Body shots

Local soul healer uses flesh as conduit for self-realization

Health intuitive Jane St. Croix uses the body to explore layers of consciousness.

Health intuitive Jane St. Croix uses the body to explore layers of consciousness.

SN&R Photo By Nicholas Miller

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Jane St. Croix looks at me like she has X-ray vision. Her gaze is at once gentle but penetrating, slowly scanning the length of my body to discern my physical and emotional health.

St. Croix, a “health intuitive,” explains the “four separate levels of beingness.” Pulling out a simply drawn diagram, she points out where “layers of consciousness” correspond in the physical body. She starts at the base level of consciousness, the world of form, which includes our bodies and desires. Then we ascend through the invisible world, in order to “get access to our beingness, where all of our healing takes place.”

She says the goal is in “honoring ourselves as human beings as well as divine creations.” I settle into my chair and try to relax—this could be tricky.

“Any headaches? Sinus problems? Allergies?” she asks.

I shake my head no.

“You’re carrying a little bit of stress,” she says, eyeing my neck and shoulders. “You certainly are goal- and deadline-oriented, which can bring on some mental fog.” (Ah, the life of a columnist!) She observes lower. “Heart looks good, stomach looks good, female organs look real strong.” (I give myself a mental high-five.)

“You look very strong,” she says, meeting my eyes. “Do you feel strong?”

This is the way St. Croix works. After “reading” my energy, she asks direct questions, and I answer as honestly and quickly as possible. With no room or reason to hide, I gradually open up, even going so far as to—gasp!—cry.

“You have to recognize that really it’s not anything happening outside of you,” she says on the issue of trust (which, as I now know, really only means trusting myself). “All of your experience of life is flowing from inside of you.”

This woman’s speaking my language, so I open up even more and divulge an old sob story: My mother was my original “betrayal” figure, and now I feel simultaneously resentful and protective of her.

“We see the world as mirrors,” she tells me. “So what you’re seeing in your mom is your own fragility and breakability.”

We begin talking about body-mind-spirit integration, and I perk up a bit. After assuring me of my loveliness, she reminds me that we need to “slow ourselves down, because until we are able to get comfortably seated in our physical vehicle, it’s really hard to put the mind at rest.

“There is great wisdom in allowing ourselves to be fully present and sink deeply into that body consciousness.”

She tells me patience is my biggest obstacle, in light of my relentless desire to accomplish, then asks what I see as trouble points.

“I always feel like I should be getting it by now,” I say.

“What should you be getting?”

“Clarity,” I reply.

“What’s wrong with being muddy?”

Without thinking, I respond, “It’s messy!” and dissolve into tears. I do believe we’ve punctured my protective membrane.

“Your soul is only trying to express itself, and through our human bodies, there’s a marvelous feedback system that we wired ourselves into when we came to Earth,” she says.

She points out that the logical, ambitious and practical “personality structure” I have taken on is really my dad’s (no kidding). It’s time to let go of the drive to please him and open up to my true creative, fluid and gentle feminine energy.

For the last half-hour of our 90-minute session, St. Croix performs “energy work” on me. She explains that, as she does with everything, she’s simply “acting as a conduit for the higher consciousness.” I lie down, and she places her hands on the “energy points” throughout my body: bottom of feet, knees, stomach, chest, heart, neck, third eye and crown of head. The idea is that with focus, my energy will naturally balance and harmonize, helping me let go of whatever I don’t need and drawing in “healing light.”

By the time she’s finished, I feel a thrumming calm throughout my entire body. On the way out, I hug her, grateful for providing me the time and space to more deeply meet myself.