Stolen Souls

I considered apologising for the “heaviness” of this post, but on reflection would simply ask that if it offends, you take the option of unfollowing me; be it on twitter, tumblr or WordPress.

I remain sickened, but sadly, no longer shocked by the fact that I continue to see quips/puns about high-profile cases of abuse appearing on my timeline.

This is a vast subject and one I can’t possibly do justice to in a blog.

I honestly don’t think I have the required level of writing skills.

What I CAN voice is my belief that when a victim sees this issue being treated glibly or as a ‘joke’, any hope of reclaiming their soul moves yet further away.

I know there are people reading this who would do no such thing, and I hope you recognise this isn’t about you.

I’m speaking out because whilst I enjoy satire as much as anyone else, I remain true to the conviction that some things should be off-limits where attempts at humour are concerned.

And this is one.

The victims of these crimes are further isolated by cheap attempts at making light of what is a soul destroying plight.

Shrugging our shoulders and turning a blind eye to so called ‘humour’ is another – albeit collective – version of looking the other way.

Which, ironically, is often a component of cyclical abuse.

If you or anyone you know has been affected by recent news, The Samaritans are available to speak to in the UK on 08547 90 90 90.

Please, please reach out. They also have links to other organisations that can help.

No one has the right to steal or trample on another person’s soul.

Thanks for reading.

Lx

Laughing at God …

The Buddha said “Who angers you, controls you” and I didn’t want to write this piece in anger, but as a reflection of what I truly believe, which is that our thoughts carry energy.

So, where does anger come into this?

Well, a popular comedy writer and comedian posted a message to his followers on twitter recently saying that to tell someone you’ll pray for them is a ‘cop out’

Now, I don’t follow him because I don’t like being preached to and he’s someone who regularly preaches Atheism.

However, as anyone who spends time on twitter will know, the phenomenon of the RT – retweet – is pretty powerful.

I have no interest in entering into a debate or argument on the subject of whether prayer works or not, but wanted to share an experience with you.

I ought to perhaps point out at this juncture that I’m not a religious person, but I do believe there is much more to this life than what we experience physically.

I’ll also repeat what I’ve said in a previous blog ~ although stating the obvious ~ that there is no known cure for death.

That way lies all our fate.

So, when people use death as evidence that prayer doesn’t work, it’s over-simplifying things.

As a qualified healer, I have absolutely no influence over anyone else’s mortality.

It’s one of the first things I always tell my clients.

Because complementary therapies are frequently sought out as a last resort.
A final attempt at hanging onto life when all else has failed.

So, why and how do I believe prayer and/or the energy of thought works?

Allow me to tell you a story …

A seventy seven year old man was given less than twenty four hours to live by doctors in an Australian Intensive Care unit.
The man had contracted septicaemia as a complication of cancer.
His niece was told the news thousands of miles away in the UK.
She had no way on earth of getting to her much loved Uncle to see him before he died.
She knew that his own sons and daughters – her cousins – were wracked with worry and grief.
So, she rang the hospital and asked to speak to the Chaplain.
The man’s niece asked the Chaplain if he would do something very specific.
She asked him to visit her Uncle, touch him on the shoulder, hand or arm and tell him that his niece was thinking of him.
The Chaplain agreed without hesitation.
The next phone call the man’s niece received was from her Aunt.
She held her breath, bracing herself for the worse possible news.
Instead she was told he was out of Intensive Care and expected to recover well enough to return home.
Eventually, the man phoned his niece himself and the contents of that conversation were a joy.
Because, as I’m sure you realise, the man is my Uncle.
He celebrates his 80th birthday very soon.

The reason I’m telling you about this is because on that day, far from being ‘passive’ I took out photographs, lit candles, sat with crystals, visualised my beloved Uncle smiling and sat beside him the entire day – in all but body.

As a Reiki practitioner, I also “delivered” what’s known as absent healing.

When I spoke to him afterwards, he said it was exactly as though I had been to visit him in hospital.

“I knew you were with me” he said.

We will never know if he’d have made the same recovery without that healing touch.

Personally, I don’t need to know.

What I DO know is that there’s nothing passive or ineffectual about sending love from one person’s heart and soul to another.

Which is a form of prayer.

There’s a line in a song ““No one laughs at God in a hospital”

For me, it translates as “No one laughs at love in a hospital”

I know. I’ve been in there many times.

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Thanks for listening.

Lx

A post-script The book ‘Messages from Water’ offers further reading on how thoughts manifest themselves.

Happiness

I lifted the picture below from an earlier tumblr of mine.

