An Enchanting Day

Lovely Hosta!

On some days, when Lucky and I are wandering through the garden, something I can only call a state of grace descends.

For no particular reason I can discern, meaning I am not meditating or doing anything other than just being, I feel as if life has expanded. I feel as if my heart is open and filled with love.

Grasses soaking up Sun's rays...

The day takes on a certain bright quality, luminous and much more pronounced...each Plant becomes a shining beacon, each Boulder takes on a distinctive personality, each Tree, each Leaf glimmers with a certain intensity.

My hearing becomes more acute...instead of a cacophony of shrieks, twitters, and calls from all the Bird life, I can differentiate between each one, even finding the Tree from which the Birdsong emerges. The chatter of Squirrels suddenly has some meaning...

A photo from a past garden

I visit Grasshopper, who has taken up residence in the Sweet Grass patch. He looks up at me, rubbing his back legs. I look into his eyes and the connection between us happens very quickly...Grasshoppers do not take much time in communing with humans, before they are off again...doing whatever it is that Grasshoppers do during a long, warm Summer's day.


The warmth of the Sun and the love that is stationed in my heart gives such a shimmer to the day! Lucky and I wander here and there, with Lucky searching out scents that excite him, bringing out the Puppy who still resides within him.

The Begonias are three times this size since this photo was taken.

We find a large, black Spider. She looks as if she is mostly body...I only see her legs when she moves. But she has the largest eyes! She twists and turns, keeping her eyes glued to mine. What a strange experience...it seems I am communicating with her, as she dances on the ledge of the deck.


She is a Spider I would not want to meet in the dark of night, but she is beautiful now, in the shining Sun. Even her black, furry back reflects and glows from Sun's rays. She keeps her eyes on mine, and I can't look away. I feel a further rush of warmth run through my body...did it come from her?

A Poppy about to burst its pod.

We leave Spider to her day and continue on to the Seeded garden bed, which has bounced into life. There has been much Rain here, a very unusual amount for the Cariboo. As a consequence, greenery is much pronounced, although flowering is still spotty. But this little garden bed has Baby's Breath beginning to show her lovely, white blooms tucked here and there. And Poppy is running rampant.


As I bend down to look at the Flowers about to come into bloom, I feel as if a hand has descended and is stroking my hair. I am startled for a moment, until I discover it is the Birch Tree which sits right beside the garden bed.

Finally time to put out the deck furniture! Graham's workshop in the background...

And then, I am even more startled, as the realization hits that this Tree could not stroke my head...how did her branch reach down this far? I am not tall, the branch is far above my head and there is no Wind. How odd...but still, she moves her Leaves back and forth on my head for another moment, before her Branch is once again above me. I feel another surge of what can only be described as receiving doting, deep affection from another...in this case, from a Birch Tree, one of many here.

Lucky, just after his bath and before he was trimmed!

I feel as if the whole place has become enchanted. I stroke a Boulder who has many times grounded me, when I feel scattered and in need. I will sit on him, during those times, and I will immediately feel a strong connection to Earth, calming me instantly.

The Raspberry patch, now full of blooms and the beginnings of Berries

Today, this Boulder, warmed from a Sun bath, looks as if he is smiling. His face, usually wreathed in a runnelled, thoughtful pose, seems to have changed to one of contentment and pleasure. I wonder if the shadows from the bright Sun has anything to do with it...and then, just like that, I accept the change in Boulder's countenance. This day is not one where I try to find what others consider real.


It is mid-morning...not a time when I would ordinarily see any wildlife. And yet, as Lucky and I wander on, completely relaxed, my bones and muscles feeling fluid, Lucky stiffens and growls. I grab his collar, knowing the signs, feeling the presence of another. 

Petunias love the hot, dry climate here

And yes...there ahead of me, working on a fallen nurse Log, is a Bear. He is unbelievably large and old...I know him, he has been here before. He is some distance from me. I know I can reach the door of the Workshop before he can reach me, but strangely, this day I feel no fear, only caution.


Lucky is very alert, watching. As am I...this Bear is big!

