A beautiful healing journey

I was always scared of my spirituality

How do you even define that word: Spirituality? In recent years the ‘well to do’ gurus of the Internet claimed that religion was not spirituality, and spirituality was not religion. This reassured me, but there was no place for any of these in my life .

I had read of so many atrocities done in the name of a Holy One, and Indiana Jones’ classic movieRaiders of the Lost Ark” showed me that you could pull a man’s heart in a frenzied orgasmic ceremony. When I discovered the gut wrenching reality of the trans-atlantic slave trade I lost all hope in humanity. How could I even be spiritual?

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Sick to the stomach

I felt like vomiting when I read the testimonies of survivors. The pillage of villages, destruction of families, sleeping with rotting corpse and the tortures if you even survived the journey. I felt their chains on my ankles and struggled in a daze, reliving their pains for months. I just knew.

I had recovered some memories of my own struggles childhood sexual abuse. I was in the process of reconnecting with my feelings through some different forms of body work. As I did, unexpected images and stories started to manifest. I didn’t want any woo-woo in my life so I kept these for my journal.

With a Vulcan mind of a doubting Thomas I sought knowledge. I read about Indian’s chakras, Auras, Chinese’s meridian system and the new scientific approach of quantum healing as in Barbara Brennan’s  “Hands of Light”. I had to admit that civilisations that had centuries of practice might have had some experiences beyond our materialist society.


I began palm reading in college, I think, as a safe way to create contact, any contact, with another human being. I never had read a book on it and knew nothing about lines. I have no idea how it all started, but there I was, holding hands and telling stories! Girls would like it more than boys, so I ended up sharing more with them.

I developed a system of analyzing forms and shapes, squeezing the thickness of the palm and the tightness of the skin. I felt, closed my eyes and let my intuition speak. I must have been good because they kept asking me. I wasn’t predicting the future, instead I called it more of a psychological profile: where the person has been, their present challenges, and sometimes what would be possible outcomes. The less I knew the person the better I was. Total strangers were more fun to explore, until I came too close.

Late one evening, I was having a beer with my good Yeti friend from the art academy. The noisy smoke filled bar was full so we sat on tall stools along the wall. His visiting friend came along and wanted a reading, so I obliged. A few moments into the telling I had to stop as I saw to much evidence of suicide. I blurted out other information and kept that one to myself. Later my friend confirmed that she had just attempted suicide, which is why she was now travelling. The hair lifted on my back.


Great  responsabilities

With great powers comes great responsibility’ says Stan Lee’s Spiderman. I got scared! What did I tap into? I chose to be really careful and do less of these ‘readings’. As I continued my insights got even more specific, often making my listeners cry as I released unspoken pain from their life. I didn’t understand, but it gave me a way to connect, to literally get under their skin.

I refused to analyse it. It was there and it didn’t make any rational sense. I starved for connection so chose to stifle all information about it. This and any other woo-woo I experienced: I could see auras with object/colors in them, I could actually feel and caress their contours. I also had personal stories of past lives as an Aztec priest and a North American Shaman. Both ended tragically with me renouncing ever using my spirituality again.

Refusing, stifling, renouncing…. this was my way of life until I held Yorbely in my arms in Guatemala. As a humanitarian clown I finally let go and accepted my vulnerability. I had abandoned myself for so long, that I felt the world owed me. I was angry of being ignored, that is, until I connected with someone who had it worse than me. Then my heart opened up.

Before the rooster crows, you will disown me….

As I am lying on the table her hands moves from my skull to my chest. Anna is an amazing osteopath. After a good half hour of treatment suddenly my lungs opened up and filled with gorgeous air. In my minds eye I ‘feel’ a birth, a baby struggling in the birth canal. Is it me? I don’t know.

The baby is suffocating, he is dying. Is it my mother’s birth, my grandmother’s? There is no air. The image morphs into another birth, this time,  a stillborn. I feel the grieving family, and I tell them it’s all right. It’s ok. It’s time to let go.

I feel at peace, I can breathe now, I’ve let go.

Osteopaths do talk about cell memory, epigenetic and trans-generational memories. My mother often spoke of ‘suffocating in relationships’, worked as a nurse with premature babies and can never hug any longer than a few seconds. I have observed that in our life we tend to chose the healings we need. My mom still needs it.

Bigger than you and me

I felt to jump from the balcony, to run away and fill myself with sweets and caffeine. I was running from my life, escaping asphyxiation. Sometimes in the middle of the night I would literally wake up unable to breathe. I had these recurring nightmares of suffocating under the sand and of drowning. Now I feel I know why.

My healing from the rapes was something that happened in my present life. I’ve learned forgiveness and was able to re-open my heart. I have reconnected with unconditional love and as a humanitarian am able to bring it to the world.

I had no conscious awareness of how much I was suffocating; no idea that I might be carrying forward a trauma that didn’t belong to my lifetime. And yet we know so little about our identity. As a species our birth has been so sanitized and dehumanized that we have lost the connection from our ancestors. I did come out of my mothers womb, literally. So yes, why wouldn’t I also carry the memories of something bigger than her and me?

A beautiful healing journey

It’s the end of the line for one family trauma, the one of suffocation. It has gone through it’s healing, it’s release. At the end of next month I will be starting another healing journey as I embark on a Vipassana retreat: 10 days of silent meditation to became  aware  of  our inner self.

As Socrates said: “Know Thyself” , and Aristotle to add: “Knowing yourself is the beginning  of all  wisdom”

I look forward to discover more of who we are as living beings. As I heal my life, and my personal generational lineage, I am excited to bring more love and healing in our shared humanitarian lineage.

I love you all

Start the conversation by writing your thoughts in the ‘Leave a Reply’ section below!

Guy Giard

If telling my story can offer a beacon of hope to those who are locked away behind dark walls of protection, then I feel I have started to accomplish my task.   

Guy  Giard is a speaker and the author of the upcoming book ‘LOVE’s healing journey’ How to Triumph over life’s adversities


Dr “Patch” Adams writes about Guy Giard: “I truly feel his passion to live radiant, using clowning as a tool to help midwife a loving world. To hear of his own transformation to being a loving soul will inspire others to try it on.

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