Relaxation

The other day, I asked Graham to give me a Reiki session...my body had fallen out of sync since the attack of the Hives. I had also noticed more negativity, in my outlook.

People who look mostly to the dark side of life will reflect their opinion in their faces, as they grow older. Perpetual frown marks, down-turned lines at the corner of mouths become entrenched...and before it can be realized what is happening, those deep furrows are on the face for evermore.

If I am going to be wrinkled, I want those wrinkles to show my laughter and joy, rather than my frowns and pouts. Laughter lifts the face; frowns drag them down.

A walk through a Senior's Centre will show the faces...well-lived, to be sure...of the people who found their glass half-full, instead of half-empty. There is a vestige of the Sun left in those positive, loving, open and non-judgemental faces.

A Reiki session will last 45 minutes to an hour. This one felt as if it lasted only five minutes.

However long it was, it was extremely full. Dreams and visions, brightly coloured and energetic, took precedence almost immediately, when Graham began the Reiki treatment. My body became filled with the most intense energy...and I was kept there for almost the entire session.

The colours that appeared, enclosing me, were mostly vibrant purple, with slashes of yellow, blue and green. It felt as I would feel if I was in the middle of the Northern Lights, with stunning displays of colour surrounding me.

I noticed my breathing had slowed...I felt deeply relaxed. I relished this almost weightless feeling, as if I drifted on a cloud, well and happy...far away from Hives and other woes. I wanted to remain here forever.

But the Purple became more insistent. With the smell of Lavender gently wafting around me, I followed the Purple light...a light that would sound lurid if I were to describe it, but felt soft, deep and velvety. I travelled along the Purple path, not sure where I was being led.

I felt a little anxiety suddenly...and the propulsion slowed, giving me time to adjust. When I am not sure of where I'm travelling during these meditative journeys, I take time to assure myself that all my tools are in place...and this journey happened too quickly for me to do this vital step.

So I blocked myself; I did not trust completely, this God essence that was trying to show me a different reality. I wanted my tools, I wanted to be absolutely sure...and yet, other than the anxiety that I was not in complete control, I felt warm and comforted. It was a conundrum.

Taking a deep breath, I followed the Purple again, once again in complete relaxation. I became certain of my safety, convinced I absolutely trusted the energy that lead me...

And then, with swift suddenness, I was in Water, a deep body of Water, with no land in sight. I was sinking, I saw myself go under and drift freely in the Water...and again I blocked the feel and sight of the beckoning Purple path.

I do not want to drown, I told myself, and swam desperately to the surface of the body of Water. In an instant, I was once again on top...once again in control, breathing freely...until I realized I had never stopped, I could breathe in the Water, I was in no danger...breathing under Water was a thing I could suddenly do. Once again, my trust was lacking.

Fear a coppery taste in my mouth, I made the decision to go ahead, and as if I had never hesitated, I again floated downward, breathing freely. As I assimilated my new reality, as I became comfortable, I noticed there were Mountains, Hills and craggy Rocks, with lush plant life swaying in the Water's gentle current, all bathed in the Purple light.

I felt my Guides very closely, as I drifted downward, down, down...completely relaxed, my body as weightless as the puff of a thistle seed.

A City loomed beneath me; buildings nestled in amongst the Mountains, streets curving around square shaped substantial dwellings and towers. I walked the streets, understanding there were others around me, yet not able to distinguish them. And then, I was in one of those buildings, completely engulfed by the Purple, drawn to the deep, deep centre of the Purple light.

Where was I? Why was I not hesitating, once again? What was the Light? But it felt so right, to continue on. I was breathing, I felt buoyed, I felt as secure as I ever would...was the time right? I asked my Guides, as I stood there with the Purple light vibrating through my entire being. What, I asked, was I to do, what was expected of me?

I felt the huddle, I felt people all around me. I felt luminous, my Spirit at peace. My mind shimmered with the Purple; I felt the complete magic of this place where I felt myself to be. My body no longer hurt, it felt free and light.

I was given a reminder of what it felt like, before I allowed pain and disillusionment to enter my mind. Before I allowed everyday life occurrences to take over, before I understood that I was required to treat myself and my body with the same passion that I treated my writing, my gardening, and others in my life.

When I was young, I took my body for granted. This is no longer a possibility...

As I understood this, I felt a reverse tug...and felt myself standing in a field of Lavender, her unearthly scent rising, becoming part of me.

I felt Graham move away; the Reiki session was over.