Another photo from another time

He turns his head and once again, I feel that certain warmth rush through my body when his eyes meet mine. He grunts, seems to consider continuing on with tearing at the Log, and then turns, slowly meandering along on his way, melting into the deeper Forest.


Lucky is beside himself, now. The Bear is gone, leaving no trace. I find myself missing his huge bulwark of a body...I find myself thinking of the stuffed Bear which once comforted me as a wee child.

Rose shines in the Sun

I let Lucky go. I know he will go no further than the Log; Lucky has changed much since Nate died. He listens well; he no longer chases any wildlife, preferring instead to stay by my side. But the smells from the Bear are too good for Lucky to resist...

Ferns in my former garden at the Coast

I continue to be in awe. Quite suddenly, the thought comes that I want the whole World to experience this unbelievably fascinating entrancing day. I feel a strong urge to send Reiki blessings to the Universe, to everyone and every insect, every animal, bird and fish.


And so, while Lucky 'hunts', I do.

A Magic Apple

A couple of years ago, Graham and I planted an Apple Tree. It was not the first Apple Tree I've planted...on every property I have lived upon, there was either a fully grown one, or a small sapling I'd just transplanted after the move.

But the small Tree we planted in the Cariboo is finding life difficult.


It was planted at the top of a bank. We dug a deep, wide hole, trying to pry all the Rocks out of the Soil in the immediate area, but not completely succeeding. And so, I knew I would have to Water it a little more often...Rocks don't hold the Water and there is a lot of run off down the bank.

It tried to bloom. Each time a blossom opened, however, it would Snow. Snow did not bother the Crabapple Tree, planted at the same time, but the little Apple Tree's blossoms would wither, turn brown and drop off.

It was cold for a long time, this past Spring. Snow happened fairly rarely, but with the cold, Bees and such were still hunkered down, still in hibernation.

Our little Tree tried over and over again to fruit...in fact, at one point I actually counted over six little Applets clinging to the branches. These would all eventually drop off.


Except for one.

This one is strongly attached to the Tree. This Apple is perfectly round, with a small dimple which collects Rain Water, making it look as if it has a small window.

Sometimes, one can even imagine that one could look inside through the window and see magic at work.

I dreamt about it the other day, although not expressly about only the Apple Tree. I was in an airport; there were long runways in front of me. My feeling was I would have to choose one. But how was I to know where each led?

I was becoming frustrated and anxious in my dream. Even as I understood that in this dream my choice of runway would have an impact on my life...I couldn't choose. It felt as if I was paralysed, physically and mentally.

The ends of the runways were obscured by smoke. Now, my dreaming of smoky runways was not so difficult to understand, since we have been in smoky conditions for a long time. It is only over the last couple of days that North Wind brought Storms, which put the smoke on the run.

I peered and I pondered. Which runway to choose...? And I knew without a doubt I would have to choose one, in this dream. But I really, really didn't want to do so.

In the misty, murky distance, a Tree appeared, half obscured by the grey tendrils of smoke. I watched it for a long while...was it my Apple Tree? And was it a sign given to me by the Apple Diva? Surely, in a dream where anything is possible, she would appear to give me advice.


Suddenly, I felt a hard, round object in my hand. It was the Applet...the only Apple on the Tree in my backyard. It was easily recognizable...I have stared at that small Apple on the Tree for months and know it well.


Don't you wish, during dreams, that you could take an interpretor along with you? Someone who could point out what is important and what is not in a dream? Most times, I can figure out what it is I am supposed to know, but sometimes...my mind seems too clouded to grasp the concept.


The Apple I held in my hand was ripe. It's scent was lovely...as strong as a box of just picked, perfectly ripened Apples. I wondered if I should eat it, or place it back on the Tree in the distance on the runway. But I knew if I walked on that runway, it would be the pathway I chose...for good and all. And I felt real apprehension at the thought.


Could I commit to one pathway? Could I even make a decision about whether or not to follow the runway to the Apple Tree?


Quite possibly,even in a dream, I would still be standing there at the beginning of all the runways if I hadn't heard a voice coming from the innocuous little Apple in my hand.

