Patti Conklin believes that when the universe began, a cacophony of tones, which we now identify as frequency, echoed throughout the universe, and they were both chaotic and highly ordered. This book is about how we can use that knowledge to impact our physical lives. Patti Conklin has learned that everything in the universe has a frequency, and that quantum physics goes hand in hand with metaphysics, even though we are taught that the two are separate. We are all made up of particles which vibrate, and these particles were created by a source . . . a God or Goddess she refers to as Father, which is greater than the sum total of us humans. In her work as a healer, she has learned from the work of Bruce Lipton on cellular biology and Richard Gerber on vibrational medicine. She has developed a toolbox, a method to usethe frequencies of light and sound to heal thousands of people. Here are numerous true examples of people who experience real changes in health, well-being, and spiritual transformation. Sometimes we believe pain is necessary to heal. We often don’t have the faith to believe miracles can happen in the blink of an eye. This book will help heal that illusion in an easy, comprehensive way. Whether you believe in science or faith, in truth theidea that they are separate is only a perception.
PATTI CONKLIN is a world-class energy healer, and a much sought-after facilitator who has shared her experiences and changed lives at hundreds of workshops, lectures, and conferences. She is a frequent keynote speaker at alternative healing conventions, including the annual meeting of the American Board of Hypnotherapy. She is the creator of ColorWorks, a visualization process that uses active vibration within your body to release or heal specific symptoms, emotions, or physical challenges. Even an episode of the X-Files was partially based on her life and experience.
Introducing the Introduction by D. T. Conklin
Introduction by Patti Conklin
1. Word Power
2. We Are What We Say
3. A Story Titled “My Life”
4. It’s About His Liver
5. Everyone Learns
6. Fear Creates Fear, Creates Disease
7. Perception is Everything
8. Truth and How It Relates to Perception
9. Reactions, Judgment and Discernment, Life and Limits
10. S.H.I.T. (Spiritual Human in Transition)
11. Live It, Don’t Wish It!
12. Intuition is Not a Twelve-Step Program
13. Personal Responsibility
14. Duality: Darkness and Light
15. Principles of Healing
16. The Act of Healing
17. Duality: East Meets West
18. Bits and Pieces/Soul Fragmentation
19. Traumatic Fragmentation
20. Faith and Belief
21. The Day God’s Train Stopped
22. The Other Side
23. What is God?
24. The Divine Spark
25. Understanding the Divine Spark
27. Cellular Cleansing
Appendix: Patti’s Version of Vibrational Medicine by Melanie Boock, R.N.
Daniel Conklin and Matthew Conklin, words cannot express my love and respect for you both. As my sons, you are my greatest accomplishments. I take great pride in the boys that you were and the men that you’ve become. You show a depth of flexibility, understanding, and acceptance of life that is a constant inspiration for me. My work took me to the road many days of your childhood, and you took my physical absence in stride. You missed me, but you never judged or held disappointment in me. You are the reason that this book exists; that my work exists.
Daniel, you provided sage guidance and have always boldly and assuredly expressed to me “your view” with a level of respect and love that even I find difficult to match. Matthew, you’ve provided day-to-day assistance in my work and without your hands-on help, your understanding of vibration, your compassion, and your keen ability to take over both administrative responsibilities and emotional support for those in need, my work would have stalled years ago. I honored beyond measure to be your mom.
Daniel, Matthew, Russell, and Tony: you each have given time, love, support, and expertise during your high school years, years when you would rather that I had dropped you at the mall to hang with friends, you instead assisted me in making products, answering phones, and helping out as much as you could. Your selflessness during that time is deeply appreciated and I honor each of you with love.
Vanessa, your female presence and nurturing as a big sister helped me to shape the men in our family into the wonderful, caring individuals they are today. Plus your culinary skills are the best this family’s ever seen! Michael, your big brother presence and priceless guidance to all of the boys with continued unwavering support well into their adult lives assisted them in painting their own canvas. Because of you both, Vanessa and Michael, all four boys were given encouragement that allowed them the esteem to establish their own ideas, dreams, goals, and ambitions. You both provided to them the gift of an open forum to flourish and transform into their own uniqueness; a gift that only older siblings can give. My love, thanks, and respect to you both overflow.
Howard, Kylen, and Emmett, my family continues to grow with you, my grandsons. One day, your dear Oma will share dozens of stories of your beautiful and colorful family. Some stories may make you laugh. Some will make you cry. Some will make your parents groan. These stories, though, are stories of your heritage; of your moms and dads, your cousins and friends, and your Oma. Take these stories and pull them in tight and dear, for it is in these stories that we may pass wisdom from our generation to yours.
