Performing miracles at a rented duplex in Oak Lawn this week, ladies and gentlemen how ’bout a big round of applause forrrr … God?
“No, I’m not God,” says Jim Weathers. “Just his big, ugly conduit.”
Um, yeah, about that glaring lack of a miracle-worker denial. That’s because Weathers — and hundreds of DFW residents — are convinced he is, at the very least, a man blessed with the healing hands of a higher being.
The former Green Beret, survivor of multiple death pronouncements and healer favored by pro golfers and other celebrities, is transforming the half-of-a-house on Springbrook Street into the trendiest pop-up shop in Dallas. Inside, Weathers serves up not themes but transformations.
In a modest, sold-out living room dominated by two fireplaces, Muzak and a massage table, Weathers treats an endless stream of clients excitedly paying $150 for 90 minutes of cure. They bring open minds, various ailments and … two sheets, two pillow cases (turns out super heroes hate doing laundry).
A shiatsu master, he specializes in Reflexology, sports injury therapy, energy healing, lymphatic cleansing, relieving chronic pain and Reiki — a Japanese technique that adherents say channels energy to heal and reduce stress.
Oh yeah, and he can also read your mind and see your chakra. He says.
“I was nervous as you could be. As I was walking up to the door I thought, ‘What in the world are you doing?’” says Melissa Plaskoff, who visited Weathers last Saturday morning. “But I had never met this man, and before I could even sit down, he told me how many kids I had, their sexes and the correct order in which I had them. There’s something special about him.”
Before he evolved into Robert Jeffress + David Blaine + Tony Robbins + Dalai Lama, “Big Jim” — muscle-bound even at 58 – was apparently Neo meeting The Oracle in The Matrix.
Weathers jumped out of airplanes at night in the Army and suffered major injuries in 1979 when his parachute caught in a tree in Japan. He was directed toward blind, 84-year-old healer Toshi Namiami, who immediately sensed his aura.
“As soon as she touched me, she told me I was a shaman,” Weathers said early Tuesday morning before his appointments began. “She convinced me that she had been waiting for me for 30 years, even though I was only 19.”
His development: Part gift. Part grit.
A Bird Box show-off before Bird Box was even a movie, for two years Weathers was tutored blindfolded by Toshi. He then studied at Tokyo University before bringing his skills home to America.
Weathers boasts the ability to generate an enormous amount of heat that radiates from his hands. He can read a person’s energy through their chakra, the colors spinning around their head. He performs the entirety of his massages and treatments with his eyes closed.
“Doing what I do is easy, because it’s a gift,” he says. “The hard part is explaining to people what I do or how I do it.”
Among the “miracles” that he claims have flowed from his work:
*Forcing leukemia into submission.
*Extending the life, by eight years, of a child minutes from being taken off the respirator.
*Mitigating paralysis so much that, according to Weathers, an incapacitated woman carried onto his table last week in Oak Lawn was able to drive home.
He’s also the healer with nine(ish) lives, having survived flat-line flirtations after being buried 20 feet underground in an explosion, breaking his neck in a weight-lifting accident and being viciously “subdued” at a Canadian golf tournament in 2008 by a policeman who mistook his celebratory Champagne spray as a Mace attack.
“That one set me back eight years,” Weathers says. “But like Toshi taught me, ‘I have to learn to heal myself before I can heal others.’”
Weathers has amassed an impressive client list, including Prince Andrew, Dale Earnhardt Sr. and Phil Mickelson. In Dallas, he has treated Ross Perot Jr., Justin Leonard, Ty Murray and Mark Teixeira. His annual DFW tour began in 2016 when a Dallas acquaintance of Hall of Fame golfer Ray Floyd requested his powers.
“She said she needed me to help her friend get pregnant. I told her, ‘Of course I can, but please, can we phrase that another way?’” Weathers jokes.
The woman persuaded Weathers to fly from his home in Maui by promising a handful of new clients. Her friend overcame her infertility. Weathers, in turn, gained an expanding call list. He’ll be in Dallas through Friday before moving to Fort Worth for 10 days.
During his three-week North Texas stop, he anticipates treating 300 clients. (To get on his exclusive list you usually must know someone who knows someone, but Weathers gave us this special link allowing you to make an appointment.)
“I was skeptical, but now I just want more,” says Plaskoff, who booked a second appointment on her way home from the first. “It’s hard to explain, but he just gave me this charge of energy. Physically and mentally.”
Weathers’ first appointment Tuesday morning bounded through the front door.
“Isn’t he just magical?!” she exclaimed. “This is my third day in a row.”
Weathers tells tales of picking winners at the horse track and of precisely drawing the license plate of a family member’s car that he had never seen. PGA golfers swear by him. UFC fighters, NASCAR drivers and the Professional Bull Riders endorse him.
Nonetheless, questions abound.
Instead of flying solo from Maui to DFW in the winter to work 12-hour days — he’ll next set up shop in Boise and then Beverly Hills — why doesn’t Weathers retire to Las Vegas? Or simply stay put in Maui? Or be the personal miracle worker of the Kardashians? Perhaps stage last-second interventions at Make-A-Wish? Open a healing center at the Cooper Clinic?
And, if ordained by a higher order, why him? Better yet, why not a zillion more like him?
“I don’t have all the answers,” says Weathers. “I just know I’ve never met anyone like me.”
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