Take me home...she said. 


I wondered where home was...was it the Tree in the distance?


Yes...said the small voice...it's the home of Truth and Magic, and you know that.


I didn't know anything. I did not want to follow any of the runways...that much I did know.


But, with the Apple in hand, I find myself walking down the runway that led to the Tree. On my way, I discover the runway is no longer smooth. It becomes hilly, and there are many streams and obstacles to cross before I can reach the Tree, which never seems closer.


There is a change inside myself, as I traverse that long, long treacherous runway. I suddenly know, without a doubt, that I can do whatever it is I am to do. Inner confidence comes back, just as the dream scene begins to fade, with the Tree still in the far distance.


I wake up feeling the imprint of the little Apple in my hand.


Upon arising, I check my small Apple Tree. The Applet still hangs strongly on the branch, ripening day by day. It is a sturdy little Apple, surviving Hail and drought and heat and Wind and smoky Air.


I look upon it a little differently, now.


A magical Apple. One who knows the truth. And one which has a strong sense of...home.


Who knew?

Thickets

In my last home, there were many hedge- rows and thickets, home to all manner of wildlife. It seems these copses of vegetation have followed me here, to intrude upon my well-ordered garden of peace. It seems I have grown an impenetrable thicket in my mind.

A thicket is defined as a number of trees and shrubs growing close together. Sharp twigs , branches, berry vines with darting, ripping thorns, entangling bindweed vines often reside along with the trees and Shrubs. If a thicket is impenetrable, if I try and try over and over again, to find my way through it...being ripped to shreds, each and every time...

Maybe it would be wiser for me to go around it.

Or, I could cut my way through that thicket. This would be drastic...years and years of growth have gone into these Shrubs, Vines and Trees...making it impossible to see the ground, a home, still, to many creatures.

But in order to rejuvenate this dense pocket of plant matter, the one I cannot barrel my way through, the one where I have run out of strength to try...it is not a bad idea to take the pruning shears, and do some gentle pruning. The trouble is, I cannot see where one Tree begins and another Shrub ends...

The pruning may turn out to be drastic, turning this wooded area into a neatly trimmed park- like setting, a delight to my eye and soul, with merciful, benign order to the intertwining plants.

Last week, I was involved in an insanely trying time, finding myself constantly in the middle of that untrimmed thicket. I do not like to disturb the order of things; if I had my way, I would be in the middle of a well-defined path, the way forward clear. As would most of us.

But Creator has other ideas. Here, in this unbelievable place, I was being stabbed by unsuspecting Vines that suddenly appeared, by branches without leaves that jabbed at my eyes..

So, lately, I have been the recipient of messages from Spirit; I think the belief is that I have better skills than I do at deciphering them, or perhaps I require the practice. The messages do heighten my awareness.

I was visited by Hawk and Snake, last week. Both were involved in a dangerous struggle. Traveling along a mountain- ous stretch of road to visit my family, we were held up by a vehicle that had caught fire. And so, when the traffic resumed, we were part of a long line of cars, going both ways on the narrow highway.

One of the largest Red-tailed Hawks I have ever seen suddenly rose up from the side of the road against the car directly in front of us. He had a very long Snake grasped in his claws...a Snake that was fighting with every bit of his being. The car slowed, its inhabitants shocked, but did not stop. The Bird slid and flapped away from this car; he and the Snake ended up on the road in front of our car. We did stop; and the Hawk, still grasping the struggling Snake, flew directly to my window. I looked deeply into his eyes...and then Snake impaled me with his gaze, as well.

I was awestruck. I felt the World stop and for a small moment I was in a different place. In an instant, I realized this was no ordinary occurrence...and I sent a silent Thank you to the two who were putting their lives at risk to show me their presence, with their kinds' resultant messages.

The Hawk and Snake veered off, into the thickly treed forest, and we continued, the whole episode soon out of sight.

But definitely not out of mind.

Hawk is the visionary of the Air, he holds the key to higher levels of consciousness. He sees the overall view. He reminded me to be very aware of omens and spirit messages. He shows me there is a greater intensity, than before, in the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual forces within me.