As a woman, I have had wonderful adventures, relationships, and experiences which have only enhanced my gift and my ability to be who I am today. Tony Whitehead, thank you for your quips of wisdom, for believing in me and caring enough to provide gentle summaries and observations, which forced me to stop my train of thought and rethink how I view life. You taught me that it was okay to occasionally stop that strong desire to climb the mountain and learn to play and just be a woman. You will always be a giant in my little corner of the world. Thank you for our friendship and your continued input in my life. It is cherished.
Melanie Boock, Lane Diamond, Daniel Conklin, and all others who assisted me with this endeavor, thank you for working your way through this manuscript. As Dan so aptly asked with much humor, “Mom, do you even know what a paragraph is?”
Lastly, I’d like to thank each and every one of my friends, clients, physicians, scientists, and colleagues. All of you have assisted in my growth, my understanding of vibrational medicine and medical intuition. My ability to grow and expand my gift, my womanhood, my humanity has occurred because of you.
I give thanks to you, God, for this beautiful life that YOU have chosen to bless me with. I know I am not perfect, Father, far from it, but I endeavor to continue my growth and being of service to all.
Introducing the Introduction
by D. T. Conklin
I was recently asked what I love about my mother, Patti Conklin, and I answered with this: One of the things I was taught as a child, and something I still learn with every day that passes, is unconditional love. However, if I’m supposed to pick out things I love about her, as opposed to things I don’t love, doesn’t that then make it conditional? I think it does, and the reason I think that is because of my mother. She taught me what unconditional love means, even when it’s nearly impossible to describe.
So I could go on here and list things about her that I love, such as how she’s caring, and giving, and loving, and always puts other people first. I could talk about how I can call her at 3 a.m. and still know she’ll answer, no matter what’s going on. Or how she’s never judged me, always stood by me, and never for an instant stopped loving me. Sure, I love these things about her. But what I love more is what she’s done for my life, simply by being who she is—and that’s not something that can be stuffed into a single word, or three words, or even a thousand. That’s a state of being, and as such it’s nearly indescribable.
The things I love about her exist through a lifetime, not defined by words.
What is a life? It’s a series of stories, a series of experiences, all crammed together to form something greater than those pieces. In a way, it’s a lesson. It’s something and nothing, always screaming, always quiet, and it’s something we can’t label. This book is hers.
by Patti Conklin
I’m not sure how to start this, except to go to the beginning. That’s the way of stories, isn’t it?
My life changed forever at the age of seven. I was upstairs, alone in my bedroom and playing with a piece of rope, cat’s cradle, which was a favorite alone time game, when a white mist seeped from the walls. Like a deep fog it rolled from the paint, the wood beneath, the base of the windowsill. It slid forward, at first silent and white, but within seconds sound and color drifted from it. I fell to my knees, not because I was scared, but because it was the right thing to do. I’d not felt that type of serenity before, but I’ve felt exactly the same way each and every time I’ve had what I classify as a visitation since then. A male voice, who I’ve since always called Father, told me three things;
1. My greatest growth years would be between thirty-eight and forty-two.
2. My greatest work would be between forty-two and sixty-two.
3. My purpose would be to teach people how to become insubstantial without transitioning.
Yeah, I had no idea what that meant.
And yet life went on.
At the age of twelve, I realized my parents couldn’t understand me. So I stayed away from home more and more, sitting on the fabulous street corners of Ithaca, NY, seeing people’s words form in their brains, and then watching them zigzag into their bodies. Of course, I didn’t know that normal people didn’t see these things. nI was . . . different.
Skip further ahead.
I married at nineteen, and had my sons Daniel and Matthew at twenty-four and twenty-five. A few years after they were born, my husband and I divorced. He was a good man, and still is, but it was clear we were never a match. In my view of the world, we had come together for our sons. I believe that the soul chooses the parents for the lessons of the current incarnation, and that people come together for that very purpose.
I have a hundred different stories I could tell about myself, many of which I will relate in the following pages of this book. You see, stories have a greater importance than we realize. They teach us substantial lessons, but they also teach the insubstantial. They allow us to look at another’s experience and apply it to our own lives. More than that, they allow us to delve deeper into ourselves. They allow us to ask questions. They allow us to grow. And I believe my greatest life lessons stemmed from my sons, Daniel and Matthew.
This introduction, which gives a glimpse of my life, is best focused on them.
Daniel, the eldest, comes first. He watched everything as a baby—the way steam rose from a pot of boiling water, the bees zipping around in a garden of roses and lilacs, down to the way pieces of a puzzle fit together to form a whole. He spoke in full sentences at the age of fourteen months, and was Incredibly articulate for his age.
