My Healer's Journey
Hello, and welcome to my Substack, "Working with People." I'm Oriya, and this is where I share my journey as a healer, guide, and perpetual student of life.
While I've explored countless healing tools and modalities, the most transformative one emerged from within: healing through inner storytelling. I've created a unique framework by studying timeless story structure alongside Hollywood blockbuster beats, all while mapping my own journey as a facilitator and participant in shamanic ceremonies.
At the heart of this framework is a circle of 12 universal beats - a synthesis of various modalities, my facilitator training using the four elements, and thousands of hours spent in altered states. These beats have played out in my life sometimes in a single night, other times over a decade.
To introduce you to this concept and to myself, I'd like to share My Healer's Journey through these 12 beats. It's a story of transformation, mistakes, revelations, and ultimately, of coming home to oneself.
For a deeper dive into this method and to download the beat sheet for your own exploration, visit my 42 Narrative Alchemy Method page.
What follows is one application of the 12 beats, focusing on my first attempt at being a healer and guide - arguably the most dramatic period of my life. I have beat sheets filled out for every area of my life, which I'll share in separate posts. This particular journey begins when I decided to quit my 9-5 tech career and commit to "working with people" full-time.
My Healer's Journey in 12 Beats
1. Opening Image: Beverly Hills ER
At 28, I find myself in a Beverly Hills ER, the aftermath of jumping from a moving car - a desperate act born from relationship drama and a decade-long battle with substance abuse. As a doctor questions my mental state, reality hits hard: I'm self-destructing. This moment forces me to confront the path that led me here - from fleeing Israel at 14 to chasing the American dream through tech startups, real estate, and even Western spirituality.
Despite outward success, true fulfillment eludes me. On my knees, I plead with God for guidance, for a deeper understanding of life. My long-held dream of working with people, suppressed since I was 18, begins to resurface. I've been yearning for this path but kept hiding behind businesses, projects, technology, and helping others instead of launching my own practice. This moment in the ER becomes the catalyst for a profound shift in my life's direction.
2. Original Lie: Shadowy Shamanism
Six months after my ER experience, I'm introduced to Los Angeles-style shamanism - a blend of modern psychedelics and traditional plant medicines. Pitched as "indigenous technology for self-exploration and community-building," I dive in, eager to train. My heart resonates with this work, and I naturally decide this is what I want to do for a living. It feels like the perfect story, the best path to finally work with people.
But there's a catch: it's an underground world with questionable, grey-area substances. I realize that to enter this business, I'll have to "shut up" to keep myself and the community safe. As I begin training with my teacher, my Original Lie takes root: I'm not safe in my truth - I'm entering a shadowy realm where I'll have to maintain different versions of myself, unable to be fully transparent.
When a psychic tells me my teacher is both shaman and drug dealer, I realize I'm embracing my shadow side full-time. I cannot just be OR YA - the light of God. To pursue this path, I'll have to compromise my authenticity, believing that my full truth would endanger me and others.
This Original Lie sets the stage for the internal conflict that will drive my journey: the tension between my desire to help others and work with people, and the perceived need to hide parts of myself to do so.
3. Journey Out: East Coast Shamanic Empire
After a year of intense training, I make the bold decision to leave the Kabbalah Center, my spiritual home for years. With a pregnant wife and meager savings, we embark on a cross-country drive to New York, tasked with establishing the East Coast branch of my teacher's shamanic empire. The excitement of being closer than ever to my dream of working with people is palpable, but it comes with a heavy price - the path demands I fragment myself further.
As we drive across America, I grapple with the reality of what I'm undertaking. I'm not just changing careers; I'm entering a shadow career - one that relies on half-truths and avoiding full transparency due to the nature of the business and legality of psychedelics. Each mile brings us closer to New York and further from the life I've known. I'm torn between exhilaration at the possibilities and a gnawing fear of the risks I'm taking.
