Yesterday

For the first time in this life, I looked after my baby grandson for a very short hour. I live in another town from my family, and I have not had the opportunity to do so any earlier. I was lucky enough that my care fell during his social time, right after a feeding. He was content; and so was I, in spades.

As his parents left, a little unsure of the whole idea, I think, as parents of newborns can be, I told little Graydon that we were going to use this time to get to know one another; he was not to instantly fall asleep, as is his wont.

Graydon and I discovered the piano. I pressed one key at a time and Grady's wriggly body went still, as he listened to the fading note. He had a look of intense concentration, holding my gaze, and then waving his fists once again, until another note sounded. I detected wonder in his eyes, as the vibrations of the notes filled his being...and then I played a series of four or five keys. I could feel his soul want to dance, as those notes tinkled...I could feel him want to laugh. I giggled for him, for his soul which wanted to move and play. I detected impatience in him, impatience at the limitations imposed by his baby body.

We wandered to the window. His eyes closed against the bright light and he squinted at Maple Tree, just unfurling his leaves. I opened the door, and he felt the breeze that whispered over his body...what secrets was Wind telling him, or was it only a welcoming kiss?

But it felt chilly to this grandmother, and so I tried to close the door, but Graydon's little body tensed...warning signals from a one-month old baby...so I let the lullaby from Wind caress his soul a little longer. Again, the look of intense concentration, and the look of pleasure.

The baby is more or less on a schedule; at this first time in caring for him alone, I didn't want to change anything! I was told he would be awake for perhaps half an hour, so I made every minute count as we told each other stories, of the past and of the dreams of the yet-to-be.

We burped, he and I, as I tried to teach him how...I am not a good, satisfactory burper. So I understood Graydon's dilemma in not knowing how to do this thing that is so essential for all babies, if the parents are ever going to get any rest. We tried different positions, I showed him on his body where the burp should come from. He succeeded a couple of times, and we celebrated each hard fought for burp.

And then there was the unforgettable chuckle, with the widest, crooked grin...a gas smile and hiccup in one, probably, but I believe he gave me a giggle...one of those soft, tug-at-the heartstrings baby chortles. It didn't just tug at my heart...that soft, sighing sound of a happy baby melted it.

I sensed him fighting sleep; it was time. I recognize the fight to stay awake and aware; it is my legacy to all my children. And so, I'm an expert at this one. I bundled him in a soft, blue, fleecy blanket, held him close to my chest, and sang some of the soft, silly songs of childhood. He became still, his eyes unblinking. They would droop, he would sigh...and then, open his eyes wide, trying so hard.... But his body's need for sleep overrode his desire to stay awake.

I had decided to find his mother's chair, the one where she feeds him, when it was apparent he was ready for sleep. The smell of his mother, the familiar surroundings, and the ultra comfortable chair we were sitting in that almost lulled me to sleep did the trick...he was soon sleeping soundly.

And there we sat, he and I, me drinking in his face and the feel of his warm body next to mine, and Graydon sleeping deeply. We were there when his parents came home.

Our solitary interlude, our first intense bonding, on the day of his first month on Earth...yesterday was a gift every grandparent shares the very first time caring for their new grandbaby.

It may differ in culture; it may differ in language, but the end result is the same...a strong link, a chain of love, is formed when we open our hearts wide to the unblinking gaze of a newborn grandchild, in solitary communion.

Magical Afternoon

I had the most magical day yesterday.

It didn't start out that way. Wind howled the night away; I'm one of those people who have to sleep with the window open...and consequently, the drapes were almost horizontal at times with the power of Wind's blasts.

And it was cold, outside the cocoon I made next to Graham in our ultra comfortable bed, under the duvet. It was dark. It was the middle of January, and that morning there was no way I could convince myself that Spring was just around the corner.

Closing the window, I saw the snow...blowing every which way with the power of Wind. I felt the driven snowflakes bite my arm as I reached to close the window. It didn't look as if this Storm was going to end any time soon.