Snake...the symbol of transformation and healing...the symbol of Eternity. He is Fire medicine...ever changing, ever moving. Snake tells me my creative forces are awakening; my intuition will sharpen. He tells me I have the ability to experience life willingly...without resistance. He tells me all things are one and all things are created equally.

Both are Protectors, in the meaning of their forms. Both were involved in a life/death struggle. Air and Fire, with the element Air fueling Fire. This struggle the two were involved in puts me right back into my thicket, feeling the awful awareness of it all. And the futility, compared to Life/Death.

Fire in the car accident previous to Hawk and Snake's messages relayed enough inform- ation, put all together, for me to decide how to tackle the present thicket in my life.

I think it needs rejuvenation, I think some of those vines and dead vegetation have to be trimmed completely back, to start again, to transform this area into a place where peace and serenity are once more prevalent.

It is time to cut my losses. It is time to realize there are some parts of this tangled, twisted thicket in my mind that no longer serve...and it is time to do something about it.

In AA, there is a saying...Guard the entrance to your mind.

Some of the overgrown parts of this wooded, dark area will have to be cut...going around this particular mess of vegetation will keep it too close to the forefront. And I no longer want to be involved in this confused snarl of coiled, mixed-up vines and branches.

It is time to sharpen the shears.

Grandfather Tree's Story

Grandfather Tree and I have had many occasions in the past five years to sit down together and speak with each other. He has told me a little of his story; I have told him mine.

I wrote about how he began his life here on our property some time ago, and then saved and forgot about it, until Gray reminded me by telling me something he had heard about Grandfather.

There were many parallels I could not have known about... this is one example of how plants will "tell" us what we want or need to know. It was wonderful to me to be able to corroborate a 'feeling' or intuitive thought from Grandfather...and find it to be true.

I'm presently reading two of Stephen Harrod Buhner's books...The Lost Language of Plants and Sacred Plant Medicine. In both works, he has clearly shown how we have lost our ability to communicate with the Plant World; his words are a reminder to me that plants are Mother Earth's natural healers...and that they are fully sentient.

On a warm day last Summer, when the only cool spot for miles around is under Grandfather Tree, where a breeze always sings a song...I felt the urge to speak with him. He took me on a journey that seemed strange to me at the time.

I was riding in an old vehicle...a vintage car, where there were no springs and very little comfort. It was black in the interior and very warm. There seemed to be many children, also...from a young toddler to pre-teens, with us all riding in this jouncy, bouncy conveyance.

It seemed as if we were traveling very quickly. Yet, how could it feel so, when somehow I knew this old car would only be chugging along, at best? And I could not really see the children. I could hear them clearly, and felt a strong energy signature coming from each.

But where was I? And then I saw the wooden box, placed on top of leather luggage, almost as an afterthought. Every time there was a bounce in the car, the box would jolt, and a small layer of dirt would appear to trickle from the side of it. Inside the box, where I seemed to be, was a layer of baby trees...one of whom was Grandfather Tree.

This family was on holiday. There seemed to be much singing and laughter and tired tears. The trip seemed interminable. I wondered where we were coming from and where we were. I was given the answer...this family was from California. They traveled to Vancouver Island every year for summer holidays. I saw a small cabin as their destination...the forerunner to the home in which I now live.

I saw the older boy take the box of seedlings and place them in a corner of the yard, when we arrived. And then...I saw lightning strike a far more mature Grandfather Tree, three times. Sequoia's bark is very thick and fibrous, non-resinous and it is very resistant to Fire, but the heat from the Lightning strike did leave scars. They are apparent to an expert, but I did not know Grandfather had been struck three times, until I was told by an arborist.

With the Lightning, and the resultant feeling of extreme heat, I came out of my meditation and wondered at what I had seen. I wrote it down as a children's story, one I thought I would expand on for my grandchildren. But it faded into the background, with life's events taking precedence.

