Sometimes life’s hardest lessons come early. At ten years old, I lay in a hospital bed, my left leg nothing more than a stick, withered by polio. The doctors spoke in those careful tones adults use when delivering bad news: “You’ll never walk again.” But something fierce inside me – something older than reason – refused to accept those words.

Every night, after the ward went quiet, I’d sit on my bed and build worlds in my mind. Not just any worlds – worlds where I could walk, run, play football. I’d picture every detail, from the grass under my feet to the wind in my hair.

Night after night, I fell trying to stand. But in my mind? In my mind, I was already running. Three weeks of this stubborn dreaming, and something shifted. When my parents visited, I told them to wait outside the door. Then I stood – wobbling, terrified, but standing. Three steps before falling, but those steps? They rewrote everything the doctors thought possible.

Fast forward through decades, and life threw me another impossible situation. The Sun Vista shipwreck left scars, but what came after was worse. My wife, suffering three devastating strokes in Singapore, lay unconscious. The doctors shook their heads – half her brain dead, no hope of waking.

But that ten-year-old boy who refused to stay paralysed? He was still in me.

When medical science gave up, I turned to something more primal. Hour after hour, I painted pictures with words – a healing paradise island where waves whispered ancient secrets and warm sun could reach into darkness. No training, no technique, just raw desperation and love turning into story. Three days of this constant storytelling, and her finger moved. Then her eyes opened. The doctors called it impossible. I called it remembering what that ten-year-old knew: sometimes the mind has to show the body the way home. This isn’t about miracles or magic. It’s about something deeper, something written into our DNA. That same force that helped me walk again, that brought my wife back from darkness – it lives in you too. Through guided imagery and gentle words, I can help you find it. Because sometimes the most powerful journeys don’t need physical movement at all – just a heart brave enough to believe and a mind willing to show the way.