I was over it, just over the job. The mother of my children showed me an ad for a mirimiri and romiromi course run by a man named Dion. I applied, but when he emailed back, I balked at the price and never went.
Fast forward eighteen months. It's three o'clock in the morning in Queenstown, after a staff do, and a woman I'd never met comes up to me.
"I'm a clairvoyant. My guides have been tugging on me to come and talk to you. You need to be doing the real work. You need to go see Dion."
I told her I didn't know any Dion. When I tracked her down a few days later, she gave me his full name: Dion Freeman. I typed it into my emails, and there was his reply, still sitting in my inbox.
When I met Dion, he could feel in his own body the issues I was carrying in mine. That stopped me. I’d been doing the same thing when I massaged the mother of my children, but I’d always thought it was all in my head.
After being guided there like that, I thought: okay, this is the path I take, then.