But North Wind did his job; the blizzard blew itself out after a few hours, leaving behind a foot and a half of snow, crippled traffic... and a beautiful, wide, clear blue sky. Sun poured his warmth over the snowy landscape, making the light so bright! Clean and new.

But Wind still blew...and therein lay the magic. Sun's rays were weak, unable to pierce the penetrating cold coming from the North. But after two months of high Winds and terrible Storms...this cold Winter's day beckoned me to come outside. And play a little.

Normally, I stay out of cold weather; it brings on an attack of arthritis pain. But North Wind, suddenly behaving like a newborn foal, kicked snow about...kicked up sprays of iridescent flakes, all colours of the rainbow.

Grandfather Tree shook his branches, ridding himself of the heavy piles of snow. The whole yard glittered and shone for a moment, as these fine snow particles found new homes.

There was a clear expanse of just snow. Hills and valleys of shrubbery showed here and there, mounds of suggestive vegetation, branches poking through the coverlet of snow, delineated the garden beds. It was the kind of expanse I loved as a child...the kind where no one had disturbed the pristine beauty of Snow in its purest form.

Wind sent a billow of Snow my way, covering me from head to foot with those icy particles. For a moment, until the snow melted, my glasses were covered. I had a close-up look at the yard through sparkly, light-filled lens.

There was a song in the Wind...I picked up on clear, light tinkling music as Wind frolicked with the Snow. It was joyful, sharp and bright. The high-pitched, unearthly symphony filled me with joy and crystal clear thinking.

And suddenly, the weighty problems that held sway inside the house were lifted. I felt a surge of joy...I knew I had to run into the clean expanse of snow...I had to make sure my steps were the first to mar that perfect surface.

I lowered myself onto the Snow and began to make a Snow Angel. The dogs were delighted! The Snow Angel was perfect...the best one I think I've ever made.

I kicked snow high in the air, watching Wind grasp each individual snowflake, and whirl it around in a wonderful waltz. The dogs caught my excitement, and ran barking in circles, trying to catch the elusive snowflakes in their mouths.

I took shovelfuls of the powdery, light as down snow, and threw the mass at the dogs...this Snow was far too dry to make snowballs. I shovelled the walks, shook mounds of Snow off of the shrubbery, filled the bird feeder...and basked in the slight warmth I felt from Sun's rays.

And all the while, I stayed in the perfect moment...the moment of right now. While I was there, there were no problems. I allowed my emotional, mental, spiritual and physical bodies to centre, to find that perfect spot where all is balanced. I allowed myself to be cleansed by North Wind's sharp and piercingly clear gusts, leaving a joyous peace behind.

At one point, to make the afternoon taste like perfection, Eagle soared overhead, riding a stream of Wind. He dipped and circled, stopping the dogs, who watched him fly lower and lower, as he left his message from Spirit. Take heart, Eagle cried, gather your courage...and follow the joy your heart desires. Take flight and soar!

This afternoon entailed a simple couple of hours in the middle of a weekday; it started with a blast of Northern Air, bringing with it a blizzard that covered all the detritus laying about from the previous Wind Storms that have battered the West Coast...and ended with a Snow Angel, a message from Eagle...and clear, clear thinking.

Sometimes the home I love becomes too enclosing, too enveloping. Sometimes cabin fever hits with a vengeance. Sometimes, in January, I just have to grab what the Universe offers, as cold as it might be, and make it into a magical afternoon.

Weather Sensitive

Sometimes, more and more often lately with the aberrant weather patterns in Qualicum Beach...I wake up with my body aching. I feel swollen, skin hot to the touch, stiff and sore.

This malady has everything to do with what's happening with the weather. For as long as I can remember, I've known the weather is changing by the way my body is reacting.

Many times lately, I will get up out of the warm, soft, absolutely comfortable bed, and try to lessen pain by walking around. But it feels, when I walk, as if I am slogging through an oozing bog. It feels as if there is resistance to movement.