4. The Catch: Legal and Safety Dilemmas
Our first day in NYC brings a stark reality check that shatters any remaining illusions. A friend lands in the ER after a session with one of the facilitators, and I'm abruptly warned that I'm unwittingly part of a drug-dealing network. The implications of what was found in my friend's bloodwork send shockwaves through my system. At 30, I face a crossroads that feels more like a precipice: I'm living my dream, but at what cost?
The gravity of my situation becomes clear. I'll have to travel through airport security with questionable substances, refer to them by different names and descriptions. It's all stories within stories, and no one really knows the truth. The weight of secrecy and potential danger settles on my shoulders.
In a moment of desperate bargaining, I strike a deal with God - two years of this work before becoming the medicine myself. Deep down, I know I'm choosing the path of least resistance, but the allure of finally doing what I've always wanted - working with people - is too strong to resist.
5. Honeymoon: Rapid Growth and Shadow Success
When I confront a community facilitator with my friend’s emergency, I'm offered a very poor explanation “it was a bad batch”, coupled with unexpected opportunity - the chance to "take over the Brooklyn group." It feels like a sign, a way to carve out my own space in this new world. I dive in headfirst.
The next two years bring explosive growth that exceeds my wildest expectations. My community expands from a humble 6 members to an astonishing 800, spread across multiple states and countries. Money flows freely, and I find myself hailed as the golden boy of my training program. From the outside, it looks like I've achieved everything I've ever wanted.
But beneath the surface, a darker current runs. The very success I'm experiencing comes at a personal cost I'm not fully prepared to pay. Due to my own pain and internal suffering from not living in my truth, I can't stop partaking in the medicine I'm offering others. I'm living a rock star life, complete with all its turbulent highs and lows - seeking love and intimacy outside myself, trying to fill a void that seems to grow larger with each passing day.
6. False Victory: Drowning in Duality
As my external success continues to soar, I find myself drowning in a lifestyle I never truly wanted. The boundaries between facilitator and participant blur dangerously. I not only participate in the ceremonies I lead but often overindulge, pushing my own limits further each time.
My world becomes a haze of contradictions. I rebel against my facilitator role, even as I expand it. I desperately seek external love and approval, all while knowing deep down that I'm moving further from my authentic self.
A ritual develops - one that symbolizes my internal struggle. Every ceremony, after giving everyone their "medicine," I slink away to the bathroom. There, I face myself in the mirror, seeing my suffering soul reflected back at me. I take the same medicine I've just distributed, giving myself a knowing wink. In that moment, I catch a glimpse of a hard truth - I'm not that different from what I ran away from as a child. I'm still grappling with the same trinity of struggles: sexuality, spirituality, and substance abuse.
I justify my actions by telling myself, "If Jimmy Hendrix needed substances to play his music, so can I to do this work." But each time, the justification rings a little more hollow.
7. Shadow Rising: Reputation in Ruins
Two years have passed since my promise to God, and I'm no closer to working without the medicine. Instead, I find myself violating both personal and traditional ceremonial boundaries with increasing frequency. The consequences of my actions begin to surface in the form of allegations and legal threats.
I'm forced to confront an uncomfortable truth: My new reputation is the very thing I fled from in Israel - a toxic blend of sexuality, spirituality, and drugs. The irony is bitter and inescapable.
Instead of backing off, knowing my truth and that I've been taking the easy route, I choose to fight back. I refuse to stop, doubling down on my commitment to the work. I deal with my destroyed reputation by clinging to the belief that my heart remains in the right place - I'm doing this to help people and to sustain my family.
I tell myself, "This is my only work, my only job. I have to do what I've got to do." But with each repetition of this mantra, the doubt grows stronger. Am I really helping, or am I perpetuating a cycle of shame?
8. Autocorrect: Public Outing and Forced Reflection
After two more years of working under these increasingly strained conditions, the other shoe finally drops. I'm publicly outed on social media, my name associated with words that send chills down my spine: "drugs, sex, authorities, and kids at home."
A part of me had been praying for this moment, wanting to be stopped, knowing I couldn't stop myself. I had enjoyed the organic growth, the super-loyal community that stood by me despite the rumors. People had to choose whether to believe the allegations and distance themselves, or stick with me based on their belief in my heart and best intentions.
