A Journey of Healing and Transformation

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The year 2022 began her awakening. During that time, Sinclair devoured books on energy healing and read a book or two, without any prior knowledge or preconceived notions of quantum physics, about the Field. Quite out of the blue, she met a quantum physicist on the 48th floor of Exchange Square, in a private club, who said, without blinking his eyes, “it’s all true.” Even still, with confirmation bias mounting, the healing that Sinclair had experienced during her searching, much like Western care, seemed palliative, failing to touch on the root cause, until her sessions with Judy.

Judy’s office, at the center of the Balance Health practice, and the obstructed view of the city held space for Sinclair’s musings. Judy Xu was selling a course for busy professionals to convert their corporate careers into fulfilling ones. Sinclair sat upright in one of two chairs – a thinly carved wooden chair – knowing that she wouldn’t be interested in the course. She couldn’t see how she could devote a whole hour, every week, at a specific time, to join other over-achievers, like she had once been, in search of moving towards happiness in their life and corporate careers. Twenty minutes, though. Sinclair conceded that she had twenty minutes for a free introduction.

At the time she scheduled her 20-minute consultation with Judy, a sort of New Year’s resolution, the organized confusion of her day and the disparate writings in notebooks, traditional and electronic, needed consolidation and order. This endeavor, at the top of her list, became second, third and ultimately trumped by her familial obligations. Her spouse pointed to her slouched shoulders, which hung lower ever so slightly day-by-day and the trade-in of her polished, almost square, corporate look to a now disheveled mom-attire as further evidence of a change that needed some correcting. Their Sorkinesque dialogue, a cadence affected by their love of movies, had dried and died by the vine along with the intimacy that spawned their lovely two children. But was it Sinclair who changed or life that changed? She admitted, at least to herself only, that she needed some guidance. It might have been her 40th birthday precipitously approaching, rather than Marc’s insidious, but rather truthful comments, that sparked her contact with Balanced Health.

Staring intently out of the window, Sinclair fidgeted her hands. She then read a few titles of the books upon Judy’s bookshelf. Positive Intelligence caught her eye. The receptionist set a cup of tea on Judy’s narrow oak desk for Sinclair to enjoy during the session – a courtesy that is now a habitual practice between the two. The first sip, too hot for her lips, soothed Sinclair’s discomfort and warmed her insides. Judy cleared her throat to begin.

At the window, just yonder, out past a few buildings, the lines accenting the Bank of China building could be seen and just beyond that in the distance, mountains and luscious greenery. The view was as serene as the burnt scents wafting about. Judy’s voice quite slowly and deliberately like honey flowing from a spout introduced herself and explained her services.  Judy and Sinclair riffed for a bit until Judy posed Sinclair with a question that had never been raised to Sinclair in a manner that crystallized a major problem. The question related to Sinclair’s power and men. 

Judy, an indeterminate age, thin and elegant, spoke to Sinclair with a divine clarity. She moved to Hong Kong more than twenty years ago from China and catered to clients worldwide. For Sinclair, as Judy revealed a bit of herself, she felt less naked, less exposed by the knowledge that Judy had intuitively downloaded and ultimately revealed.

Part of herself — elemental and at her core — was being denied, and Judy offered in that very session to help her reconcile these conflicts weighing her down. Hindsight posed the clarity of vision that their meeting was predestined and ordained. Their first encounter now seemed certain to alter the rest of Sinclair’s life.

Initially Sinclair did not reveal much to Judy – it was Judy who revealed Sinclair to herself. Her identity, unwittingly her ego, was wrapped up in her earlier achievements as a lawyer, wife and mother. Sinclair, a cliche of an aspiring writer, couldn’t get out of her way to uncover that path. And so Judy simplified Sinclair in a way, asking each of these parts of herself, Sinclair the lawyer, Sinclair the wife, Sinclair the mother to step up and make room for Sinclair the writer. She’d ask each of them to allow for Sinclair to make mistakes. For a moment, Sinclair wondered what was going on. But her heart knew that she was onto something as she rose from her seat filled with hope, or a faithful knowing, that Judy would unlock her inner Hemingway, maybe not the polished writer, but the man, the myth, the legend who for some time dared to live.

At the beginning of their sessions, Sinclair’s tentativeness was eased by her conversations with Judy which were usually scheduled as a mid-week or bi-monthly check-in. They agreed to work together for a specified six sessions. In the first few weeks, she was writing, and organizing, and momming, and lawyering and wife-ing – and not in a particular order.

The passage of time brought about intense clarity about the dynamics in her family. The living ghosts of her family, the versions of them in the past, who had taunted her, were transformed during her sessions with Judy into supporters in her journey toward wholeness. Sinclair discovered that her relationship challenges, once an inherited mystery, flowed from a compulsion to give and not receive. Did she not know she was good enough? Her tears answered Judy’s question of whether she had unconditional love. Tears of abandonment. Her sadness – the stream of tears rapidly rolling down her face – her eyes somehow suddenly connecting to her belly. Is this a breakthrough?

