I thank all my teachers and the invisible forces of love who came to help me, to help someone who was important to me yesterday, to recognize that my friend is stable and in good hands this morning, to recognize that I have been used as a container of love and healing with all the tools for which I have been trained, to recognize that I have seen them so clearly that they are all necessary, that no tool should replace the others. Let us use this energy of the full moon and drop the stories that separate us, that make us feel that we must choose between modern medicine and ancient medicine, that make us align our nose with what we don’t understand, that separate us from love and limit what is possible. Thank God, there are healing methods that allow us to be guides of divine love and healing that can comfort, support and strengthen the body’s natural self-healing mechanisms through a kind of energy transfusion when the life force fades away. Using the energy psychology method of trauma, which I taught with AIT founder Asha Clinton, to remove this traumatic energy from my system, I used the AIT phrase: “Matt’s fingers were cut and the blood splashed and I felt fear, frost, disgust, nausea, vertigo and terror” to release the flashback. And to remember a deep inclination to the power of prayer, this “call to help” to invoke the invisible forces of love that surround us all the time and to run to help us when we are humble enough to recognize that we are above our heads and need the support of regions we do not see. Today, I have tears in my eyes as I write these lines, moved by gratitude for opening my eyes to healing tools that no one in medical school taught me, tools that I probably would not have accepted if I had been exposed to them. Although I didn’t know what was happening, I shouted out as an emergency prayer: “Help me! I need help” to all the invisible forces of love they hear. With an oxycodone in my pocket, in case I had to use it, I closed my eyes and began practicing William Bengston’s “cycling” method, a practical method of healing that I had practiced as part of my research for my book Sacred Medicine. So they asked for a helicopter that came to us with a lot of pomp and circumstance and took him to a trauma center where the doctors “saved” his life. While I am grateful to have learned all that I have learned during my seven years of traveling through sacred medicine, I cannot tell you how grateful I was when I finally heard the sirens of the ambulances screaming on Route 1 in the small cul-de-sac in which we are living. The traumatic images of 13 years ago brought me back to Julian, California, where my then husband, Matt, screaming down the hill on our seven-acre property, shouted, “I’m so fucked! I’m in trouble! When I saw blood flowing from a work glove with two amputated fingers floating inside, the jagged edges of the bone protruding, I discolored and said, “You’re so fucked up,” before I called 911. When I heard the good news this morning that he was stabilized, I took the time to feel my gratitude for all the ways medicine can be sacred. I don’t know if the bike I made with our neighborhood handyman helped me, and there’s no way science will prove it or not, but I know that he felt my love for him when I touched him and said “you’re so dear. He kept saying, “Thank you, Dr., I put my hands on the wounds of the little hand, closed my eyes and prayed for any help that would help me to use myself, to punish myself and to fill him with everything that could keep him alive until medical help arrived. Let it be a time of reunion where we combine the wisdom of ancient healing with modern technology at the service of love, healing and consciousness.