Grandfather Tree is not indigenous to this area. We did not know he was of the Sequoia genus until after we bought our home. But he is well known to the folks that have lived here for a long time...when I explain where I live, some residents ask about the big, tall Tree in the garden. Is he still alive and well?

And I tell them he is doing very well.

But Gray heard an explanation, a few days ago, of why we have a Sequoia growing, with great gusto, in the yard. He heard there was a lady from California who used to vacation here, many long years ago...and she planted quite a few Sequoias in the general area.

He brought the news home...

It took me a minute or two...and then the light bulb went on!

I had already written Grandfather Tree's story, when I thought it was just that...a happy, little tale to tell my grandchildren.

It was a reminder to me. A reminder to take my gift of communications with Animal and Plant beings seriously and with awe. A reminder to believe in myself.

And a reminder to believe in the stories I hear from Grandfather Tree.

Winter Virus

This past weekend, both Graham and I tangled with what I call a Winter Virus. These viruses worm their insidious way into my body, which has many defenses put in place by me. As a result, Winter Viruses rarely last long...but while they do, while I am fighting a Virus War...I focus on being well.

And for the first time in a long while, I did all that focusing from the comfort of the living room couch. I was down...out for the count. For a period of about two days, although I fought it, all I wanted to do was sleep.

Eventually, as I still tried to do day to day living chores, I wondered why I was working so hard to ignore the droopy eyes, the pain in my joints, the rumbling belly, the incredible weariness. Sometimes, beating my head against a brick wall and not accepting the circumstances becomes just too stupid.

I lowered myself onto that couch, not even moving the pillows adorning it...pillows that make it impossible, usually, to sit comfortably. I fell into an instant sleep, interspersed with dreams of water, coloured lights, fields of green... and words of comfort from someone, a woman I do not know... which I instantly forgot upon awakening.

I woke a few hours later, convinced I had only been there for a few minutes. I lay curled between the pillows, in a position I would never allow my body to be in for long, had I been aware. Graham later said it was a toss-up as to whether he should wake me and move me...or let me sleep.

He probably felt I was going to emulate Grandfather Bear either way.

I sprang up...a mistake. Sinking back into those wonderfully comfortable, now squished beyond recognition, pillows, I closed my eyes. I wanted to return to those dreams and the lady who whispered such words of comfort. I drifted and re-visited, and wandered among green, green fields...fields of Spring.

Bees and birdsong, warm, shifting breezes, the scent of lavender...all these offered solace to my felled body, soothed and gave me tranquillity and ease.

At other times I felt I was underwater, floating in a warm, viscous blue fluid, feeling weightless... renewed. I felt awe, too, at the way such comfort was being given to me, here in my dream state.

Shafts of yellow, orange and pink light pierced the fluid surface of the water; suddenly I found myself once more wandering in that emerald field enclosed in that golden light. It was so comfortable. I cannot begin to tell you how warm and hopeful the atmosphere was where I found myself in my dream.

I felt so well! In this field, I did not have to force myself to do anything...I wanted to, needed to! My legs did not feel weak and watery...they were strong and ready to walk. I could breathe fresh, warm air...no more stuffed up nose. All the ailments that the Winter Virus plagued me with disappeared...and I revelled in it. I wanted to immerse myself within the greeny golden light that surrounded me, roll in the impossibly green grass I walked upon.

This time, as I drifted towards wakefulness, I remembered the field and the water...but most of all I remembered how well I felt, in the green.

I spent another day yesterday giving in to rest and warmth. I drank so much water...it seemed my thirst could not be quenched. And last night, I slept a full nine hours straight.

The Winter Virus has not fully been vanquished. Graham, who suffered his own battle with it over the weekend, has emerged the victor this morning. I started out like gang-busters upon arising; but I am recognizing signs of the Virus attempting a comeback.

It will only be a slight skirmish, however...I will just wander back to the field of Green, a colour I use often for healing with Reiki, and allow the golden light to give me further energy.

Winter Viruses cannot last when I finally become aware of what the Universe and all knowledge since the beginning of time is telling me. I just like to believe my mind is clouded with the Winter Virus, and that's why it takes me so long to see that rest and fluids are required behavior! Not laziness!