Sometimes, I feel as if I might be on the receiving end of a migraine attack. If Wind is howling, as it has so often lately, asthma and wheezing occur. This is when my chest feels tight, I have trouble finding enough air to breathe...I almost feel as if I were under water. With small, shallow breaths, anxiety occurs...a kind of free- floating form that has no basis in fact. My tissues swell, sometimes. There is a definite feeling of being under a heavy substance, one that is pressing hard on my diaphragm.

Biometeorology is the study of how weather influences people. It is the name given to an ancient science that has become new again, with advanced technology that can evaluate air mass configurations. It is becoming a popular field. But there are naysayers...it will always be thus, of course.

I know many people who know of someone who is weather-sensitive. There are many stories of an elder Uncle or Aunt who could predict weather changes with such accuracy that outdoor events were scheduled according to the pain in her hip. Many stories abound about our forefathers utilizing weather indicators, including intuitive body signs. Still, these are just myths and legends, scientists say...much more data needs to be collected before they will endorse the correlation between weather and man.

However, in Europe, the weather services there use daily public advisories to inform people of more than 40 ailments believed affected by climate activity. Illnesses warned against include allergies, stroke, psychoses, general achiness and malaise, migraines, along with the obvious...heat and cold related illnesses. Much the same information appears on the weather channel I use on the Internet, but it takes a back seat to other information.

My allergies get worse during sudden cold outbreaks, when there are below normal temp- eratures, strong, gusty winds and a rapid rise in air pressure. I have learned to read a barometer very well in preparation for pain.

I find that quickly approaching weather fronts and rapidly departing ones, contribute to a migraine attack. And strokes...French researchers have found there were fewer strokes suffered in warmer months and more strokes where there was a temperature drop five days before. The theory is temperature drops may affect blood clotting, thereby increasing stoke risk. Sudden, extreme winter cold can result in hyperventilation, stroke and heart attack, by making blood 20% thicker than normal.

Chinese Emperor Hwang Ti, in 2650 BC, believed that "hot weather strengthens the heart, while cold weather weakens the lungs." Hippocrates advised his students "Doctors who want to know their patients had better know weather." Dr. Benjamin Rush, an 18th Century Penn- sylvanian physician, stated "Great and sudden (weather) changes may be considered the principle causes of disease in this state".

And Dr. Joseph Hollander, in the 1960's, as an Arthritis specialist, built a two room, airtight chamber, where his patients underwent various degrees of pain, while he adjusted humidity, temperature and barometric pressure. I wonder if Dr. Hollander himself was weather- sensitive. I can't imagine the extreme pain and terrible discomfort his patients felt.

Weather is one of the most basic of daily stresses the human body experiences. Frequent climactic changes bring new situations our bodies must adjust to. Changes in the barometric pressure, Wind direction and velocity, humidity and pollutants all affect our bodies, endocrine systems, nervous systems and cardiovascular systems. It seems to me that how well I feel at different times is directly related to what's happening in the atmosphere.

Both our dogs can forecast the weather. The signs of an incoming Storm will find them both pointing their nose skyward, with definite fearful body signals, such as lowered heads and ears, and tails tucked between their legs. This behavior is noticed long before the Storm actually arrives. Other animals such as Corn Snake or Iguana, if confused by weather signals, will double-clutch, where they will breed twice in a year instead of the normal once.

I don't require corroboration by the scientific community to know what my body endures when the weather patterns change. There are scores of people who, upon entering their middle years, find that what were minor twinges all along, are now not so mild in reaction to weather changes. The human body is a finely tuned instrument...it has much to tell us, if we will only remember and listen. And accept our intuition as truth.

Shamans of old long ago forecast the weather with nothing more than the signals Mother Earth sends, and nothing more than their own bodies as sensors. They were extremely accurate, by all accounts.

