Introduction: The first time I properly met Judith McIntyre she was in her bedroom over-looking the Northern Ridge in Goonellabah.
She was sitting upright in a hospital bed that had recently replaced her queen-sized bed. The feeling in the room was very still. Late afternoon light was streaming in through a large glass window and with the sweeping view of the hills it felt as if we were in the valley itself, floating in a rural landscape.
She was (and is) experiencing the advanced stages of Cancer. I was there to do an interview with her about her experience of dying but was completely unprepared for just how deep the healing would be speaking with her that day. I have never been afraid of death but I have never been comfortable around death and dying either. What do you say to someone that is facing such a huge event? How do you begin to relate?
Judith took away all my awkwardness with the depth of her presence. When I greeted her hello, she pulled me close and hugged me (it seemed, she was reassuring me!). As I spoke to her I felt held in her gaze and in her bright, bright eyes.
A day later I read this blog you are about to read, about the first time she met Serge Benhayon, and it seemed to me as though her writing was coming from heaven, a heaven she has made in her own life.
This is the first in a series of articles by Judith that she has written to reflect the possibility that we can truly live while being near to the end (of this time round). I trust you will deeply appreciate this writing, this woman, and all that she brings.
Rebecca Baldwin June 5th 2014
By Judith McIntyre, Goonellabah, Australia
Before I met Serge Benhayon my life had been unravelling for a few years.
I had made some choices late in life for my own emancipation. Inadvertently I denied myself almost every familiar support while facing major challenges:
- I was divorced after nearly forty years. And it was not amicable.
- I had little confidence in dealing with financial or legal matters or in standing up for myself and now in order to gain financial independence, all of these were necessary.
- I had been a suburbanite who enjoyed the city and now lived alone on a rural property. Since I lacked experience and energy to maintain the property I had to pay substantially for upkeep.
- I could sell the property but not until the property settlement, which was dragging on.
- I chose after persuasive prompting from my spiritual teacher to dedicate my property to be used as a centre for her programs. I effectively denied myself a personal nest at a time when I greatly needed one and made myself a caretaker with financial responsibilities. As it turned out the teacher came and used the property for two weeks in two years.
- I was isolated, many hundreds of kilometres from family and friends. I knew almost no one locally.
- I was physically debilitated from chronic low energy and digestive problems. My health despite many personal efforts and many practitioners had been worsening for years.
Up until then, being an optimistic person, I felt that somehow I would eventually be able to create a new life and rebuild my health, probably once the arduous settlement was complete. So I kept putting one foot in front of the other, trudging on… This too shall pass.
To sum it up I was lonely, struggling, ‘homeless’, exhausted, and increasingly disillusioned with my spiritual path. Then, in retrospect, unsurprisingly, I got cancer.
The diagnosis changed everything. I felt cracked open. All the spiritual wisdom I had been acquiring seemed useless. I was deeply humbled. After all, what did I know about life? How had I spent it? I could be on my way out of this world quite soon. I had a dream about being in an airless cave and another about being in a tomb with no possible way out… ALthough I am very intelligent, what bothered me most was that I could die knowing nothing, that I had wasted my precious time. I prayed to know what was true.
I was recovering before further surgery when I decided to venture out of my usual seclusion to attend an afternoon session of the Writers Festival. I wanted to hear Serge Benhayon speak. I was curious about him because of contradictory reports. I had heard two men on separate occasions praise him highly for his treatment and counselling. I had only ever heard women recommend healers before. I also had heard a woman criticise him and the Esoteric Breast Massage modality that, according to a pamphlet I picked up, he had inspired. She had never met him or had a treatment but was convinced he was abusive to women. Later I would reflect on how far off the mark people can be when they judge without any first-hand experience or evidence.
In my fragile state I found the marquee where Serge Benhayon was speaking. A series of things then happened that felt extraordinary, even magical.
- First, there were no empty seats, the marquee was full with overflow on the sides, but someone got up and left right near where I stood so I could simply sit down. No need even to climb past anyone.
- Although his talk was on the topic of words and energy, as soon as I sat down I was surprised to hear him discuss breast cancer, my personal looming concern.
- Then, Serge’s appearance was understated, his voice very easy to listen to and he seemed comfortable in his body. There was nothing obviously attention-grabbing about him as a speaker and yet the whole tent was palpably still, listening.
- It was more like being in a meditation group than the usual Writers Festival, highly mentally-stimulated, coffee-buzzed, celebrity-following crowd.
- He spoke with frankness and common sense. When had I ever heard such simple wisdom delivered so effectively?
- Most speakers reveal personality or a public persona. Serge seemed to simply present a message. Who was this man? Why did he have such presence?
Serge Benhayon spoke about truth: about being authentic and saying what was true for us.
At the end, I wanted to buy his book. I went towards the front with that in mind but just then he came down to the aisle I was in. He turned toward me and as he looked at me, inspired by his message to say and express the truth, I simply told him that I had breast cancer. He said to me that what I needed was deep self-nurturing. I didn’t know what that meant at that time, but I knew I wanted to know.
With only a momentary conversation I felt that he had met me. He met me where I was, broken open, detached from the world, where no family member, friend or professional, however caring or supportive, had been able to come.
I was standing on the edge of eternity and apparently he knew the territory and was at home there.
When he signed my book, although I had heard that he had a long waiting list, I told him that I wanted to see him. When he heard my cancer was not in remission, he told me to call for an appointment. On the day I called there was a cancellation and he fit me in straight away. I began to see him weekly for support through my cancer treatment. From the first session I had with him my fear levels plummeted and I began to feel at home with myself and my situation.
For many years I had believed that the kingdom of God is within me and for three decades I had practised meditation as a means to experience it but only when I met Serge Benhayon and experienced the Gentle Breath Meditation and my own inner heart did I find that kingdom.
I learned how to stop creating my own misery and how to deeply self-nurture.
Alice A. Bailey in The Reappearance of the Christ writes that:
“It is only in desperation and when completely at the end of his tether that the disciple finds his way into that Kingdom and is ready to relinquish the old ways. What is true of the individual must also be true, on a larger scale, of humanity.”
These are desperate times for humanity: we have natural disasters, war, famine, rising numbers of refugees, rising rates of cancer and other diseases, the breakdown of connection and trust at every level from the family to corporations to national governments and international relations.