Chapter 1: What Is a Sacred Contract?
A contract isn’t about saying what you meant. It is about
meaning what you say.—Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809–94, physician, poet, and humorist)
When I was a young girl, my father always told me, “I don’t care what you do when you grow up, so long as you’re a nurse or a teacher.” I can still remember my fury when he would say that, because I was interested only in writing. The very idea of teaching school was out of the question. Yet today, in spite of all my efforts to avoid life in the classroom, I am a teacher—of workshops, of theology, of motivation—and what’s more, I love it. I feel distantly connected to the nursing part of my dad’s directive too, through the healing effects my work has had on many people.
My father passed away in 1989, and in the early 1990s, as my mom and I were discussing my work, I said to her, “Well, he won after all.” Then I realized that Dad hadn’t “won” some sort of game or struggle to control what I did with my life. My Contract had won. My father had been able to glimpse aspects of it, as many parents can, although their vision is often clouded by their own expectations and wishes for their children. Even without knowing about archetypes, Dad had seen something in me that evoked his understanding of the greater function and meaning of a nurse and teacher, and he related it to the career choices that were common for young women at the time.
Still, my Contract does contain the archetypes of the Teacher and Healer, which have manifested through the events of my life, even though I have never formally studied healing or teaching. My higher education has been in journalism and theology, but my work in medical intuition simply “happened.” I did my first intuitive reading almost by accident, and then another, and another. Word spread through the neighborhood, and soon I was doing ten to fifteen a week. My growing reputation led to invitations to lecture on my work, which in turn led to invitations to teach workshops.
The most extraordinary feature about how I learned energy anatomy was the precision with which my education was organized. Again, it simply “happened.” Within a period of seven to ten days, three people with the same illness would approach me for help. Each one would prove to be coping with similar but slightly different life problems that had contributed to the development of their illness. By the time I read all three individuals, I felt I had grasped the major energy stress factors behind their conditions. Shortly after I completed one trio, another three people in quick succession would contact me for help. Again, each would prove to have the same illness. Gradually my understanding of energy anatomy led me to realize that our biography becomes our biology.