And using visualizations, dreams, colours and Reiki certainly helps too!

Ties That Bind

Every once in awhile, a challenge comes along that I must meet head on. There is no way around it, I cannot ignore it or procrast- inate or deny. I cannot get angry at the unfairness of the challenge...instead the requirements are a balanced mind, body and spirit. And a lot of faith.

Such is the case with my aged mother.

Throughout her adult life, my mother was not able to trust anybody or anything, least of all members of her family. Very least of all her daughters. Over the past year, I was privileged enough to see another face of my mother. Much work, Reiki, and Shamanistic tools were used to bring out the love and compassion inside Mom that her life had taken from her.

But old habits die hard.

Because of her inability to trust her family...she began to trust strangers. Strangers had no baggage; they had never hurt her. And through her naivety, and through strangers' greed, my mother ended up making poor decisions, which cost her dearly, both financially and emotionally.

Now Mom is hospitalized, with little hope of ever living alone again. Her body is failing, she is on constant oxygen, her mind is cloudy...it is now up to her family to try and unravel the tangled skeins that, over the past year, Mom has allowed to complicate her life. She hid her deterioration well, and I think, proved to herself that she had the strength to live alone, as handicapped as she was.

But, oh my!

Mother told no one of her affairs. She allowed none of her daughters' to know the code for the Brinks Security System she installed. She gave the code to one of her neighbours, never telling the elderly lady that none of us knew it. And gave this neighbour no telephone numbers for any of us.

I want you to visualize Gray and I running about in all different directions, when we unlocked my mother's door, and the alarm went off...and we had no code! We did not even know who had set it, as it had been turned off. And where did the lady live who had the magic numbers?

When an alarm goes off, police and ambulance are notified. Because we could not turn the thing off, telephone calls from these places and the security places were coming in, not allowing us to call for help, interjecting into our attempts to call for help.

All the while, the security system whooped and whooped. It was mind-numbing. Neither of us could think. Believe me, we were relieved when the police arrived!

That nerve shattering event eventually, after about an hour of shrieking noise, worked itself out, as most things do. Her elderly neighbour had decided to set the alarm, not knowing about Mom's refusal to give any of us the password and code. The whole thing could have been averted, if Mom's secrecy and paranoia had not been allowed to take the upper hand.

Because Mom would never entertain the thought, would fight to the death anyone who even suggested it, of searching out care homes and placing her name on the reservation lists, as a precaution...it is now our job, her daughters' job, to find an Extended Care Living Unit, immediately, within two weeks. There are only two in her hometown, and neither of them have the resources to do good, thorough care. We may have to find a place outside of her hometown. If we can.

The truly confused elderly have no idea how difficult and heart-rending it is for their children to make these kinds of decisions, living decisions, for them. Especially when it is not appreciated by the parent, when accusations are the norm, instead of gratitude. Especially when there is no recognition from the parent about how difficult it is to find a home, where the care is impeccable. And, too, parents who hold their finances close to their chest, not letting anyone see how much money is available, make things far more difficult, because at this stage, the hospital stage, we now have to try and work our way through bits of paper and scrawled notes...to find out how much Mom can afford.

I don't know what the answer is. I have heard these stories about elderly parents over and over again, parents who become paranoid, sure that their offspring are planning to take over, and positive that their children would not have the ability to do so well. The policeman who answered the alarm call told us the fact that we had no information about codes and passwords was not unusual at all, when it comes to dealing with the elderly.

Because we have to fight my mother so hard, this ordeal becomes far, far worse. There is a tie to our parents, to my mother...a tie that binds, a tie on a rope that may fray, but that cannot break, just because she has now become unreasonable and paranoid. Even as confused as my mother is becoming...she still knows which buttons to push to make us feel like ogres.

But that tie to my mother is strong, as strong as I believe the tie is that my children have to me. I have learned a few things. I have learned that I must be responsible enough to find my own elder care, now, when I am still in control of my faculties. It is not something I will leave up to my offspring, Creator willing.