Slowly, I allowed my body to awaken. I felt refreshed and light, after my journey into the Purple. There were lessons here, to be mulled over at my leisure.

For now, for this one moment, I enjoyed the relaxation and serenity I felt throughout every cell in my body. It would take awhile before the negative gremlins returned...and I wondered if perhaps they'd stay away, if I only remembered the Purple.

It will take practice, to feel as well as at the end of my journey to the Purple City. I was shown how well I could feel, and I was shown how amazing it really is, when Body, Mind and Spirit are in balance and in sync.

More answers will arrive; they always do after a Reiki treatment.

I wanted relaxation and balance; as usual, the Universe sent me so much more than I could ever imagine.

Recollections

Recently, I've had the urge to minimize, in all areas of my life. Cleaning closets, cupboards and storage sheds give me immense satisfaction; I feel much lighter, far more in control when I have taken the detritus from the past, looked, remembered and then let them go.

Sometimes it can be painful. Then there can be joy, as well, as when a small hooded sweater, one that would fit a newborn, falls at my feet...and I remember my babies, both of whom wore the unbelievably soft pale pink garment.

When I kept it, I thought my grandchildren, if they were girls, would keep warm and cosy in it; I honestly believed this, when I was a young mother. How could anyone not want their newborn baby wrapped in this beautiful little outfit?

There were many such sweaters. But this pink one...the colour of it, the softness, the type of knit...a Mother's love was encapsulated within the very woollen texture of it. My love.

Heidi was the first to wear it. Her beautiful blue eyes peeked through the frill of wool, with grave wonder and such interest in the World she found herself in. Heidi was one of most aware babies I have known; her son is very much the same as she, in that he must know what is going on around him.

She grew out of it very quickly, and I mourned as I placed it for safekeeping. No other piece of clothing she had was as soft as this one, this delicate wisp of sweet pink.

I wrapped it carefully in tissue paper. I took great care with it, each time we moved, to keep it safe.

Katrina was the second baby that wore the thistledown pink sweater. Her deep brown eyes watched and accepted the World, through the frill of pink. She was the most peaceful baby I have known, filled with serenity. When she wore the sweater, she would send me the greatest consistently amiable energy; when I held her, my heart would fill...she had the ability to calm any agitation I might have had. This gift would sustain others, for the rest of her short life.

The sweater was again wrapped, after I could no longer squeeze her into it. But it was wrapped rather hurriedly this time; I knew I could have no more children. The Big C took care of my feminine organs; life was harried and very, very full.

Bree came along. I still had the pink sweater, wrapped in yellowed tissue paper. But it was twenty years later. Fashions had changed. And my lovely pink sweater was no longer as pristine as the new fashions...the new sweaters Bree received. And Katrina needed to find her own pink sweater for Bree...one that was infused with a Mother's love. Her love.

But I kept it, and Bree used it to dress her dolls. She chose the pink sweater for her favourite doll; when she held it, I knew deep inside she was feeling that warm, loving energy emanating from the wool.

I packed up Bree's toys when I moved; I found the pink sweater, still wrapped around her doll. She had long grown out of playing with baby dolls; her interests now were centred around sports and hobbies more suited to her age.

I donated the doll; I kept the pink sweater, not so carefully this time. But as I rubbed it against my cheek, the loving energy once more engulfed me; I could not consign it to the rag bin. I took that piece of my life with me, once again...to help me meet the huge Wave of change crashing down upon me with strength and grace.

And then, Graydon came along, bursting upon our family, filled with masculine energy. Certainly he had no need for a tattered pink sweater. But as I hold him, sometimes I visualize my babies wrapped in a swath of pink...and I feel, once again, that pure loving energy...a Grandmother's love. My love.

When it fell against my feet, as I searched through the bag of memories, I picked it up and brushed it off and felt the warm, pink softness, piercing my heart like a true and sure arrow of love.

And in a flash, I had a vision of soft, pure feminine energy...an ethereal wisp of energy. I saw blond curls...I was given a glimpse of a gentle soul...one, I realized, that has yet to appear.

I understood, suddenly, that the pink sweater still has a purpose, as I held it gently in my hands.
This time, I placed it near me in my office. I make sure to give as much respect as I can muster for this tattered piece of pink, this object that has collected my past, and kept the best of the whole.

Minimizing is great. But some things...the ones infused with pieces of my soul...those are the ones that are given a place of honour. They are my talismans.

The Pink Sweater surely belongs amongst them.

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.