I wrote this “tweegram” when someone very close to me, who I love dearly was in real pain.

They are suffering again.

These words – and feelings – remain true.

I’m not entirely sure my own deepest feelings are always apparent, and that is a conscious choice.

I keep some things stowed away securely under lock and key.

I always have.

Perhaps I always will.

In my experience, it’s what many of us do.

I think it means we’re human.

Thanks for listening.

Lx

Within These Walls

A recent WordPress prompt was this:

Wall to Wall
What do you display on the walls of your home — photos, posters, artwork, nothing? How do you choose what to display? What mood are you trying to create?

It made me look around my home more closely than I usually do.

The first thing you see on entering is a favourite wedding photograph.

Then there are more pictures, mirrors and framed quotes ~ even a couple of football shirts ~ dotted on every wall in each of the rooms.

My craft room is a place of mixed results and one card pinned to the wall reads “Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep”

In my healing room, hang certificates of the qualifications I’m most proud about – my complementary therapy studies.

There’s also a beautiful print called ‘Night with her train of stars’

Our kitchen is adorned with LOTS of photographs of our own cats and a favourite watercolour painting of cats in someone else’s kitchen – perhaps imaginary …

Oh, and even though I’m now teetotal, this – a favourite quote about wine!

Everything here holds memory and has meaning attached.

We’ve lived here for more than twenty years, and this home really is my sanctuary.

Some people say a house is merely bricks and mortar.

I’m sure that’s true for them, but not for me.

As for the mood we’re trying to create, well, I can’t really say there is one as such.

If I had to tell you the word that’s most been used to describe my home it’s “welcoming” … No one has ever complimented me on my tidiness, but that’s no matter!

This house is filled with love and I honestly never want to be uprooted from within these walls.

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Thanks for listening.

Lx

Letting Go

Earlier today I enjoyed a hot stone massage accompanied by Reiki energy.

It’s been a while since I had this particular combination of therapies and I’d almost forgotten how soothing they can be.

They’re not for everyone, I do know that.

A friend celebrated a milestone birthday recently.
When her family asked what she’d like as a gift, she told them “I don’t mind so long as it’s not a massage or beauty treatment”

At the risk of stating the blatantly obvious, we’re all different.

I consider myself pretty good at relaxing and temporarily allowing my cares to wash over me.

Not all of the time. Not every day.
But I can – and do – switch off the TV, phone & computer in order to immerse myself in a deeply meditative state.

It’s noticeably different though, allowing someone else to take responsibility for your personal means of relaxation.

Something, as a qualified therapist, I’m well practiced in doing for others.

I’m acutely aware of the proverb “Physician, heal thyself”

I do what I can, but as they say ‘miracles take a little longer’ …

So, I walked into a room where the temperature was set to sub-tropical.

Not too hot.
Certainly not cold.
Goldilocks would have felt right at home.

The lighting was dimmed.

Sounds of the sea played softly from a discreetly placed iPod.

I was asked to strip to my briefs. A basket was provided for my clothes.

The minute I climbed onto the treatment bed and covered myself with the softest of towels, my entire body began to feel at ease.

The starting point of this massage was my head and face.

The essential oil aromas were, once again, Goldilocks standard.
Not too strong. Not too light. Just right.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, I was in a state of bliss.

My body was soothed and my mind free from care.

My heart was calm and my soul cleansed.

Typically after such treatments, I return home in silence and remain so for the rest of the day.

But this time, when I got back into the car, I asked my husband to play the Foo Fighters.
Loud!

I was on a natural high.

Tired, yes.
But energised at the same time.

I feel altogether stronger.

After a couple of hours where the pain I constantly endure was shifted well and truly into the background, it’s now – as is usual – pounding away again.

And yet, right now I feel greater than the pain.

I feel far less fearful.

Much more cheerful.

Less overwhelmed.

More in control.

I’ve no idea how long it will last.

In a way, that’s not important.

I will sleep well tonight, that I do know.

Because just for today, I employed a meaningful way of just letting go.

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Thanks for listening.

Lx

A post-script. Since this treatment, I’ve wept many much needed tears … x

Why I’m a Big Twit

One of this week’s writing prompts was “Why do you blog?”

In terms of WordPress, the replies are still evolving.

Along with this particular blog I also write about food.

I’m passionate about both – each for very different reasons.

But I wanted to share a bit about why I tweet.

I had a few “false starts” with twitter.

Perhaps more of that at a later date, but since rejoining have found myself enjoying it enormously.

