Tu Bi Shvat: New Year for the Trees

Anointed by the creator—A Mystical Initiation

Tu Bi Shvat, the New Year for the Trees, has always been a celebration of renewal, growth, and the hidden life that stirs beneath the surface. But in 2016, for me, it became the stage for a supernatural annointing—one that followed the utter destruction of my own inner temple.

That night, as I read about the significance of Tu Bi Shvat, my body became the battleground for something far beyond the physical. Pain surged through my legs, as if the very veins were being torn from my flesh. The agony was so intense, I called a friend who was also a healer, and astonishingly, she began to feel the pain in her own body as she tried to help me calm the storm. This was not just empathy—it was a shared spiritual crisis, a soul-level connection that brought us both to the threshold of something extraordinary.

When I finally surrendered to sleep, I was taken up—literally, I ascended to heaven itself. There, my friend stood beside me on the clouds. Above us, I saw 24 compartments of government, arranged in the heavens. Through a wide opening in the clouds, I heard the voice of the Creator: “You have been beaten for this.” The 24 compartments split in two—half for her, half for me—and then descended onto my shoulders, the weight almost unbearable. I woke up gasping for air, forever changed by what I had just endured.

In the days that followed, the physical manifestations of this anointing continued. During a business meeting, I looked down to see a large bubble of blood emerging from my big toe—no wound, no explanation. Later, while driving home, I scratched my head and found dried blood balls that had formed from my scalp. It was as if the oil of anointing had been pressed into me, and my body responded in the only way it could: with blood, from head to toe.

This was not a dream, not a metaphor, but a real event that marked my soul forever. The Creator’s voice echoed: “You have been beaten for this.” I knew its because both my friend and I had suffered greatly—each of us had faced death, both of us had been beaten nearly to death in this lifetime. I survived clinical death by strangulation at age 20, and endured years of terror at the hands of a psychopathic killer who would later be imprisoned for murder. My friend, too, had survived near-death experiences and relentless suffering.

Yet, in that supernatural night, we were both anointed in heaven. Our suffering was not in vain—it was the preparation for a sacred calling, one that I would never look back or hesitate about. It was a governmental leadership position given through agony and grace. We were chosen, not despite our wounds, but because of them.

And it was later, through the wisdom of a prophetess friend, that I learned a deeper truth: I wasn’t the only one called to carry this burden and this blessing. But she told me, with prophetic certainty, that I would be the one to finish it. She said it was because I was stubborn and that is what it would take to never back down. That message struck my soul with clarity and purpose. My path was not just about my own healing, or even the shared suffering of my soul-sister—I was to be the one to bring this divine assignment to completion.

The Tree, the Oil, and the Blood

Tu Bi Shvat is about the tree—the symbol of life, resilience, and growth after winter’s darkness. My initiation was the pruning and pressing, the extraction of oil through suffering, the bleeding that marked a new chapter. The tree does not blossom without enduring the winter. The olive does not yield oil without being crushed. And the soul does not awaken without being called through fire, pain, and ultimately, divine purpose.

If you find yourself in the midst of inexplicable pain, spiritual storms, or the aftermath of trauma, know this: you are not alone. Sometimes, the anointing comes through the breaking. Sometimes, the most sacred callings are born from the deepest wounds.

Let the New Year for the Trees remind us: after the destruction comes the anointing. After the winter, the sap rises. After the suffering, the soul is crowned.

May your journey be blessed, your pain transformed, and your calling revealed in the fullness of time.