There is so much information inside of ourselves, just waiting to be reborn...re-membered. I am learning to find those senses we are all born with, and I am learning to trust those remarkably amazing signals my intuition sends me.

Science and research on weather sensitive people is just telling me what I, and others, have known all along. The scientific community feels it must prove the body is affected by weather patterns, by exhaustive research and collecting of data. It changes nothing; other than making sure I have a healthy diet, use exercise and reduce further stress inducing factors, I will still react to the weather...

And there is not much I can do about aberrant weather.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Held back from visiting Mom in the hospital by the inclement weather, I decided to heed the insistent voice I kept hearing... the one that whispered, ever more frantically ...It's Christmas!

Not one single thing has been done in preparation, in our house. The unearthly Storms that have pummelled Qualicum Beach and the rest of the Island have effectively stopped any baking or travelling to shop for gifts, for a couple of weeks, as power outages continue.

And time goes by.

There is another storm in the forecast for this afternoon; I intend to attempt to travel through it anyway. It has been a long time without any contact with my mother.

On Tuesday, despite another Wind Storm, I travelled down this side of the Island, to Nanaimo. This highway, although strewn with branches, is safer; I do not have to travel over a mountain pass, or beside a lake, or through Cathedral Grove to get there.

But my little truck fought hard to stay in its lane, when enormous gusts of Wind howled down the highway. By any one's standards, this Storm was intent on doing damage.

There are Trees hanging over power lines everywhere. BC Hydro is out in full force, repairing downed lines and cutting Trees that have fallen over, or been sheared off, with giant, jagged shards of naked wood reaching for the sky.

The continuing Wind and strange weather patterns have seriously hampered the repair efforts... hydro crews from Alberta are being flown in to lend a helping hand.

When I reach the Mall, I am struck by how few people are out shopping. Where are the Christmas hordes? The Storms have kept people at home...those fortunate few that still have power. And I hear stories of generators flying off shelves, and I hear of the need for people to know how to use these aids they are suddenly acquiring. Generators are meant to be used outdoors; there have been stories of death amongst the uninitiated, who use them without ventilation.

It is the middle of winter. Houses without a method of heating besides using electricity are very cold...and some people have been without power for many days, with only a promise that power may be restored by the weekend. Huge freezers holding last summer's garden bounty, along with meats, are defrosting, bringing hardship to many. Children are cold...how does one keep a baby warm in temperatures like these?

I search the faces of the shoppers. There are not many who look as if they are enjoying themselves, it seems difficult for others to meet my eyes or return my smile. Careworn, anxious eyes meet my gaze. Everyone that waits in line-ups with me has a story to share, about the weather. Not many sound excited over the forthcoming holiday...most have cancelled plans already made.

There are so many Storms in the long range forecast.

But I notice a child, looking up at the adults that surround him. His mother is intent on telling her story about how long her family has been without electricity; her son's face was becoming more and more anxious. Finally he tugged on her jacket. She brushed him off, placing her hand on his head, continuing with her story. He would not be denied, however.

His mother excused herself, for a moment, and looked down at him, her eyebrows raised. What about Santa, her son whispered, how will he find us, without lights?

I watched the adults around him, shamefacedly assuring the anxious little boy that Santa would find him, telling him all sorts of different ways Santa had at his disposal.

It was as if this child brought this small group of people, waiting in line with furrowed brows, to their senses. Suddenly the Christmas music didn't sound so manic; there was laughter...stories shared of how each one of us worried Santa wouldn't find us, at some point or another, in our childhoods.

The child, who had appeared in our midst dragging his feet, his head down, walked away with his mother with a spring in his step. All was right in his world now...even if there were no lights!

As I wandered off in search of another gift, I mused over how quickly the atmosphere changed, when happy stories, joyful stories, were remembered and shared. How quickly positive energy replaced the negative thoughts, destroying the weighty cloud that hung over us.

How lucky I felt, to be standing behind this little boy, and hearing the stories of reassurance. I needed them, too.

