Kaity Kasper


Healing Trip #2 - Sedona, Arizona

I don’t tend to think of myself as a procrastinator.  I don’t do the best work with a deadline looming.  Maybe that’s why I love my appellate practice so much – the schedule is set and you know what you are dealing with and I feel like I have time to really craft the arguments I plan to make with room to marinate and revise and polish (and repeat).

So it’s a little surprising that I let this recap wait until just before a board a plane for my next healing trip. 

Truth be told, I’m still not entirely sure how to tell you about Sedona in any way that is really going to translate.  Magic doesn’t lend itself to words very well, and that creates a bit of a situation. 

But I’m going to try.

*   *   *

I’m no stranger to Arizona.  I ran my very first half marathon in Phoenix – where my sister-in-law lived.  Evan and I visited her there at least once a year – usually more.  Together we’d explored a good bit of the surrounding parts of the state, covering more desert than I would have imagined I’d find myself in during my youth.

Work brings me to Tucson each year.  I’ve spent time in Flagstaff.

But Sedona had never made it into my travels.  Honestly, it was never on my radar until this year, when it started coming up in conversation consistently.  So when my intuitive was heading there over my birthday, at the half-way point between CA125 measurements, I took that as a sign that I was supposed to head there with him.  He has a network of healers there that I wanted to tap into. 

Basically, I decided that if we were really going down the road of healing myself without the help of western medicine, it was time to call in the big guns.

*   *   *

We drove in as the sun rose higher and higher over the mountains.  One of my oldest friends had tagged along and having him in the passenger seat was good for my soul.  The drive gave me the chance to try to explain to someone exactly what it was that we were hoping to manage in Sedona.  It proved harder to articulate than I imagined.

I’d been told to expect to feel the energy in Sedona, but I didn’t really think I would.  As we pulled in to park below the Chapel of the Holy Cross – lighting candles and saying a few prayers for a successful journey – it felt like my physical being was vibrating at a cellular level.  That’s the only way I can explain it. 

For as long as I can remember I’ve known that I am a sensitive creature.  Its only in the past several months that I have come to discover how energetically sensitive I also am.  While this can be a wonderful thing – allowing me to sort between the people and situations that may not be beneficial for me – all the years of trying to ignore what my core was telling me based on the energy it was exposed to did a lot of harm.  Now I was bringing something of a baby form – a form that had been raked over, scabbed up, and that had only recently exposed its new flesh – to the intense energy of Sedona’s atmosphere.  It was a lot to take.

Less than twelve hours into my time there I began to experience crippling pain through both wrists and into my palms.  It persisted for half of the trip.  I finally asked Ron about it.

“What did you do when they would access your port for chemotherapy?” he asked me.

It hit me as if a rock had fallen from the red peaks surrounding us – I had always gripped the arms of the chair I was in.  The Sedona energy was moving the fear and resignation associated with going through chemo from my body the same way it went in – through my hands.

Every time I touched the earth I could feel the energy of the land move through my hands, up my arms, and into my heart.  I was told by many healers that most people feel nothing at all.  For another large group, the sensation stops at their elbows.  I was able to feel it move as far as it did because of all the work I had done leading up to landing in Sedona and how open my heart was to the experience. 

I’ll take it.

Feeling that amount of energy was amazing, but also exhausting.  By the time my plane headed back to RVA I was ready.  My body was tired. 

*   *   *

While my cousin and my intuitive were planning to stay at a hotel in the middle of Sedona, I wanted to see if I could find something different for my bestie and me.  Within my first five minutes on Air BNB I came upon a yurt that sounded perfect – it was situated on property that was designed around the principles of sacred geometry.


I have been working with sacred geometry since two weeks after my surgery.  What is it?  In very, very basic terms, sacred geometry ascribes spiritual and vibrational values to shapes and numbers, and uses them to help shift and heal energy.  I use numerical algorithms to release stuck emotions and sleep with a series of numbers and shapes facing my bed to release trauma overnight.  I was not sold on this whole idea when I started using it, but I have really become a believer.

So I hopped on the chance to sleep in a space designed around these principles.  It was a fantastic decision.  The yurt was tucked away in the red rocks, about 20 minutes outside of Sedona.  I saw more stars than I can remember ever seeing.  I felt completely at peace.  It was beautiful.

*   *   *

My intuitive – Ron – has played a central role in my healing team since all this began.  He was the first person to ask me outright if I felt like I really needed additional chemotherapy.  He has walked this road right along with me – but from a distance, since he is in Connecticut.

The first time I got to lay eyes on Ron was when I walked into the tiny breakfast spot we met at before our hike together.  I don’t know if I can adequately describe for you what it feels like to finally hug someone who has been through hell with you.  All I can say is that I am getting teary typing to you about it.

