The Fast

The Fast

I don’t know why they call it the fast because while I’m doing one, the time goes super slow.  Especially when I’m in the house with other people happily munching away on all my favorites.  There’s nothing fast about it.

The fast was first introduced to me by my colorectal specialist and it was enhanced with something to drink that smells like wet dog, tastes much the same and makes the insides squeaky clean after drinking it.  That and the 50 million trips to the washroom.  To make the experience even more special, he had me end the fast with a 20-minute session with a garden hose like tube inserted up my rear end (with a camera on it)!  My point being, I won’t forget it too soon.  So, when my friend and healer, Leonard, told me to do a 4-day prayer fast, I had flashbacks and went into evasive maneuvers to avoid having to do it.   Realistically I have prayed my way through every fast I have ever had to do.  What would be different or revealing about this one?

I’m a slow mover, so after a few months of mulling it over, I decided I would do it.  I knew I couldn’t do the traditional native way of no food or drink for 4 days.  I was born with a serious heart defect and had open heart surgery when I was 10 years old.  Against the word of every doctor who examined me as a child, I am still here!  My heart issue at this point is considered benign and will remain that way if I take care of myself.  Exercise and eating well are the first two points and I could ward off this fast if ‘eating well’ was on the list because for that, one must eat!

In my life, as a healer, if something is spiritually suggested (comes through in meditation or prayer as a vision) and I don’t take that advice, life makes a  happenstance to make it a necessity! That is exactly what came about.  Powerful prayer became important to do as I watched a very close friend struggle in his life.  I felt that I should do the fast for him and his higher good for resolution.  I meditated to find a way to overcome the fear of dropping from a heart attack.  The stress on the body of 4 days of no food and no water in 32C with no air-conditioning weighed on my mind.  It sounded like suicide.  Trust in God sounds easy but when it goes against scientific knowledge, it can really play on the mind.

Through prayer and meditation, I was given instructions to modify the fast.  Hunger was the important element to experience in this case to increase the power of the prayer and gain the insight I needed.  Spirit (AKA:  the invisible people) had spoken!  Done!

I chose my dates, made the broth (as spiritually directed), set up a support person and had everything there at my disposal – as needed.  The 4 days went well overall.  Where there would have been the grief of dehydration in the traditional fast, I had the grief of diarrhea in the modified one.  Every swallow of liquid that entered my mouth, exited the other side with vengeance.  Those tricky invisible people know what they are doing!  By day three the answers had been given and I wondered why it would be 4 days if the insight was already there?  I was pleased and surprised with day 4 to find that it was a day of giving thanks and gratitude.  The fast had worked and worked well! Then came the part of executing in my life the things that revealed themselves on day three.  I could make a difference in this person’s life only by leaving it.  Looking back, I now see the necessity and am very happy I did the fast and made the changes.

Since then, each fast has been different.  The most recent one being in the first week of December.  It was the most difficult one yet but also the most clearing.  I didn’t connect well with this fast during it.  I didn’t have a sense of purpose other than its for me so there was no focus to remind myself of why I should embrace the hunger and learn from it.  Life is good and I have been taking challenges in stride.  I have been having the time of my life snacking on chocolate and potato chips every day.  I’m in a good space!  Why should I be fasting?

Chips and chocolate! Who can ask for better? Sweet and salty in every bite!

The hunger was a beast for all 4 days this time.  The first 36 hours was without food or drink.  I still had to do a few healing sessions each day except for one of them, which isn’t the norm.  There is no working during a fast.  It is focused on caring for self the entire time.  Not this time!