And suddenly, to me, it began to look...and feel...a lot more like Christmas.

A Watery World

I took a walk around the garden in pouring Rain this morning; I sloshed through Water in Puddles and small Lakes and Rivers.

Water every- where. Sounds around me are full of swishes, drips, gurgles, bubbles...and the booming song of the waves upon the Beach.

I meditated as I wandered, scarcely noticing the pelting Rain. There is an unease to my spirit these days; this morning I pinpointed the cause.

The Holiday Season is upon me. I can no longer deny it. Everything seems to be decorated. There are decisions to make...dinners and such. And once again, I will face the anniversary of my daughter Katrina's death.

It will be ten years since she moved irrevocably on...without me, her mother, to help her along her way, on December 30th. The strong, piercing pain that once throbbed within me no longer darkens December days further than wintry skies alone.

But there is still an ache. A soft, gentle ache that closes my throat, making me swallow hard. A hard knot in my solar plexus and easy tears where my emotional body needs succor completes the picture.

I don't believe it will ever lessen further. The huge, crashing waves of emotion that used to swallow me entirely are no longer as large and overwhelming. Smaller, softer waves of longing and sadness now tickle my toes...just enough to keep me aware of that heavy ache Katrina's death left with me.

She was my child. There is a disorder...a twist... that happens when a child dies before the parent, even if she was twenty-three. Life is not supposed to happen this way. But it did. It just did.

And it happens to many of us parents. I wanted my child to be safe; I did everything I could to do that very thing that is such an important part of parenting. I know that. And I am grateful for the time that Creator allowed Katrina to be a part of my life.

As I sloshed through the Water...Water that tugged and pulled at my emotions...I remembered some of the things Katrina taught me. One lesson that is still with me, always, is when she told me that just because she didn't show her emotions didn't mean she didn't feel them.

And there were many more lessons...Katrina's patience was legendary. Her non-judgemental attitude taught me to let things go, to not obsess wildly about events I could do nothing about. Some of her lessons did not become apparent until after her death...it was her legacy.

But I find myself wondering, at times...what would Katrina do in a case like this? And always, always the answer comes. And I carry on, knowing our family has the greatest guardian there ever was.

Acceptance, after many years of anguish and sorrow and anger, has finally arrived. I used to think, in my youth, that after someone died, I would spend a day or two in sorrow...and then "put it behind me". I used to think I knew what acceptance was.

A watery world...in which my tears flowed, just as suddenly as the strange little Rivers that have forged their way through my backyard. It felt just as cleansing as the Earth did, after sheets of Rain and gusts from Wind showered her clean.

I need to have days like this...my spirit calls out for it. I need to weep...and so I do. These are different tears than angry or happy tears. There is no end to these. Sometimes the dam they're in needs to overflow.

And a watery world is just the place to let them.

Storm Tossed

The west coast of Canada is still being pounded by Storm after Storm. These pictures were taken on the anniversary of Dad's death; there have been three storms since then, with another in the forecast for Tuesday.

We have a River running through our property now, from the empty lot next door, which requires some drainage work on the part of the absentee owners.

The dogs were hesitant to go outside with me to assess the damage to our outdoor furniture. Their eyes were as big as a child's eyes when she first sees a Christmas Tree, and blasts from Wind made them stumble. But dogs will face many terrible things in the name of protecting their loved ones...so they stayed by my side.

It was an astounding sight to see this big piece of furniture lifted high in the air, riding the strong Wind stream. The glass from the table sailed off, and landed gently, as if a giant hand held it safe, softly depositing it on the concrete sidewalk.

We have been lucky. Many, many large Trees fell...and many more will fall. Development and logging practices leave a screen of Trees around the perimeter...and these Trees do not have the strength, with no more protection from the grove of Trees they were once a part of, to withstand the force of Wind.

