I spent 25 years reverse-engineering a healer.

In 1998, a friend suggested I go see an energy healer in Montreal. She said he'd amuse me.

He was mildly dishevelled: Birkenstocks, black socks, bearded. Looked kind of like a bus driver. He put his hands on my shoulders, said “Av a nice trip” with a thick French-Canadian accent, and I spent the next 45 minutes hovering in that space between awake and asleep — conscious of the breeze coming through the yellow curtains while he creaked around seeing other people in the duplex.

I paid him $40 and left.

For the next three weeks, I felt like a twelve-year-old on the first day of summer vacation. All the time. For no reason I could name. Excitement…possibility. Every day was a new adventure.

Here’s what you need to know about why that was strange: a few years prior I had been a housebound agoraphobic; my world had quietly shrunk to the size of a fist. A one-two panic punch had two massive panic attacks turn into five years in a Montreal apartment, nursing a shattered trust in the world back to life. NLP had helped me claw most of it back. But there was a residue that never shifted — a bruise on my trust that never left.

After that session with the healer, the residue was gone.

Not improved. Gone.

After my third or fourth treatment, I asked him what he was actually doing when he put his hands on people.

“I can’t explain it,” he said. Long pause. Then he fixed his gaze on me and held it there about 5 beats too long, “But you should teach it.”

I took a breath. “How the hell am I supposed to teach what you can’t explain?”*

He thought about it. “What do you do?”

“NLP,” I said. “I do NLP.”

He nodded slowly. “Teach that. It’s the same thing.”

Then he disappeared from my life for seven years.

When I found him again, I started watching properly. I sponsored workshops. I brought students. I videotaped every session I could. I asked thousands of questions — and he answered all of them, consistently, patiently, and almost entirely without useful information. “You just do it” was his baseline. “I don’t know” was his second-most common answer.

What I eventually worked out — through that stubbornness and about 12 years of trying — was that his results didn’t actually require the gift. They required a structure. The gift was how the healer navigated it intuitively. But the structure was learnable. Even by someone who couldn’t feel energy at all.

That structure is The Hümmo Method.

The full account of those twelve years — what the watching looked like, what kept not working, and what finally did — is in the book.

* I said a different word than ‘hell’.

What The Method Is

The Hümmo Method is a structured, repeatable self-healing practice. You don't need to feel energy. You don't need to believe in anything before you start. You don't need a practitioner in the room.

You just need to do the steps and notice the relief.

People have applied it to chronic pain, anxiety, grief; physical and emotional conditions that had survived everything else. The entry point is relief. What tends to happen after that is harder to explain — and the book does a better job of it than this page.