I have learned to believe that my children, however they may view the time when I will have to leave my home, will only want the best for me. I will put suggestions in place; long before I require their help, I will make sure they know where my financial information is.

I will keep the dialogue between my children and I open... no matter how much the subject might make them uncomfortable.

And I will tell them now, when I am still me, how much I love and trust them.

But I will also tell them...there may come a time when I am not me, when I become someone else entirely, when I may fight them all the way...on every little thing. And if that time comes, the ties that bind us to one another will not break. As irritating and confused as my Mother is, I still love her and still learn from her.

In the end, the ties only become stronger.

Change

When I was a child, by the age of six I had already faced many changes. I had emigrated with my family from Germany, my mother and father divorced, I had a new baby sister and I gained a stepfather.

School was one change too many. I was terrified of everything...the huge yellow school bus with the shouting children, the echoing halls of this...place...where I was required to spend most of my day...even the bathroom frightened me. We had an outhouse at home.

But I especially remember the shrieking children, as I watched them from under the coat racks that lined the long hallways. My coat smelled like home, I think. Homesick, I hung on to it, on those wintry days when all the kids played inside the school. The hallways and basement became the playground.

I was not used to children, even if I was one. My playmates were the family dogs, Trees, Plants and Stones outside. It was a quiet, natural world that I inhabited...any excitement around being generated by my own imagination. We lived on a rural property and far from the nearest town.

I did not know it was alright to shriek like that. Indoors, at that. I was afraid the wrath of the grown-ups around would come down on all of us, even me, who was not participating. It made my head hurt...the noisy confusion bombarded me from all directions, there in my little hidey-hole.

It seemed the fear took hold for months; I think it was only the first term. As I screamed my head off, my mother would place me on the bus and the bus driver would hand me over to one of the older girls, who held my hand and attempted to keep me in my seat. Still hiccuping with sobs, I would then, upon arrival at school, be handed over to my teacher, Miss Daily. She had incredible patience with me, letting me cling to her skirt for most of the school day.

I was never teased by my classmates; I have no idea why, since there was plenty of teasing happening with other students. Perhaps they recognized my absolute terror, perhaps kids can be kind, as well as cruel...I will never know. But they just accepted me, hiding behind my coat and all.

Eventually, some kids would come over and talk to me, racing off to play or chase somebody else at times. And eventually, I would run with them, leaving my coat hanging behind, for longer and longer periods of time. In time, too, I would shriek with laughter, chasing the boys or being chased. And I would no longer be frightened of the bathroom...it had become a matter of course.

But I remember well how I integrated myself into the social life of my school. As I hid behind the coats, hanging on to the cloth, wrapping the fur on the collar around my fingers...I watched these children. Each and every one of them became very familiar to me...their speech, their body language, what they laughed at, and how they interacted with each other.

And I told myself, over and over, one thing. I told myself that one day, I would no longer be frightened, I told myself that one day I would run and shriek with abandon, leaving fear behind. I told myself that the sky would not fall if I accepted and adapted to this irrevocable change that had been presented to me. I challenged myself to look at this opportunity without fear.

And to do this, I had to assimilate this whole different atmosphere into my very being. That is why I watched and waited. I learned who and how and what these children...these strange little beings, who were just like me...were. These were my tools, although I was too young to realize it. This ability to watch and wait and learn has never left me. This is a way of life that others sometimes may find slow...but it has never let me down.

Then I had to stand and face my Fear. I had to understand I had allowed that Fear to assume illogically huge proportions, and it was growing by the minute! And so, in my six year old mind, I had to shift it over...instead of letting Fear grow bigger, I could let it grow smaller.

It was a big lesson from my guides for a little girl. The idea that I could shift my reality and change what was so frightening has guided me throughout life's travails.

I'm still able to get wrapped up in fearful behavior, becoming anxious or angry...sending negativity flying into the ether. Sometimes I let myself shout with terrifying anger, or cry with abandon...but even then, there is a part of me that watches and learns what it is that is frightening me so intensely.

Then I remember that little girl, who hung on to her coat for awhile, and then stood away, facing her fear of change.

And I can do no less, as an adult.