Getting to finally work hands-on with Ron was amazing.  He took our little group (me, my dear friend, and my cousin) on a hike into one of the vortices and performed a healing session with us there.  He showed us how to spot places where the vortex energy had twisted and mangled the roots of trees and shrubs in the area and guided us through tapping into the energy ourselves to encourage our own healing.  It was remarkable.

Later that day I had a chance to do my first in-person one-on-one session with Ron, and we went much deeper into some stuff than we have in the past. 

Working with an intuitive is kind of like seeing a therapist, if you’ve ever done that.  But with less talking at times.  Sometimes we go an entire session without speaking more than 5 minutes.  Sometimes we chat nearly the entire time.  This session, Ron went into some past life and lineage energy and that resulted in a lot of conversation between us about my family history and where much of the energy that was still impacting me stemmed from.  Each time we finish a session I leave not only feeling lighter physically, but like I have gained a greater understanding about why I respond to certain situations in the ways that I do.  Much like the 12 steps have done, my work with Ron has made me much more compassionate toward myself and have helped me to understand that I have been operating from the best place I was able given the family situation I was raised in and my past life experiences.  It has also helped me to rise above the victim mentality that I held onto for so long (and that contributed to my disease) and to release that energy in favor of something brighter.

The last thing I had the chance to do with Ron was participate in a group healing.  He conducts these in Connecticut often and has been including me remotely, but this was my first time really getting to experience it.  For nearly four hours, a group of fifteen of us sat in meditation together as Ron used the energy of the communal conscious to help us heal together.  When we were done, I was more exhausted than I can remember being in a very, very long time  

*   *   *

During a small lull we had between sessions, my cousin took me to a park that had been built by Buddhists in the area.  It is home to a Buddhist Stupa, as well as a medicine wheel, and several areas to meditate.  In our short time there we walked the Stupa and had a few minutes to sit quietly, but it was a quick visit.

The next morning, I found myself with my only real pocket of free time during the trip, so I decided to head back.  As I climbed the short incline to the Stupa, I heard voices and when I emerged from the desert foliage I found a small sized group gathered together to chant.  I sat for hours listening to them and to God and trying to make sense of the last several months. 

I have come to believe more and more during all of this that there is no such thing as one true religion.  That God is present in the rituals and practices of all the world’s religions.  I wondered as I sat there who ever decided that only one of us could be right.  I wondered if their mind would change if that could sit in a space like that one.

I was sure it would.

Many doors.  One God.

*   *   *

In addition to these things, over the course of my time in Sedona I also worked with many people who work with crystals and stones.  I learned that I am someone who needs connection to and grounding in the earth in order to stay balanced, and that I have a knack for intuitively knowing which stones will help individuals heal in ways particular to them.  I returned from Sedona with a small rock quarry and a newfound interest in working with crystals and stones and have started dabbling a bit since I’ve been home. 

Ron also had me do sessions with his astrocartographer and his reiki healer.  Each of these women are tremendous healers and each of them brought me the same message – that this experience of cancer was intended to bring me the tribe of women I was intended to find and to show me how to stand on my own with God.  [They told me many, many other things, but even as open as I am, I’m going to keep much of that to myself.]   

*   *   *

I slept deeper in Sedona than I had slept since my surgery – or even in the month leading up to it.  But each night I would wake around 3am and lie in the dark listening to the creatures outside.  It would take a time for me to get back to sleep, but eventually I would.

On the third night, as I lay there staring at the eye of the yurt above me, I heard God again – loud and clear.

“Your cancer is gone.”

And I fell back to sleep.

The next day I sought out a pendulum.  I had been asking mine for weeks if my CA125 was declining and had been repeatedly told that it was.  But I had never asked if my cancer was gone. 

I finally asked.  And it told me yes.  It was.

*   *   *

I head to Big Sky, Montana next week to work with a few healers there.  The work we plan to do is quite different than the work I undertook in Sedona. 

Another big thank you to everyone who has helped make these trips happen.  You have funded not only Sedona, but Big Sky, and my coming trip to do work in Costa Rica.  Thank you!  I believe with all that I am that what we did in Sedona played a large role in my recent remission, and I am equally confident that the work I will continue to do will ensure that this disease never recurs.  And that others can have similar experiences as well.

[If you still want to make a donation, the link will stay live for the next year or so – more on my future travel plans to come soon!]

*   *   *

I left Sedona feeling not only more connected to God but to everything that makes up this world we inhabit.  The realization that God lies not just within each of us but within each piece of his creation - from the firey rocks of Sedona's landscape to Hope's curly brown fur - has stuck with me and has colored the way I interact with the world more and more.  I've shared for awhile that I believe love (or lack of it) played a huge role in the development of my disease.  I feel even more strongly of that today - but not only when it comes to the love I give myself, but the love I bestow upon every other living creature, every other piece of God's creation.

I've long heard it said that love conquers all.  I have never been more sure of that since my return from Sedona.