Years ago, I was at a friend's home, and she had a visitor who was so timid and fawnish that I quietly asked my friend what was going on. She explained that the woman—let's call her Fawn—was struggling with significant emotional and psychological challenges and was receiving treatment from a conventional medical professional.
As our conversation turned to my healing work, Fawn expressed interest in receiving support. She accepted my offer immediately.
It was a beautiful spring day, and we agreed to work outside under a tree. Fawn reclined on a blanket, nervous and uncertain, unsure of what to do. I gently told her that when it was time to act, she would know what to do from within or hear my guidance. Just relax. Just breathe.
Our start was tentative, which is not unusual. But soon she dropped in. She became animated, alive, centered. Wounded, misaligned energies began to release easily.
I was witnessing a woman stepping into her own Sovereign Self.
Her voice lost its tremble. Her presence grew strong and certain. It was a quiet, profound transformation—beautiful and brimming with hope.
And then, something remarkable happened.
She broke through.
"What's going on, what's going on?" she whispered—not in fear, but in genuine awe.
She described tiny lights flying around her. Little nature spirits, perhaps, though she couldn't find exact words. Friend and I saw nothing, of course. This was her soul's plane, not ours. But I checked in to make sure the tiny lights were 'friendlies', as I always do. They were.
Fawn was transfixed. Reaching out to them, wide-eyed, giggling softly. It was a delight to watch her.
After the session, we spoke about what she had experienced. I shared that the lights were a kind of soul-validation, a sign she was reconnecting with Who She Really Is. That she had released something profound - that she had done it herself.
She left grounded, bright-eyed, and deeply changed.
THE FOLLOWING WEEK
My friend had an update. Fawn had told her conventional medical professional (CMP) about the experience. The CMP told her she had experienced a psychotic episode.
None of it was real, she was told.
Just like that, her breakthrough was labeled and dismissed. Her joy and certainty were replaced by confusion and instability. She clung to the CMP's version of events. And who could blame her? It was the safer interpretation—and the one backed by authority.
I didn’t reach out to her again. To do so might have deepened her conflict. It would have changed nothing.
I’ve thought about that day many times. Did our work do more harm than good?
Maybe. Or maybe it was the system around her that failed to hold her new strength.
She touched something real.
And then, someone told her she didn’t.
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