Each day of it I figured the next day would be the one I would connect with and feel purpose for the feeling of starvation.  My partner is also very spiritually strong but finds it amusing that I listen to my guides so intently.  He told me that if he was my spirit guide that he would totally mess with me and tell me to do all kinds of things, like fasting, just for his own amusement.  I got an image of a group of wise looking spirits in robes laying down their money as my ‘how to safely starve yourself’ guide looks over and says, “$20 says I can get her to starve herself for 4 straight days!’  Then there would be hordes of laughter as they put their money down on lucky number 4.  Another guide stepping up to say, ‘I will put an extra $5 on her quitting on day 3.’  “No way!” yells my partner’s guide, getting in on the action. “Have you seen how she’s been piling chocolate down her neck lately?  She’s not making it past the first night!”

Well!  I showed them!  Mostly anyway.  I only had one booboo when I took a nano-gram of lucuma powder on my finger to taste, to see if it would be good to put in chocolate.  As the beautiful fruit powder melted on my tongue, my brain went into warning alerts.  Then I remembered I was abstaining and didn’t go for a second taste.  (I guess someone’s guide lost 20 bucks!)

I made it through all 4 days and nights.  The last evening I fought myself as the beautiful smell of my son’s lasagna wafted through the house, assaulting my senses and setting my stomach roaring like a mad cow.  I wanted to cry.  I convinced myself that I would stay up to midnight so I could eat but sleep had different plans for me.  When I woke in the morning, the hunger was gone.  Magically disappeared.  I just wanted tomato juice.  2 liters of it to be exact.  I spent the day catering to the cravings and honoring what my body was asking for in a complete state of peace.  I didn’t question it.  I trusted.

Although I started out questioning the fast, I still did it and I am happy I did!

My insights from the fast:

  • My body/heart is stronger than I give it credit for. Thankfully!
  • Onions and garlic really don’t do me any favors. I should abstain as much as possible.
  • I am an emotional eater and must work on that.
  • I love food! I enjoy the tastes and textures.  They are a true pleasure in my life.
  • The tastes are massively enhanced after abstaining and I am grateful for the experience of tasting the foods for the first time again. I am grateful for having food to eat!
  • I feel clean. Not like a shower kind of clean.  Energetic and vibrant.  Clear in mind and body.  Spiritually on point and focused.  Very present.
  • The big bonus is that my writers block lifted! I got up and wrote a blog post AND had the energy to go through and figure out how to post it!  Yay me!  Lol

Note:  It is recommended you see your doctor for a complete checkup before doing a fast.  You should never do one without your doctor’s consent.  A fast is mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically taxing and should never be attempted without proper support in place. This includes NOT being alone during the fast. 

The Year Santa Died

sad child

Blog  Note: all names have been changed (barely) to protect the innocent and the insolent except for the names of my 4 sisters!

Picture this: Me in school in Grade 4.  It was the latter part of mid-December and as one of the oldest kids in my class, I was 10 years old.  Reading period had started and there was a group of us kids standing around the bookshelves looking at Hardy Boys books, deciding which title would be the most interesting read. Miss Haley, our teacher, had stepped out of the room to copy some Christmas activity sheets.

There was a cacophony of chatter as a huddle formed at the Nancy Drew books end of the shelves.  Everyone was shooting looks across the room.  It appeared to be directed at Reanne and Taren.  Their faces were matching their fiery red hair.  I was curious as to what was going on.  Billy, Beryl and Nic were joined by one of the boys and there was a huddle of whispering and giggling.  One of the girls approached me laughing.  She said, ‘You are not going to believe this!  Taren and Reanne still believe in Santa Clause!”

I searched her eyes to see if she was serious.  Could this be true?  All eyes went to Taren and Reanne as this girl exuberantly delivered the news. My searching went to all faces including the reddened faces of the ginger best friends.  Both girls were hating the attention being brought their way.  I felt for them.  The most shy, quiet and sweet little red heads ever were the brunt of this negative attention.

“Can you believe it?” Billy said.  I pulled my voice back into my body, still wondering as I searched face to face, “Can this be true?  Like REALLY true?? Is it a big lie that parents carry on with?  There is NO Santa?”  I felt heart sick but there was no way I was going to show it with seeing what was being thrown Reanne and Taren’s way.

