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Excerpted from Dr. Judith Orloff's Guide to Intuitive Healing by Judith Orloff, M.D. Copyright © 2000 by Judith Orloff, M.D. Excerpted by permission of Times Books, a division of Random House, Inc.  All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.  HTML and web pages copyright © by SpiritSite.com.

"Intuitive healing in a prison? Approved by the warden?"

Judith Orloff, Judith Orloff's Guide to Intuitive Healing, Part 1

The twilight shimmered violet, bathing the New England hills. Just overhead I could see the planet Jupiter radiant beneath a sliver of pale summer moon. A magical sight, strengthening me. The early evening, still warm, was balanced between light and shadow--as we all are--pointing me toward what was to come.

I was on my way to lead a workshop on intuitive healing for 150 inmates at a women's correctional institution in Connecticut. I'd been invited to speak by a prison caseworker and gifted intuitive, Marcelle, who'd read my book Second Sight. On the phone we connected instantly. She was tough and funny, with the voice of a street kid straight out of Brooklyn. "These women have blown it," she said. "They've made terrible choices about their lives. Come teach 'em to listen to the wisdom inside. They'll love it. It'll do 'em good." I was honored. I jumped at the chance. Once more I was amazed by where life was taking me. Intuitive healing in a prison? Approved by the warden? During my medical training at UCLA, could I ever have imagined such a moment?

I'm not saying I didn't feel anxious about going there. I'd once visited a high-security men's prison--an enlightening but unnerving experience. I know it's irrational, but whenever I get around people in government uniforms, I feel guilty, like I've done something wrong. Itís a reflex. Even if I'm not speeding, I squirm whenever a police car trails me. Plus, I have to admit the mere thought of getting locked up and being told what to do throws me into a stone cold panic. I guess it's a combination of a touch of claustrophobia, my dread of arbitrary rules and regulations, and my need to know that I can escape instantly from any situation if I choose to leave. I'm always the one who likes to drive my own car places ... just in case.

My tension eased as I wound up to the entrance. Surrounding the prison were acres of lush grass lined with umbrella-shaped crab apple trees and clusters of fragrant knotty pine.

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