delightful woman who interviewed me for USA Today.

Not until our feature story was published did I learn that Cathy had written a series of articles about fighting cancer and, in fact, Cathy “died” within a year of our meeting. But I’ll never forget merging with her powerful, visionary holding and helping. You might expect someone with such a gift to wear a monk’s robes, living in seclusion like my son’s godfather, Art Boucher, whose “work” involves meditating from an ashram fastness deep in the Himalayas.

Unless you read auras or do empathic merges, will you ever know which spiritual luminaries live among us, or what jobs they have (if any)? So here was Josephine, unmasked, and she was so sweet about letting me describe her most secret gifts of consciousness to a group of strangers.

Henry came next. As I playfully dragged him up to the “stage,” neither of us was sure we were going to like this little exercise.

Sometimes people tell me “Nobody can read my aura because I won’t let them.”I laugh. Were it not for dependable techniques for deeper perception, however, what would have happened with Henry? One big, embarrassing nothing.

So technique ahoy! I was demonstrating “The Heart of The Heart” from Empowered by Empathy. Putting my ear to Henry’s chest, I quickly noted the “typical performer’s body,” very different from you or me: Incredibly thin, astonishingly muscular; as physically self-conscious as a teenager, only multiply that by a thousand, and subtract any nervous teenage-style giggles. He was extravagantly (yet discretely) groomed to a degree beyond that given to ordinary mortals.

It’s not so much a body to live in as a responsibility.

Zooming through, speeding into a full empathic merge, the otherness of Henry fascinated me. I couldn’t wait to face the audience, open my eyes, and speak like the total motor-mouth I can be. Henry listened calmly as I described him, using words like these:

When you perform for an audience, energy shoots through you like tongues of flame: Purple, orange, red. Having come in on The Ray of Shiva, you specialize as a person in removing illusions. As a person, and especially as a performer, you do this to people by your presence. Those who don’t want to change will dislike you. But many of the people you meet feel they are stuck inside old ways of living. They don’t know how to get out. When you send in those energies, you crack open places where they are stuck, bringing the change they are longing for.

Also, you happen to have enormous sex appeal that gets extra strong when you perform, appealing to men and women, straight and gay. This is just another aspect of transforming energy, turned way up, helping people to become more awake inside.

When I said this last part, the collective audience in the room did a split-second shudder of recognition, like “Oh, so that what I’ve been feeling for the last 20 minutes.” The whole room brightened up quickly, as if someone had taken a photograph with a big flash.

Finally, you’re totally detached when these gifts come from you. Inside you’re used to observing how you affect an audience, so there isn’t much feeling of involvement. That helps you to do what you do.

Calmly, in a thoroughly detached way, Henry listened. He nodded. After thanking me, he returned to his seat.

THEN THE WILDEST PART OF ALL

Soon the official talk was over. Most in the audience joined a line that snaked around three of the room’s four walls. One by one, they had me do an “empath check,” a quick “I Want to Hold Your Hand” followed by “Yes” or “No” about whether the person was an empath. I’d also autograph books, for those who wanted that.

Since the whole event was meant for empaths, it wasn’t surprising that most people both nights fell into that category. I did have one fellow with spiky hair who wasn’t an empath. He was the boyfriend of a woman who was one. When people aren’t empaths, I don’t just tell them “No” but try to soften any disappointment by telling them about one gift that I do notice in their aura. “Mike” had a fabulous sense of rythm.

When I told him, he shrugged, nearly laughing at me for being so foolish. But I really do hope he considers learning to play drums, because I think that a fine career awaits.

I loved doing the empath check for my three deaf audience members, who gesticulated rapidly to each other and gave me shy smiles.

Speaking of shy, you should have seen Henry and Josephine after most of the crowd had departed, thanking me and asking me for an autograph, in their new copies of Empowered by Empathy.

Then the Head of Publications for VOICE walked over. By now the room was nearly empty. He pulled out contracts for me to sign, allowing VOICE to publish the Japanese edition of Cut Cords of Attachment.

For half a year, the contract has been under negotiation. It was my Foreign Rights Contract #24. And now it’s official, hooray!

A strange and perfect evening this had been, like the green-tea flavored cake that I had at lunch, like me walking down stately streets of Hiroo wearing my bright yellow raincoat, like all the quietly stunning surprises that await this East-Meets-West aura reader every day in Japan.