“No way!” I responded to her.   I chose in that moment not to stand where my belief was.  I was with Taren and Reanne but I was really hoping they were all joking. Wanting to avoid the laughing and mocking, I pretended that I too, knew there was no Santa.  I went and talked with Taren and Reanne, never telling them my beliefs.  “Is it true you still believe in Santa?” I asked.  When they said yes, I looked back at the jeering group, nodded and gave a little smile.  I was with them.  Not my proudest moment but the only thing I could think of to cover my inner turmoil and not become the center of this attention.  All the while waiting to get home and investigate.

I stormed through the door to find my mom not at home.  Neither was my older sister, Florence or my baby sister Lynette.  My partners in crime, the other two middle sisters, Sherry and Juana came in close behind me carting the same news I had received.  We were in disbelief and wanting to show it wasn’t true.  There IS a Santa and I’m going to prove it!

We set out on a quest to prove them all wrong and sat down to devise a plan.  If it wasn’t Santa who delivered the gifts, it had to be our parents.  That in turn meant that the gifts would have to be hidden somewhere around the house.  Especially this close to Christmas.   We checked under my parent’s bed.  In the closet.  In the dresser.  In the space under the house.  Everywhere we could think to look.  There was nothing to find.  Then we looked at the attic hatch.  One last place to look to set this thing to rest once and for all.

We helped each other negotiate through the house with the ladder.  Not knowing how much time before Mom would be back from grocery shopping, we had to be quick.  I went up the ladder first and pushed the hatch up and out of the way.  I stuck my head through the opening and was disappointed to see that there was a pile of brand new, unopened games and toys.  It wasn’t long before two other heads popped up into view.  One blonde and one brunette.   They sat above the ceiling with me, exploring the treasures we had found.  Happy and sad all at once, we opened a couple of games that were not sealed, played with them and put them back.   We went back down the ladder and removed it from the house.

I couldn’t deny what I had just seen but I wasn’t ready to accept it.  There was still a way.  I would know for sure on Christmas morning when there would be ‘different’ things under the tree than the items we had just explored and played with.  I held out hope that this would be the truth of Christmas morning.

The next day, Taren and Reanne were back on track with their firm belief in Santa.  I envied them.  I wanted that back.  I was so unsure of everything.  Their parents reinforced that they didn’t have to believe what everyone else did.  They should believe what they believe and there really is a Santa.  I hadn’t said a word to my folks so no reinforcements for me. (Too paranoid that if there was no Santa and I told Mom and Dad, then I was too old for presents…and I wanted the presents!)   I wanted to have that blind belief and trust again.  Just like yesterday before all the hullabaloo broke out.  (Blog Note:  Taren and Reanne got the privilege of Santa for another Christmas before our grade 5 substitute teacher meanly announced to the class that nobody should be believing in Santa at this age.  Santa dies again!)

Christmas morning came.  I woke in the middle of the night, woke my 4 sisters and we stormed the living room where our tree was standing.  Florence plugged in the lights and we began looking for our names on the gifts.  As we tore through the paper, we found exactly what we had seen and played with in the attic.  I wanted to cry.  There was nothing else.  No Santa.  Santa was dead… and I had to deal with it.

dead santa

That Christmas was a very sad one for me.  The morning Santa died held no mystery or magic for me.  Even if I had poked at other presents and guessed them, I could count on Santa for the surprise.

What we found in the attic space had changed me for life.  Before our gift opening, I used to poke and shake anything with my name on it.  Guessing and wondering what it was.  I was always excited to see how close my guess was when I got to open it.  That came to an abrupt halt!  I no longer shake, rattle or roll gifts to try to guess what they are. No early peeking.  I won’t let anyone give me hints!  I don’t want to know!