This was not a benign, moderate Storm. High, hurricane force Winds pummeled the land and its occupants and there was so much Water! And we hear on the news...there will be more, with the same face of the Storms that have just passed through.

With so much Water flowing, rushing everywhere...being spit over the Land by Wind, gushing Water...it was as if Earth received a cleansing. Detritus lies everywhere. All the bits and pieces of life and its beings are littered over every street and garden. Mostly useless bits. But Water washed the streets clean, with its great, Wind-driven force...the long, dusty Summer a distant memory.

The Storm, wearing a vicious, twisted face, seemed to delight in his extreme ownership of the power of Wind. I felt a few twinges of fear, until I went outside to look at the damage caused by, what seemed to me, misuse of power.

It seemed the force of the Storm grew larger, as I stood, looking at the mess, feeling anger in my heart for the unfairness of it all. I had asked for guidance, earlier, when Storm first showed his face. And I had asked that all beings were kept safe. But if my garden was any indication, there was far worse damage being done all around me, by the punishing Storm. Hence my disappointment, and yes, momentary anger with my guides and allies.

And then I heard shrieking laughter from this Trickster of a Storm. I was feeding this Storm...I was sending black negativity directly to this amorphous being. I caught myself in an instant. I heard a gentle whisper, then...there is no damage, if you will only look first...and react later.

I heard myself laughing, even as I thanked my guides for another reminder. I stood in the face of this immense being, who was tweaking my serenity...and I smiled. I looked at Grandfather Tree, who had prepared himself long ago for errant Storms, with his broad base and sparse, upper body. He smiled, too...even as a few more distinctly angry gusts of this Storm's powerful breath tossed his limbs.

We spent the day yesterday, in the company of Wind, which has never left us. He is himself once more, powerful but contained. We raked leaves and cleaned up...and there truly is no damage, except to a few pot shards here and there. The glass top survived intact.

And I hear a whispered warning... there will be more Storms, just ahead. Indeed, the weather forecast gives credence to the warning... another large, rather ugly Storm will be here tomorrow.

I felt protected throughout these Storms just passed, with the exception of the one moment of disappointment...and I expect I will weather the other Storms that come in the same manner.

And I will remember the lesson, learned in the face of the Storm.

Ocean Whispers

Have you ever wandered by the Ocean shore, and listened to the whispering of the waves, imagining what the Waters have seen? The sibilant sounds of the waves as they wash to shore can easily transport me to different realms.

I can imagine I am walking by a tropical Sea, if I want, with soft, warm breezes. Or, if a recent storm has stirred up the ocean, and a cold wind blows, perhaps I visualize myself by a northern Sea.

Ocean called me the other day. Waves were pounding on the shore, punishing the rocks and sand on the beach. Wind was howling...I had the thought that it was perfect picture taking weather. But my camera does not work well in inclement weather any more...

And so I just wandered along, enjoying the sounds and Wind without having my attention taken away by a perfect picture opportunity. And I listened to what the angry, tumultuous Ocean was trying to tell me.

There was little wildlife about this day. A few Sea Gulls swooped and swerved with Wind, calling their distinctive cry. I found a perfect rock to on which to sit, and I watched the hypnotic waves pound the sand a few feet from me. My thoughts travelled to what I had read about Water, and what its magical properties were.

Water is immensely responsive to Spiritual vibrations. Experiments done by Dr. Masara Emoto from Japan shows that the crystalline structure of water is dramatically changed by the vibrations it has been subjected to. It is a living substance, with its own life process and its own Spirit.

Theodor Shwenk (1910-1981) a hydrological engineer, proved that Earth is a living organism, with Water as its sensory organ. Water perceives vital Cosmic influences, transmitting these into Earthly life, showing, with dramatic results, how the differences in our thought patterns changes the crystalline structure of Water.

