![]() An Unusual Form of Magic by Randy Peyser
Judy and Derek. Their love was like a storybook...with some of the pages missing. It's an unusual story, but then again, magic is an unusual phenomenon. He was a doctor; she tread the gerbil wheel in corporate America. In 1975, they became friends. Over time their relationship blossomed into hearts and flowers. One morning, Judy felt a strange sensation, a sort of tingling numbness. It started in her feet then spread upward throughout her body. Within days, at the tender age of 29, she was completely paralyzed from head to toe. Derek suspected a virus called Guillon-Barre. Judy was hospitalized. Quite matter-of-factly, the doctors told her that eventually she would regain the use of her body, but she would never be able to walk without crutches, or at the very least, a cane. Although Judy insisted they were wrong, the doctors encouraged her not to get her hopes up. But Judy Hall had a fighting spirit. As far as she was concerned, nothing would stop her from regaining her mobility. Meanwhile, Derek carried his paralyzed sweetheart to the park for picnics. Lying in the warm sun, Judy watched the bicyclers riding by. Back in her hospital bed, she'd visualize herself bicycling, her legs strong and sturdy. Even though she still needed round-the-clock care, after three months in the hospital Judy was discharged. In spite of his own harrowing schedule, Derek helped Judy every minute he possibly could. Regaining feeling in her arms, one evening Judy decided she wanted to paint. She asked Derek to bring her the old dry wall boards from the trash pile to use as her canvas. Derek wholeheartedly encouraged Judy to express her artistic self. Every day, she painted and exercised and visualized herself well. With time, she healed; no cane, no crutches, no limp. A few years ticked by. Judy hoped that someday she and Derek would walk down the aisle. One fateful morning she brought up the “c” word (you know, that word which sends men screeching out of a relationship faster than seventeen-year-olds popping wheelies in a drag race?). Derek just wasn't the marrying type. Judy's heart sunk. They had been through so much together. But what could she do? It wasn't in the cards. The couple drifted apart. Eventually, Judy married someone else. Many years passed, and ultimately, so did Judy's marriage. Meanwhile, she continued to paint with a joyful, childlike abandon. In 1993, both of Judy's arms began to hurt but no one could figure out why. After years of separation, she decided to contact someone who might be able to shed some light — Derek. Delighted to hear from her, the two resumed their friendship. But there was something very different about Derek now. He had become fragile and forgetful. He was very depressed. Judy knew her beloved friend needed help. Within months, Derek, who was eighteen years her senior, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. This time it was Judy's turn to be there for the man who had taken care of her almost twenty years prior. Derek withered. Eventually unable to communicate, Judy started to rely on her intuition. Day after day she sat in meditation by his bed. At some point, she began to feel the presence of something she could only identify as “beings” surrounding Derek. A few weeks later, much to her surprise, these same beings appeared in her dreams, filling her with love. Judy began incorporating these beings in her paintings. Over and over again, she felt them by Derek's bedside and saw them in her dreams.
Up to this point, the beings had become the focal point of Judy's artwork. But one day her work took a sudden unexpected turn. Attending an art show, she was stunned by the work of a student who had incorporated the image of an AIDS cell throughout a piece. Judy thought about the potential impact of this work. This student was implanting an image of unhealthy cells in the mind's eye of her viewers. Wouldn't it be far better to give viewers an image of healthy cells? With the help of a pathologist and a camera attached to a microscope, Judy obtained slides of healthy heart tissue taken from the heart of a man who had died from an accident. Enlarging the slides into giant photo negatives, she interspersed the images of the healthy cells throughout her work, painting under, around, or over them, but always leaving enough of the cell intact to maintain its integrity. Judy's first showing of her healthy heart, healing imagery was held in the rehabilitation room of a hospital's cardiac unit. Word quickly spread, and pretty soon people with AIDS, arthritis, chronic fatigue and other diseases were asking Judy to create artwork specific to their conditions. It seemed like a daunting task, so once again, Judy returned to meditation. She received the understanding that, regardless of anyone's condition, the heart cell was the only one she needed to incorporate in her artwork— somehow, the heart was the key to unlocking all of the other dimensions. Whether viewers like or dislike her work has been of no concern to the artist. She sees her paintings as a way to help ill people move toward wellness. To her that's all that matters. As for Derek, she still sits by the bedside of her beloved friend, communicating in meditation with the man whom she has shared so much of her life's journey. “Derek's given me the greatest gift,” says Judy. I have had the chance to peek into other dimensions and I've also matured as an artist. In return I give him unconditional love which he's never experienced before. “Our relationship is not your typical love story,” says Judy. “We have loved each other or taken care of each other at very different times throughout our lives...I’d call this a very unusual form of magic.” Judy Hall's work is now displayed in hospitals, oncology wards, heart rehabilitation centers, museums, universities and other healing centers throughout the country. Recently taking her images and combining them with the tones of a Bay Area sound healer named Sabina, Judy has also created “Imaging Wholeness,” a video to help people trigger their own self-healing. Web Site Design by Visions
Unlimited
|