I found out that day that I like the magic of not knowing.  I enjoy wondering and I love the wait.  I absolutely adore being in the moment of Christmas morning and watching people open their gifts.  The expressions and excitement fills my heart which is why I chose to engage in the charade of Santa with my two sons, Peter and Ryan.  They appear to be none the worse for wear for my selfish indulgence and I expect they will choose to have their children awake for Santa when/if they choose to have children.

A few years after Santa’s fatal day, I found the story of Saint Nicholas and was happy to know that there was a way for Santa to live again.  I didn’t have to go through the Victor Frankenstein processes to bring Santa back.  He could live through me and my actions all year long.  It didn’t have to be just at Christmas time.  Although there was no physical manifestation of a chubby man in a red suit with reindeer, he is alive and well; Living in the hearts of all who hold the spirit of giving.  


Alive in our hearts!

My Fairy Blogmother

Dear Fairy Blogmother,

I can’t sleep.  I know I have been neglectful of my blog and I’m really sorry.  I try and I try but my computer hangs up or the internet goes down….it makes me wonder if I’m supposed to be blogging at all.  Realistically; what do I know about properly putting information out into the blogosphere???  I was only just informed that I’m ‘supposed to’ research other people’s blogs and ‘link’ them to my blog to keep mine fresh and interesting.

Fresh and interesting?  Isn’t it freshly written?  Isn’t it interesting enough that it’s a new blog and I have only made a few entries?  Plus, I am putting in which ever picture I manage to find to represent the topic (totally interesting)!

Fairy Blogmother, Dearest….  I don’t understand why I can’t post what’s important or appealing to me in hopes that other people with common interests will read and enjoy it.  I would certainly rather that!

I promise to work harder on posting once a week if you can help me make it look pretty and keep me from screwing up the lovely website that Rick Gold made for me.    Thank you Fairy Blogmother!

I love you and I look forward to your next visit!



The Codependent Infrastructure

Over the years I have watched trends come and go.  Clothes, food and word usage appear to be the most common of the many fads.  When I think of trendy words, I think back to the word “deadly” in the 80’s.  It was used everywhere with the cool folk to express how wonderful something was.  Now “deadly” has been dead and buried for quite some time and I am making the realization that it’s not just street talk that gets the fashion trend in words.  As it turns out, there are ‘smart words’ too!  They tend to be used as catch-alls for when officials don’t have much to say but need to sound smart saying it.  These words are usually pulled out to ensure funding for _______(insert project name here)____.   Like the greatly overused ‘infrastructure’.  I remember being at a school council meeting for my children’s elementary school many years ago and the principal giving a pitch to get some of the parent council’s money for ‘the schools infrastructure’.  Sounds really important!  Quick!  Pass it over!

Never mind!  On closer examination, maybe not!  I don’t think that the teacher appreciation luncheon having catering staff vs. parent volunteers plays much of a part in the stability of the schools foundation.  Since that day, the word has annoyed me.  Every politician seems to sling that word out and I can almost hear him/her before they take the stage; arguing with their speech writers that they won’t be taken seriously unless that word is in there at least 6 times.  Then there is the issue of them not being prepared.  That brings on the consolation pep talk: ‘Don’t worry about it ol’ buddy, just say ‘infrastructure’ a few times and they will think you know what you are talkin’ about.  Makes ya sound like you were up all night studyin’!’

Infrastructurally speaking, this blog will not be memorable if I do not fit that word in here several more times.  What about my credibility as a healer???  On that note, I will tell you that my technique in healing helps the individual increase stability to their personal infrastructure.  Better?

Now that ‘infrastructure’ is down to about half of its previous slogging usage (except in this blog), the word ‘codependent’ is on the rise.  Make no wonder it is!  When you look at the long list that wiki has in print for its definition, it actually IS relevant to everyone.  Try to find someone who does not have a single trait on that list!  As it turns out, we are all codependent.