But seeing those words next to my name, out there for everyone to see, is my worst fear realized. When I turn to the community elders for support, I'm met with silence. The lack of backing forces me to take decisive action. I hold a community circle, a last stand of sorts, where I confess my struggles and announce a break to heal.
In this moment of brutal honesty, I realize a profound truth: I am on my own. The wave of change I've been riding has finally crashed, and now I must navigate the aftermath.
9. Journey In: Seven Years of Inner Work
The decision to stop isn't as simple as I had imagined. Doubt plagues me - am I really defective, truly unworthy? Seeking answers, I visit a therapist who offers an unexpected perspective. She suggests that while I should have had better mentoring, my heart has always been in the right place.
Encouraged by this view, she proposes starting a third round of community circles, this time bringing in all the people herself. I agree, but with a caveat - I'm leaving for Israel in six months. What follows is my most enjoyable and profitable business round yet. With my shadows exposed and serving in the light, I experience a taste of what authentic leadership could be.
But as the temptations to stick with this work grow stronger, I hold firm to my decision to return to Israel. I recognize the need to confront what I left unhealed, to understand why I've had such difficulty just being myself, why I've hidden behind tools, methodologies, substances, and other people's modalities instead of developing my own.
We arrive in Israel with nothing but a few duffel bags and open wounds, marking the beginning of a seven-year period of intense introspection. Unable to work with others, I turn inward, exploring various healing modalities. Storytelling emerges as my guide, revealing the complex narratives I've constructed about myself.
During this time, I grapple with deep-seated beliefs of being tainted and unlovable, tracing their roots to childhood experiences. The process is painful but illuminating, each revelation bringing me closer to understanding my true self.
A pivotal moment comes at 40, when a mentor delivers a stark insight: "You're addicted to the outside world." This statement hits me like a thunderbolt, forcing me to confront my desperate need for external validation - the very thing that has kept me from my truth and my work all these years.
This period of introspection leads me to a profound realization: I've had it wrong all along. All the psychedelics, plant medicines, and modalities I've explored have been attempts to find answers externally. I've never truly gone inward to clean house inside. It dawns on me that the purpose of life's "autocorrect" moments is to redirect us from looking outside to looking inside.
10. Faceoff: Confronting the Core Lie
The journey inward leads me to confront my deepest, most painful truths. I spend four years grappling with childhood ghosts - particularly the sexual abuse I experienced at an early age. This trauma had distorted my self-perception, making me feel like the predator rather than the victim. I realize that this unhealed energy had become an unintegrated shadow, silently driving many of my life decisions.
My original lie - that my truth won't keep me safe - I trace back to my experiences in a middle school riddled with sexual abuse, and a household plagued by substance abuse. This lie intertwined with the American dream's false promise of finding fulfillment through external achievements, creating a complex web of misconceptions I've been living in.
As I work through my 42 method, uncovering hundreds of beats and little stories in my life, a startling clarity emerges. I realize that I only have one fundamental lie to face off with - the belief that there's something inherently wrong with me, that my truth means lack of safety.
This period of intense self-reflection is punctuated by real-life challenges. My father dies suddenly, forcing me to confront the lie that I am alone in the world. Relationship troubles surface, making me realize how I've been looking for and needing love from external sources rather than cultivating it within myself.
Over these four years, I not only develop the 42 method but also clean up my substance dependency, recalibrate my romantic relationship, and even reexamine my relationship with God. Each step brings me closer to my authentic self, but also closer to the ultimate challenge - sharing my story.
The final faceoff is happening now, as I write these words. Sharing this embarrassing story - a tale of sex, drugs, and spirituality that seems almost cliché - feels like the ultimate test. In a world where cancel culture is real, who would willingly expose such a past? But I realize that this reluctance is my final battle, the last stand of my original lie. By sharing this story, I'm choosing truth over safety, authenticity over approval.
