I was surprisingly at ease given the circumstances: lying on a massage table in a guestroom converted into a small spiritual center while a composed practitioner moved around me, whooping, calling out my name and waving feathers above my prone body.
With my eyes closed, I felt the motion around me as Dr. Tim Frank, a licensed general practitioner and hospice physician with training in psychoneuroimmunology, made guttural vocalizations and played a drum. Occasionally he called, “Lisa!” as he invited my ancestors to surround me.
What’s wrong with this picture? Nothing at all.
Frank, a graduate of Southwest College of Naturopathic Medicine in Tempe, Arizona, embraces his Cherokee heritage and traditional indigenous healing practices. He blends naturopathic approaches — which draw on science and nature — with Native American philosophies. This synthesis is a hallmark of his work at Miraval, a destination spa resort near Tucson, where he leads distinctive wellness offerings.
I had arrived at Miraval a couple of days earlier with plans for morning hikes in the Sonoran Desert, restorative massages in the spa and a few yoga and meditation classes. Then I noticed Frank’s signature treatments on the schedule. A last-minute cancellation allowed me to book a 45-minute Samadi Healing Ceremony at short notice.
The previous two years had been personally challenging. I’m proud of how I faced those challenges, but they took a toll on my inner life. Rather than greet each day with curiosity, I found myself worrying about what might go wrong. It wasn’t dramatic, just a persistent question mark hovering at the edge of my awareness.
Aromatic herbs are used to cleanse the environment. © Miraval
The Samadi Healing Ceremony combines relaxation techniques with Native American drumming, acupuncture, Reiki and reflexology, promising transformational healing. For me that translated into an opportunity to release counterproductive thought patterns and shift my energy. I was willing to try.
My session began with a conversation. Frank and I sat facing one another as he explained his background and encouraged me to describe what I had been feeling. I’m usually comfortable sharing in a safe setting, but I struggled to find words. I couldn’t easily name what I felt, only that I needed greater balance. Frustrated, I followed his instruction to recline while he cleansed the room of negative energy and placed an eye pillow over my face.
My first exposure to meditation was nearly 30 years ago, and I embraced it early on. While others sometimes found it difficult to quiet their minds, I learned to “watch thoughts without judgment” and let them drift away like clouds. I don’t meditate as often as I’d like, but I tend to practice yoga with my eyes closed and turn my attention inward.
I expected the Samadi ceremony to follow that familiar pattern: I would sink into meditation while Frank performed dances and chants, and I would leave feeling renewed.
Instead, I found it difficult to relax. I worried I might squander this rare experience. I judged myself and even judged Frank, thinking, “It’s smoke and mirrors,” and feeling foolish for participating.
Then I noticed a subtle, almost physical shift. It arrived like that brief sensation just before falling asleep, except I hadn’t moved and I wasn’t asleep. In an instant, the walls between times seemed to dissolve. I know this sounds unconventional, but the barriers between past, present and future lifted. I felt the presence of Nana, Eileen and Ann.
I tried to widen that circle to invite other loved ones who had passed, but the connection felt less authentic. I could truly feel Nana, Eileen and Ann; others came only as mental images. For a moment I judged them for not being present with me, then understood a larger truth.
It came together quickly: past, present and future are interconnected. I visualized two hands, fingers interlacing and passing through one another. Time is not strictly linear; these moments are woven together in ways we living in the present can’t fully comprehend. Worrying about what might go wrong lost its grip.
I left the session with a calmness that surprised me given the unconventional setting. The experience didn’t erase hardship or guarantee certainty, but it offered a shift in perspective — a reminder that connection, balance and presence can change how we relate to our fears and expectations.
Miraval Arizona Resort & Spa
5000 E. Via Estancia Miraval
Tucson, AZ 85739
tel 800 232 3969
miravalresorts.com