As a healer, I have my own little set of labels for work.  For the word codependence to come to my mind there has to be harm from the dependency.  However, I have been hearing it used on stay at home moms because they are taking care of the children and depend on their husbands for the income.  The husbands depend on them, in turn, to keep things at home running smoothly.  That’s codependent??  Sure!  That life may drive some of us mad over time, but that is (I believe) a relationship with negotiated terms and agreements.  It’s more accurately, ‘cooperatively dependent’.  With the great codependent overuse at hand, it makes me wonder if my older sister and I were in a codependent relationship as children.  She only ate egg whites and I was the bad girl who only ate the yokes.  We always asked for eggs together so we could maximize the number of whites and yolks we got to have.  We rarely asked for eggs without each other.  I am stricken with fear to hear what that may mean…..  could it be Ovo-codependence???  (Proven by the harm coming to me for all the yummy goodness of the yolks, now turned to cholesterol demons.) Not to worry though, we live thousands of miles apart now and have managed not to crack without the egg sharing relationship.  (ha)

As trends go, who knows which word will be grabbed onto next?  Most likely it will be a word someone throws together just to see if it will take.  I think it should be fundiculous – something that’s ridiculously fun to do.  For now, I sit and trust that those dreaded, overused words will eventually balance in usage, just as Trans fatty acids have.  I haven’t noticed that on a label lately.  However, I have been seeing a much higher rise in ‘vegan’!  Followed by ‘raw food vegan’….. And I await with great anticipation the ‘macrobiotic raw food vegan’ movement!  I’m sure that’s not a fad.

The Clearing Bath

About 6 weeks ago I was supposed to go out with a friend for a fun night but had to cancel because I was feeling under the weather.  Instead of going on without me, this amazing woman showed up at my house that night with a full complement of home remedies to help me get back on my feet again.  There were ingredients for fresh ginger tea, a camphor concoction to help keep my breathing clear and Epsom salts to soak and cleanse away the bug.

I usually take a salt bath at least a few times a week, especially if I have a full day of energy work freshly behind me.  It helps to clear foreign energy and is known to detoxify the body, bringing it back to a balanced state of health.   These salts looked interesting to me because they were ‘lavender’.  Unknown to my dear friend Anette is my association of lavender to the distinct aroma of feces.  I worked for many years at a facility that did hydro colonic treatments (power enemas), and the room was located next to our lunch room.  The colonics room had a spray to refresh the room after the final bowel evacuation, which was scented…you guessed it….lavender.  After many years of choking down bites of food mixed with the smell of lavender poo, I have not been able to have anything lavender on me or near me.  It just smells like poo now!  I thanked Anette for the wonderful, thoughtful gift, as well as the love and nurturing she was providing to me.  I used the other items immediately but the lavender salts sat behind the toilet (where all things poo like should be) for over a month.  Every time I was in the bath, I looked over at the lavender salt and thought about the negative associations that I had to my former work place.  I’m not saying it was a completely horrible place; it was a great place to work for a long time and gave me many experiences that I really enjoyed.  The downside of working there was actually what gave me the push I needed to get me onto the path I am now travelling and loving!  However, ‘Me’ and ‘Lavender’ never saw eye to eye since then.

Last week I ran out of my regular unscented salts.  I thought of using my cooking salt but instead I decided to face my fear.  I would try the lavender salt.  Worst case scenario is that I get into the tub, smell poo, let the tub drain and take a shower.  At least my energy would be cleansed! I filled the tub and put in the salt, surprisingly, it did not smell like feces.  It smelled refreshing and wonderful, the way lavender smelled before the colonic room made its impression.  I had a wonderful bath where the temperature stayed perfect for the full 20 minutes and I felt both refreshed and relaxed at the end of it.  The avoidance of using the salts ended up doing me a huge favor and had me work through my issues before even introducing it to my bath.  Thank you Anette for (unbeknownst to you), helping me get past this hang-up…and letting me love lavender again!  I love you girlfriend!

P.S. 1 ½ C to 2C epsom salts for a regular or high soaker tub for 20 minutes is the recommended amount!  Enjoy!