At the time, I hadn’t yet thought about past lives or Karma, what was right or what was wrong . . . it didn’t make sense that people reincarnated.
One day, he was wiping off the breakfast bar with a sponge, one of his favorite things to do. On and on he wiped, and as he continued, I finally said, “Dan, I think you’ve done a great job. It looks like it’s all done.”
To which he replied, “My other Mommy always let me wipe it as much as I wanted.”
His other . . . ? “Who is your other Mommy?”
He laid the sponge down and looked me straight in the eye, and it was the first time a chill ever coursed down my back. “Obviously I need to explain something to you. It took God a little bit of time to get you and Daddy ready for me, so he gave me another Mommy and Daddy to live with.”
I must admit, I gasped a bit, because it had taken us five years to conceive him.
“I still remember her hugs,” he said, wrapping his arms around himself. “I really don’t remember my other Daddy, but I remember her hugs. Her hugs . . . I was nine when the car hit me, but it didn’t hurt. You and Daddy were ready.” I don’t know what else I can say about that; it speaks for itself.
Today he’s the sage, the one with an insight that even I haven’t developed, and I constantly learn from him. He has a nasty habit of looking at me, immediately recognizing a problem, and giving me the solution. I don’t always like it. Indeed, I rarely like it. But because I hold such deep respect for him, I always contemplate what he says, not that I always follow what he suggests. Sometimes it takes me weeks or months to realize he’s right, but, more often than not, he is.
He was incredibly protective of his brother, Matthew, who came sixteen months later. He would proudly, and very seriously, announce to anyone who came to the door that “Meem” was sleeping, and they’d better not wake him up.
Matthew was six weeks premature, so he didn’t develop as quickly as his brother. He was wired differently. He hadn’t received my sight; rather, he shared my energy capabilities. Even from a very young age, he could touch where I was hurting, and the pain would stop.
When he was a young man, about twelve or so, I was working with a board member who was in a lot of elbow pain from wheeling around in her wheelchair. He came into the room and placed his hands on my shoulder, and a massive heat struck my shoulder. I looked at him and suggested that he create intent to allow that energy to go down my arm into my hands in order to assist me.
He gave me an angry look and said, “I’m new at this, you know!”
All I could do was laugh.
Skip ahead again.
My life, my work, has its downsides. I was gone a lot, and I’m sure my sons dealt with it in ways I’m unaware of. I will never forget when Matt was in high school; I believe he was a junior. He’d left for school, and I received a call from a woman who was dying—I had promised her that I would honor a request to be there as she passed, and I booked a flight to San Francisco.
So I did what any mother would do: I left a note on the fridge.
That evening, I was boarding the redeye back to Atlanta, and called home to check on things. Matthew answered, and I asked him how his day was. He said, “Well, Mom, glad you asked. I had the worst day of my life, and the only thing that kept me together was knowing I could come home, and that you’d put your arms around me, and everything would be okay . . . And you’re not here.”
I cried a lot that night. He was right. I wasn’t there. And, while he wasn’t angry, his point was well taken.
Daniel is co-founder of Evolved Publishing, and has written his own book, Eulogy, an epic fantasy. It’s humorous to me, because while he doesn’t agree, so much of his writing is derived from questions he asked as a child. Could God actually have a father? What if we’re just pawns that He moves around?
Matthew is the closest to me in the gift of energy, and he’s been the executive director of Healing Within for many years. He’s my go-to guy when I need help with workshops, live video, or cellular cleansings. His energy, his ability to help someone through an emotional process, takes my breath away. While he doesn’t feel that this will be his life work, he is definitely my lifeline when I need it.
I’ve called myself many things: mother, daughter, sister, lover, student, employee, boss, hypnotherapist, light worker, medical intuitive, vibrational mediator. In all of this, what I’ve come to realize at fifty-five years old, is that the purpose, this quest I feel I am on, driven by what Father first told me, “Help people become insubstantial without transitioning,” is really, “Help people become unconditional without having to die to do it.”
Obviously, I am not perfect. I screw up, and I’ve enduredhard lessons in order to grow—I’ve lost friendships because of my behavior; I’ve lost lovers because I wasn’t able to put my work aside. Yet I do understand the need to continually ask myself, “Am I in my integrity? Am I being honest with myself? Am I out of ego and judgment?”
Of course, I could be totally wrong . . . .
Father could be sitting up there, watching me, shaking his head and saying, “What the heck is she doing down there? I simply asked her to wash the windows!”
And so my story begins.