Annabel Rivkin thought crystal healing was decidedly too mystical for her. Then something shifted…
Zoom. Oy. My phone always autocorrects it to ‘doom’. And it has a point. Few and far between are those moments when we stumble towards something life-changing and, in these strange and sad times, the idea that this could happen over ‘doom’ is just… bizarre. But there is much in this world that defies both logic and expectation. So take from this story whatever is helpful and leave the rest.
Until last week I had no interest in seeing a healer. That was for other, more woo-woo types; the ones who do yoga and chat about their chakras. I was not an ideal candidate for something so definitively esoteric. But then the universe sent Estelle Bingham my way and something in me thought: now is the time to see if energetic healing might reach the parts that talking therapy has never been able to access. Now is the time to try another way.
I am not going to tell you very much about what happened between me, Estelle, her crystals and her guides. Not merely because it is as personal as anything I have experienced, but because it goes beyond articulation. That, in itself, offers the sweetest relief. If your life, like mine, is brain-centric, with verbalisation at its core, then an opportunity to step away from your own story, and the performative flourish that words can bring, is like being given wings. Wings that you don’t understand, can’t steer with and find a little frightening. Yet you welcome them.
I felt completely safe (I am not a person who ever feels completely safe) even though, all the while, I cried. I cried as she took me deep into my own heart; the heart that has been armoured for so long. I cry when I think about it. But these are not tears of grief. They are tears of connection. Rarely has anything struck at the core of who I am in the way this did. Over Zoom! Profoundly improbable.
Estelle
After the Zoom session I saw Estelle in person (in Kensal Green) and this time she whacked out her crystals which — in my own clunky, laywoman’s terms — take energy away from where it is unhelpful and deliver energy to where it is needed. The moment I felt their weight upon my throat, chest and solar plexus, they seemed to develop their own pulse; a slow throb. On this second appointment I expected something big. And I got it. I could almost taste a shift at the centre of myself.
At this point in 2020 we are all a little deadened; our laughter less ready; our perspective disordered. What do I want? What is there to look forward to? Who am I now? Surely that sounds familiar to you. I am aware that this all sounds a little poetic and implausible, but when has there been a better time to wonder? To explore? To throw conventional, received wisdom to the wind? To think: f*** it… might as well! Seeing as the world has gone insane. Seeing as the way we so often do things isn’t working any more.
In her Ted talk, the peerless Brené Brown referred to her nervous breakdown as a spiritual awakening and I now have a hard relate to her point of view. Except my breakdown/awakening happened in half an hour. I’m faintly embarrassed to be writing this because the territory is so unfamiliar and easy to sneer at. But Estelle’s gentle, powerful purpose has shifted something fundamental. Something primitive.
Drenched in tears — snotty and prone — I started to meet myself. Feeling deeply vulnerable, I nonetheless glimpsed freedom. Freedom from some of the burdens that have cornered me, in a cold and dark place, for decades. Estelle shed some light on my heart — and that’s a phrase I never thought I’d write. Put simply, I hope to see her again. Put even more simply, I hope…