Random Acts of Kindness

I watched the movie, Mrs. Doubtfire a few days ago and was amused at the scene where Robin Williams (as Mrs. Doubtfire) hurled a piece of fruit at hot and sexy Pierce Brosnan, bouncing it off his head and exclaiming, ‘it was a drive by fruiting.’  As it turns out, you can have lots of different ‘drive by’ actions.  I, myself got to experience a drive by hugging this week!  I kid you not!

I was surprised three times in one day by unexpected doorbell rings….the first was religious proselytizers, the second was a surprise in that I forgot anyone was coming by to pick up forgotten stuff,  and the third was the ‘drive by hugging’.  After the doorbell rang, I looked out the peep hole and saw the top of a woman’s head.  The hair style led me to believe it was my youngest son’s girlfriend.  I instantly thought that she had shown up thinking her beau was here; not realizing he was at his dad’s that night.  When I opened the door to deliver the bad news, it was not my dear little daughter in law to be!  It was one of my close friends who happened to be driving by (15 minutes out of her way) to give me a hug because she was thinking about me and had not seen me in a while.  Less than 2 minutes and several hearty hugs later, she was out the door and off to her evening festivities.  It was wonderful!  Thank you Lisa for being such an amazingly spontaneous and thoughtful woman!  To those of you who have never had a drive by hugging…or given one… it might be time to put it on the bucket list.

Welcome to my first blog!

OH the pressure of the first blog entry!  Having a sister with a Blog being published as a book sets the rails really high….so I have decided not competing is the best route for me.  I have changed my opening topic none less than 100 times and stared blankly at the computer screen for longer than I would like to admit.   I wonder if I have to write about something in the news, something significant to healing and readings or if I can just write.  I decided to just write…

This week was wonderful and my joy is a direct result of a difficult decision made last week.   I have been in a 2 year program for spiritual healing and last Thursday evening, I decided it was best for me not to continue.  This is January and graduation is in April and I was telling myself it would be really easy to stick it out and get the certificate.  I had gone through my normal pre-class activity of weighing the pros and cons 2 weeks earlier and had settled on the decision that I would continue and finish with the group.  Each weekend of class is 2 levels and since levels 9 and 10, I have been convincing myself to go.  I didn’t know why it did not feel right to me but others I spoke to about it seemed to think it was fear of moving forward and facing new challenges etc…  I decided it could be that and went to the classes anyway.

Last Thursday morning, I woke feeling great about the upcoming class and the sound therapy session I had booked later that day.  I went off to sound therapy with a light heart and feeling open to whatever may come from it.  The first thing the therapist asked me was, “If you had a magic wand and could give yourself anything right now, what would it be?”  I answered, “I would like peace of mind.”

The therapist gave me her findings as to the source of the restless mind and everything she said was very accurate.  I could not dismiss what she brought forth as it was so clear.  She had no way to know any of those things about my life, nor was she aware that those things were all related to my classes.  The session concluded that I should seriously consider not continuing with the current classes.  As those words left her lips, I felt lighter.   Like I had given myself permission to quit but not feel like a quitter.  I had a flood of thoughts that further clarified for me that I really didn’t want to continue.  I wasn’t avoiding doing work on myself by not going.  I had no fear of moving forward, this class in certain ways, was holding me back.

As the weekend passed, I missed my friends (soul mates) and our interactions and lunch chats, but I know in my heart it was the best decision for me.  Since then, my whole world has started opening up again and I made a further realization that I had started feeling somewhat limited when I had committed to this class and sticking to the ‘rules’ of the class.  I don’t regret the time or money spent because I met so many wonderful people and learned so much about myself through it.  I am also grateful for this lesson!  Now I know to pay more attention to how I feel and honor it – even if it is something that is deemed to be for my betterment.  After all, I know not every size 8 shoe is going to fit my foot comfortably.  I just have to feel for the right fit!