11. Nopamine: Authenticity Over External Validation
In this phase of my journey, I coin the term "Nopamine" - a play on "new dopamine" - to describe the high of rejecting external validation. It represents a fundamental shift in how I derive satisfaction and fulfillment.
By telling my truth, sharing my stories, and returning to work as the medicine itself, I'm actively choosing authenticity over the fear of disapproval. This choice isn't a one-time decision but an ongoing practice. Nopamine becomes my spiritual discipline, a daily commitment to saying no to substances, to fears, to the allure of eternal love from outside sources.
I'm learning to show up as I am, with all my imperfections and hard-won wisdom. Each day presents new challenges, new temptations to fall back into old patterns of seeking external validation. But with each "no" to these external pulls, I say "yes" to my authentic self.
This practice extends beyond personal choices to how I interact with the world. In my work, I no longer hide behind methodologies or substances. Instead, I offer my genuine self, trusting that my experiences - both triumphs and failures - are the real medicine I have to share.
The path of Nopamine isn't always easy. There are moments of doubt, times when the old cravings for external approval surge. But with each challenge faced, each temptation resisted, I find a deeper, more sustainable sense of peace and purpose.
12. Remembering: Reconnecting with Divine Purpose
As I stand at this final beat of my journey, I recall a promise I've made repeatedly to God throughout my life: "Get me out of this mess, and I'll spread your word." I realize now that God has indeed gotten me out of many crises and troubles, yet I have yet to fully keep my end of the bargain.
My name, Oriya, means "light of God," but for so long, I preferred the shadowy hustle, driven by the fear stemming from my original lie. Now, I understand that this act of sharing my story, developing the 42 method, and helping others is itself an act of spreading the word of God.
I've come to a profound realization: Just as the body has its own healing mechanism, so does life itself - and this mechanism can be understood as God. It's not an external force to be appeased or feared, but an internal wisdom to be accessed and partnered with.
In this remembering, I take full responsibility for my own divinity. I no longer see myself as separate from the divine but as an active participant in its expression. This shift in perspective changes everything - how I view my past, how I engage with my present, and how I approach my future work.
By embracing this truth, I step fully into my role as a healer and guide. Not as someone perfect or above others, but as a fellow traveler who has walked through the shadows and emerged with hard-won wisdom to share.
Remembering isn't a destination, but an ongoing process. Each day, I choose to remember who I am, to honor the light within me, and to help others find their own inner illumination. This remembering infuses every aspect of my life and work, from the way I interact with clients to how I continue to explore and share the 42 method.
In essence, this final beat is about coming full circle. The journey that began in a Beverly Hills ER, driven by a desperate plea for guidance, has led me back to myself - to the truth of who I am and the purpose I'm here to fulfill.
As you've seen through my journey, the 12 beats aren't just theoretical concepts - they're a map of the soul's journey towards wholeness and authenticity. Each beat offers its own challenges and lessons, ultimately leading to a deeper understanding of ourselves and our place in the world.
Remember, this is just one application of the 12 beats, focused on my journey as a healer. I have beat sheets filled out for every area of my life, each telling its own story of growth and transformation. In future posts, I'll share more of these stories, offering different perspectives on how these universal beats play out in various aspects of life.
If you're intrigued by this method and want to explore how it might apply to your own life's journey, I encourage you to visit the 42 Narrative Alchemy Method page. There, you'll find resources to help you start mapping your own story using these 12 beats.
And remember, you don't have to walk this path alone. If you'd like support in applying this method to your life and uncovering your soul's story, please don't hesitate to reach out. Together, we can navigate the complex terrain of your experiences, helping you find the thread of meaning that ties it all together.
Your story matters. It has the power to heal not just you, but others who might see themselves reflected in your journey. By courageously examining our pasts, facing our truths, and choosing authenticity, we not only transform our own lives but contribute to the healing of the world around us.
Are you ready to embark on your own journey of self-discovery and transformation? The path to remembering who you truly are begins with a single step. Let's take that step together.
This is awesome, Oriya