I’ve also noticed that whilst I still have “down days” where I feel the black fog of depression descending, I’ve suffered less during this time.

It could of course be coincidence.

I still practice Reiki and meditation and care for my body as much as is possible under the present circumstances.

I’m inclined to think though that twitter plays no small part in managing my mood.

I have made some great e-friendships on the site and there are people who can make me smile on even the darkest of days.

I also love the humour and satire that twitter bestows.

Not all of it is to my personal taste, but I’ve learned to quickly scroll past anything offensive or quietly unfollow those whose tweets repeatedly “jar” my system.

I’ve always loved to write and tell my own jokes.

Prior to joining twitter, most went undocumented but I have long been known as a “joker in the pack” among friends and family.

I did used to write a weekly satirical ‘magazine’ for the Northern Division of one major company I worked for.
But that was a very long time ago!

I’ve written seriously for Mind, Body, Spirit publications and produced a newsletter for clients when I had my own practice.

But I find myself focussing more and more on the “funny side of life” in 140 character bite sized pieces.

Twitter has encouraged me to try out puns, poems and picture captions, which along with distracting me from worrying health issues in particular, has also been an excellent form of exercise for my irrevocably damaged brain.

There are of course aspects of twitter I don’t enjoy.
I’m sure that goes without saying.

I think though (hope) I’ve learned to log off more readily when I feel unhappy about the content of my timeline.

I’ve had a couple of really unpleasant experiences, but nothing is wasted in terms of learning about how to navigate the network.

Nowadays I refuse to get into the boxing ring with anyone spoiling for a fight – or “sport” as I noticed one high profile tweeter referred to publicly falling out with ‘lesser mortals’

Yes, most people do bring their egos, foibles and prejudices with them to the virtual network.

I’m no paragon of virtue myself.

I try not to offend others, although sometimes it’s completely unavoidable.

I don’t always feel able to engage in conversation, which means at times I’m simply churning out awful jokes.

I occasionally blow a fuse about pictures that (in my opinion) constitute companion animal abuse.

I do however pride myself on the fact that I don’t discuss one tweeter with another.

I don’t gossip in the “real world” so why would I do it online?

I’m also far more cautious these days about my privacy and protecting my personal identity.

At one time I happily posted pictures of my face, but a strangely unnerving episode which required police intervention has put paid to that.

Of course, there are people who maintain a high profile through twitter and those who use it to boost their success.

Horses for courses – as I understand Tesco have re-branded their Lasagne.

Anyway, at the risk of repeating myself, I simply want to say for me personally twitter is much like the little girl who had a little curl in the middle of her forehead

When she’s good she’s very very good and when she’s bad she’s horrid!

But I wouldn’t be without her.

Thanks for listening.

Lx

A post script.
My thoughts on twitter are ever shifting. Much like the stream of information that runs through it.
These are simply my latest ~ I expect they will change …

Don’t Tell Me …

This is an uncharacteristically negative post by me ~ I think.

What I mean by that is I don’t believe I’m generally downbeat.

Perhaps you think I am?

Absolutely everything is about perception.

I’ve had an enormous amount of loss in my life.

I lost my twin.

A family unit – when my parents divorced.

My ability to have children – when I first had cancer(s)

A promising business – see above.

Internal organs – see also above.

My independence, due to a brain injury.

Pets I’ve adored.

The ability to travel by air, or any distance overland – see brain injury.

So, what I don’t want to be told is what I HAVEN’T lost.

Surprise, surprise, I do know I’m still here.

I’ve survived.

For now.

Quite how long is subject to much medical speculation.

I’m now facing the loss of my mother-in-law.
Which also means my husband’s loss of his beloved mother.

My own mother – who I adore – is rapidly losing her sight.

Loss.

It’s a strange phenomenon.

When you lose something you generally seek to replace it.

But some things can never be replaced.

Please don’t tell me life is short and I should grab it by the scruff of the neck.

I darn well know it is.

Don’t tell me there are children starving in Africa.

I’ve been there.
I’ve seen them.
I’ve helped them.
I won’t be able to go back.

I know all about that.

But, most of all, please don’t tell me I’m “lucky“

“Oh, your mum’s losing her sight, but she still looks well. And she’s a good age …”

Please, please, please don’t tell me that.

I know all about these things you’re pointing out to me.

I know exactly what I still have.

But I’m afraid to say the things I have don’t compensate for what I’ve lost.

Or those I’m yet to lose.

I know you mean well, but please don’t try and tell me how to feel.

Thanks for listening.

Lx