OM Made Me a Better Healer


When I discovered OM around age 30, I was pretty firmly locked into the interwoven identities that I had chosen for myself. Healer. Festival-goer. Burner (as in Burning Man). Though I was happy, I had a façade that matched the idea of what I thought healers and coaches were supposed to be. We had to have our act together, and we never showed our messy side.

What’s more, something big was missing: a fully grounded and felt experience of my physical body. I was living on a spiritual plane, from my heart chakra upward—and I didn't even realize it. I was ignoring and disengaged from everything below my heart region, and that was limiting me, because I didn't have access to my full power.

From an early age, I knew I wanted to be some kind of a healer.  When grownups asked me, “What do you want to be?” I would say, “A dance therapist.” I had no idea where that came from, as no one had ever uttered those words to me. When my mom’s friends came over, I would give them massages, and they would say, “My God, your kid!” It felt so good to be able to help people, and I could always feel when somebody was in pain and needed help.

I went on to study various healing modalities, earning a master’s degree in Traditional Chinese Medicine and becoming a licensed acupuncturist. I became a ThetaHealer®, a Reiki master, and a strategist in Human Design, which is a study of energetic auras. I was on my path and I loved it.

But by my late-20s, I was totally checked out from my body and my desire. I was in Lala-Land because I was living in the theta brainwave. On a certain level that was okay, because I was tapping into unconditional love. And when you're living in unconditional love, you don't actually need anything. “No sex? I'm good with that,” I thought. “No depth of intimacy? I can work with this—because I'm connected to the Creator of All That Is.”

So, on the astral plane, I was fine, and everything was good. But what was missing for me was deep and true human connection, and an ability to feel into my body. The festival-going me, who could hook up with men, wanted real connection—yet I didn't know how to have it. I wanted deeper intimacy yet didn't know that it actually existed. 

Someone in my sphere told me about OM and I got curious. I was also super resistant. The day before I was going to try OM, my neck went out. I woke up and couldn't move. I went to a friend’s house, and she worked on me with infrared sauna and sound healing treatments. It felt like a team effort to bypass my fear. 

I felt insecure about pulling down my pants. How was I going to let a stroker, a stranger, touch my genitals? I remember going to the bathroom like three times before OMing, just to check myself out. Was everything okay down there? What put me at ease were the people who were practicing OM. I felt seen by them and safe with them. So I was willing to give it a try.

That first time OMing, I didn’t feel much. I was numb almost the whole time, except for about three seconds, when I felt a little jolt of electricity. It was a new sensation and very surprising—and it was over in a flash. After the OM, I felt that something was wrong with me. It was my pattern to feel defective or broken. Why else did I not feel pleasure? 

It was a few weeks later before I tried again. There was a little bit more sensation, but my second OM was similar to my first. In those early days, I couldn't tell where the sensation was, and I didn’t know if I should ask for more or less pressure. Over time, that skill developed. My voice got unlocked. I learned to give myself permission to ask for what I wanted. I also knew more about what I wanted, because I was learning to feel it in my body.

Around that time, I was studying Vedic meditation. I would drive from east LA to Venice for all-day meditation classes. In the car, my entire body would be buzzing with electricity. I knew it was from OMing. I was aware of my body in an entirely new way—it was like another world had opened up for me. 

From there, things began to change. OM became a deconditioning process for me—peeling back all the layers of conditioning from society and our families. The model I got from my mother was, How much can you deny your own needs? The more you can deny them, the better. OM flipped that on its head, because it’s about expressing and following your needs and desires. It cleared out the shame I had around having desire in the first place. 

Then there were all the teen and women’s magazines I had read. They were filled with fairy tales and terrible advice such as, “Models never leave the house without doing their hair, because you never know who is going to snap a photo of you.” These crazy ideas were floating around in my psyche.  

OM strips everything away. You get down to the bare bones of connection, and you don’t get tied up in illusion. It's just a finger and a clitoris in a nest, having an experience. You can see where you might go into a fairy tale—say, if you feel like you’re falling in love with your stroker. You can see that’s just a story. There is something freeing about realizing that.

Ultimately, you can see, Oh, this is who I am. Not everything else that I've been conditioned by society to believe. I can just be me, and I am inherently worthy of connection and intimacy.

But the biggest gift of OM is that it has made me a better acupuncturist and a better healer. That’s because I am able to feel in my body what is resonant and what is not resonant. When we're feeling in our body, we can always recognize truth—what is and isn't congruent. We can always steer ourselves toward our highest and best self. 

This is what I teach my clients now—how to ground down into their bodies and the earth so they can gain access to this superpower. That way, they can create the lives they really want. That’s what healing is all about. It’s about having the power to create our own reality.