On that particular day, a rainy autumn day, the wind could be heard howling as the tears rolled down Sinclair’s cheeks. On that day, with the threat of a typhoon being hoisted, they decided to go deeper into Sinclair’s pain.

“Take a deep breath,” Judy said. “I will guide you to a time when you first felt this pain. I will be here with you. But first you will find your guide.”

Sinclair pulled the floral decorative pillow that supported her back and clasped it tightly in front of her. Then, she closed her eyes.

“Count backwards with me from 20.”

As Judy and Sinclair counted backward toward one, Sinclair’s eyelids drooped with the heaviness of excess skin. Sinclair had never been hypnotized before. When discussing this session, Sinclair didn’t think she’d be able to go under. Relaxation did not come easy sitting in front of anyone, even Judy. And looking for answers to uproot and deactivate landmines hidden in her heart added another complicated layer to this unfamiliar process.

“Sinclair, are you with your guide? Can you see your guide?”

Sinclair had met her guide before and remembers an ambient calmness radiating throughout her body when her guide appears.

“Yes. My guide is here.”

“You and your guide are here for your younger self.”

            With her eyes still shut, Sinclair nodded reflectively.

“Now feel the sadness that you experienced. Whatever creates that feeling in you that you are not loved.”


“What are you feeling?”

            In the silence of the room, something stirred in Sinclair.

“I feel something . . . something like pain radiating in my chest.”

Sinclair, in her hypnotic state, a state that had been akin to how she felt before she closed her eyes, brought herself back to a time where she felt that sadness. A pain suddenly appeared in her heart and around her chest. “Am I making this up,” she thought.

“I feel it again.”

She stretched each word in a soft and slow cadence. “What does it feel like? And where do you feel it?” Judy asked.

“I feel a pain in my heart.”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t see anything. I only see black.”

“Can you describe anything?”

Sinclair paused. She heard a voice. She waited a bit longer before she said anything. “Am I making this up or is this real?”

“I hear my mother’s voice yelling at me. She’s yelling my name.” 

“Can you see yourself or your mother?”

“No, I can’t see anything. I only hear her voice.”

“Do you know how old you are?”

As Sinclair said no, she heard or sensed a number and said, “Maybe six.”

“How do you feel?”

Sinclair hesitated again. “I feel scared. I feel sad and scared.”

“Is there anything you would like to say to your younger self?”

“I am here for you. I will guide you and protect you.” She felt the silliness of her words,

but carried on anyway. “We are on this journey together.”

“Is there anything your younger self needs?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a hug?”

“Give your younger self a hug.”

From there, Judy guided Sinclair in hugging her younger self and placing the little her inside her big heart. After guiding Sinclair out of the meditative state, Sinclair sat for a moment in silence.

Judy asked Sinclair about her mother’s yelling. Sinclair had thought she had resolved any feelings she had about how she was raised. She loved her mother beyond measure, and still, uncovered something that was hidden.

“It made me feel like I was in trouble. I still feel that way with people who aren’t my mother – like I will get in trouble for . . . for just breathing.”

There was a frightful crackle and roar. While the storm around them continued to rage, the one in Sinclair quelled. The shift was instant. It felt so simple and easy. Distracted by life, the needs of her family, of work, of . . . everything but her needs, she had lodged herself in a perpetual state of giving – to be good and not get in trouble.

The next morning, Sinclair woke as the sun began to creep into the sky. Before Marc and the children rose, she threw on her sports attire and quickly laced her shoes. The air outside, a cool October morning, tasted crisp and refreshing. Each long stride up the peak path in the shaded walkway toward the galleria increased her heart rate speedily. She’d walked this path before. She’d taken it with friends. She’d walked lazily in the rain. On this morning, for the first time, she walked this path with herself, seeing parts of the path and thick leafy foliage that had not been seen by her before. Remarkably, though it had always been there, Sinclair noticed the fork in the road. Holding her hand over her heart and her childhood-self folded and protected inside, the sureness of her path revealed itself.

During the next session, Sinclair smiled brightly. “I don’t have that scared feeling anymore. If I see a message or email from an angry person, it doesn’t bother me. I don’t know how it happened.”

Judy looked at her notes and said, “Don’t you remember what you said to your younger self?”

Sinclair perked up in her chair and said, “no.”

“You said, ‘I’m here for you. I will guide you and protect you. We are on this journey together.’” Judy smiled and said, “Isn't it wonderful that this is true?”


For Sinclair, Judy applied a combination of healing — emotional, spiritual and energetic — which through their coaching sessions allowed Sinclair to integrate practical changes in her everyday life.



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