Water comes in various stages of ripeness...from juvenile water to mature water. Juvenile water is not good for our health, it needs to gather up to 33-36 different trace minerals after it falls to the earth as Rain. It seeps through Earth, gathering these minerals, and emerges as Spring Water, becoming mature in the process. Juvenile water, along with distilled water, has a mineral leaching effect on our bodies, because this Water is "hungry", needing these minerals in order to mature.

Water remembers. It absorbs the vibrational patterns from other substances in its crystalline structure, long after the actual substance has disappeared, and is no longer in the Water.

As I sat on this flat, comfortable rock, with Wind blowing water droplets from Ocean over me, I wondered if I could ask Water to remember the treasures it had surely come into contact with...the treasures of Gold from pirates long dead, or the mindset of long ago civilizations. What knowledge would Water share with me this afternoon?

As I drifted into meditation, the howl of Wind and the crashing of Ocean Waves receded, and a soft, warm breeze enveloped me. The shrill cry of the Gulls disappeared, and song birds twittered in the Forest that suddenly sprang up behind me. Waves slowly washed ashore, bringing a gentle sense of peace and well-being.

Water is Earth's sensory organ; it picked up on my thoughts and showed me how I could change, just by believing, the reality of my life. It proved this thought well this afternoon, and it has stayed with me. I have dreamt many dreams of what Water showed me that day.

Before I went to the beach, my thought patterns were all about security...a richness... I felt I didn't have. My mind was focused on debt, on health problems and a million other negative ways of thinking. I did not think I was mired in negativity; rather, I thought I was trying to find the solution. But the thoughts I was sending out to Ocean were filled with unhappiness, even if I was not aware of it.

Ocean took my thoughts, swirled them around, washing them clean, and sent them back to me.

Suddenly I was surrounded with Gold. The rocky beach turned into a long space filled with golden spheres, some large bars of gold, others small golden coins...the beach was covered in them. The Rock I sat on became a throne, embedded with jewels. I saw myself giving the bounty I was in to deserving charities, I felt myself becoming secure and happy, knowing I could do whatever I wanted to do. I heard the words...Ask and Believe.

Had I ever expressly asked for Abundance, and what it means to me? Did I believe enough to understand that if I changed my thought patterns, the Universe would send me what I required in life? What if I didn't think of debt, but of a constant flow of cash, enough for my needs and others? What if I thought of myself as healthy, instead of arthritic? The rest of life's problems...could I change my thinking, change the words I used to describe them, to more positive terms?

And would I be able to sustain the belief that with thought changes abundance in all things would occur? Water told me to Ask the Universe...that is the easy part. Even if I must remember, when I ask, that I use the proper terminology. I could ask for abundance in Cash, but I must remember, at the same time, to ask for abundance in Joy. There are many people who are wealthy who are unhappy, because they have forgotten Joy.

The hard part is believing, on a constant, flowing, ongoing basis. Every minute of the day, I must work at believing I already live with abundance. Even if I am stuck in sadness and fear...I must rework where I find myself, must find the balance and must know, deep within my soul, that the sadness and fear does not define me. It is not who I am.

Ocean's whispers, on this blustery, stormy day, told me who I am, told me I could have abundance of joy, health, money...whatever I want...in a manner I will never forget. The golden stones stay with me and permeate my dreams.

And suddenly, my dreams are filled with good things, with happiness and laughter and yes, wonderful security...enough for the rest of my life on Earth. No longer are they muddy and convoluted and sad, hard to decipher.

The human body is made up of at least 70 percent water. If water has memory, and I pollute that water in my body with negativity, could it not follow, then, that the water in my body would remember those heinous thoughts and react to them, giving me a different viewpoint than I really desire?

Water cleansed my thinking last week and changed it to a positive vibration. Ocean's whispers of other places and other times has taught me that even if I am not aware of how my thinking comes across, if it is in any way negative, the negative is attracted to more negativity, more unhappiness. It feeds on itself.

Just as joy does.

Note: This post has been entered in Kilroy's Carnival. Please visit to see other entries that were submitted. (November 19, 2007)