Farewell to Freya

Her name was Freya, and she left on Friday, Freya's day, to go on to a new life on another plane.

She was diagnosed in May with mammary cancer. In recent weeks her lump softened and shrank, so that the vet thought perhaps it was benign after all. But a few days ago it was suddenly back, and it was large and hard.

She had shown little sign of being ill apart from the tumour, and she was still agile, affectionate, communicative — the most communicative of cats, this one — and had a good appetite. You'd never, at any time, have taken her for the 16 years old which she was. But this week it began to be apparent that she was not entirely comfortable any more, not entirely happy. She slept most of the time, didn't go outside much, and when she did she came back in soon. Her breathing was sometimes audible.

Her ritual was always to wait until I went to bed at night, then arrive on the bed — knowing the exact moment even if she had been outside — and snuggle up for a cuddle, purring. Eventually she would move away and I'd turn over, and we'd go to sleep. The last few days she still did that, but was quicker to move away, and the purr was not so loud. Again, it seemed as if it was hard for her to be comfortable, even under my Reiki hands.

She could have lasted longer, but I didn't want to wait until she was even more uncomfortable. There were just a few days of decline — but I've seen decline before; I know how fast it can be. I knew on Thursday that her time had come, and phoned the vet, but couldn't get in until Friday. By the time of her appointment, I had confirmed my inner knowing via Reiki and Tarot. And when the vet examined her, she confirmed it too. The cancer had spread to Freya's lungs. 

I stayed with her. It was a remarkably quick and peaceful death. I was strong while I had to be, but afterwards collapsed in tears. The vet's nurse gave me a can of Malibu and Cola. I'd never had it before. I bought more on the way home, and tim tams and cashew nuts. Comfort foods. 

My household has shrunk to a very small family now. Just me and my black panther, Freya's brother Levi. As siblings, they loved each other but also had spats. They played together and rested together, and there was sometimes jealousy. Now it's just him and me. He has all my attention at last; but he is already missing his sister. 

'The first two years are the worst,' I was told about widowhood. They were not fun, that's for sure! Freya was my in-house support during that time. There were many supportive friends, but sooner or later I had to come inside and shut the door. Then she was there to help. She grieved for Andrew too, but she also made sure to give me what comfort she could. She was very good at it! (Poor old Levi, always a sensitive soul, was extremely attached to Andrew, and went through terrible grief for many months. I had to look after him, not the other way around.) Now the two year milestone has been reached. The 3rd of September was the second anniversary of Andrew's death. Freya went two days later, on the 5th, her work done.

Freya was my familiar. If I was doing energy work, she would quietly come and add her energy. Sometimes she knew about it ahead of time, and would be waiting ready.  Levi is more my guardian. Although sensitive and clingy, he can be fierce in the face of any threat.

He is clingy now, following me about like the dog I believe him to have been in his last life. And he is subdued; he looks lost. It's a bleak little household we have now, the two of us. Andrew took a lot of warmth and colour when he left. Freya, with her purposeful personality, has taken more.

Levi is a cat who hates change. I'll have to keep everything as close as possible to what he's used to while he adjusts. I'm going to start putting Rescue Remedy in his food for a while; should have thought of it more promptly. Spats they may have had, but she has been his companion all his life. Their telepathic bond was strong. Each would come and tell me if the other needed something.

Perhaps he knew this time was coming soon. He used to sleep elsewhere at night, and come onto the bed first thing in the morning for his cuddle. Just lately he's been spending his nights on the bed with Freya and me. It has become his place too. I'm glad he will keep me company now.

My little girl looked so beautiful when she went to sleep for the last time. As the vet took her away afterwards, the last thing I saw was the white ring around the tip of her tail. She was a faery cat, all tortoiseshell but for that white ring which marked her, I thought, as faery. All her life, right up to and including the last week, she would sometimes race around the house, executing occasional leaps, as if playing chasey with something invisible. I thought she was having fun with her faery friends.

The vet gave me a package with things that might help — a sweet poem, a bit of her fur, a paw print in gold paint, and two small candles. I chose the purple candle to light for her, to accompany the (Pagan) Prayer for the Dead which I say when someone I care about crosses over.  She too is a soul, a beloved soul. I did what I could to help her journey.

I know she is better off where she is than if she had stayed here any longer. I know that Friday was the day she had to go; that it would have been wrong to keep her even a day or two more. 

I told Andrew, on the way to the vet, 'You better be there to meet her!' and I'm sure he would be. 

But I'm doing a lot of crying now.

As Others See Me

1) Physical

On holiday recently I reunioned with people I hadn't seen for a long time. When some of them asked solicitously, 'How are you coping?' I naturally assumed they were referring to my journey through widowhood. At least, that seemed natural to me; it's the biggest thing I've had to cope with in the last year and a bit.

Gradually it became clear that instead they were concerned whether I could walk for 10 minutes without becoming fatigued, if I might lose my footing on uneven ground, or my poor old legs might give out from under me without warning. I had mentioned 'a touch of arthritis' and some recent shortness of breath coming up hills, so I guess it was my fault. I had not thought to mention my daily walks and fitness exercises, the regular chiropractic treatments to keep the (very slight) arthritis at bay, and the friends who envy my ease of movement. In one case I gave in and let the concerned person give me her arm at every opportunity, for her peace of mind; she obviously felt such a sense of responsibility for looking after me. 

And it was good of her, of course, to want to look after me, which she did beautifully in all sorts of ways while I was with her. But I'm not used to walking in tandem, clutching someone's arm, and found it awkward. No doubt that reinforced her belief that I needed support!

It was a relief to come home, ask a friend who sees me often, 'Do I look frail and decrepit?' and have her roar with laughter and say, 'Not to me! That's the last thing I'd think about you.' Then she asked, of the people who'd acted that way, 'Were they younger than you?' and I realised they were, by 10 to 20 years. With that, their not having seen me in years, and my ill-advised remarks about my health, I guess I can understand their concerns. It was disconcerting all the same.

As for the shortness of breath, I've now had tests my doctor ordered just in case, and I'm perfectly fine. I may have been a bit too ambitious when resuming exercise after a bit of a lapse. More likely it was emotional; it's mentioned as one of the symptoms that can follow a bereavement. It was good timing for me to have a holiday!

2) Occupational

Even people I regard as close friends, and whom I see quite often, are inclined to ask, 'Are you still writing poetry?'

Though I should be used to it, the question always startles me. How could they think otherwise? Writing poetry is what I do. I've been doing it since I was a little kid. If I don't actually write every day — though for the most part I do — I'm at least thinking about it: working in my head on a particular poem, deciding which ones belong together in a chapbook, reading other people's poetry, offering other poets feedback when requested, revising old poems....

It's an invisible occupation, I suppose. If someone doesn't live in my house or read my blogs, how would they know? I don't do performance any more, unless it's really easy for me to get to venues, and I haven't yet published any of the chapbooks I've been toying with lately. Haven't had a book out since 2005. I do get into various magazines and anthologies, and occasionally get mentioned in awards; however there is little awareness of these among the general public. Most people would be quite oblivious of them.

But I think it's more than that. I think people see it as some kind of hobby rather than an all-consuming vocation. I told one very dear friend about getting together with a couple of other poets at the end of December and mapping out our writing projects for the whole of the coming year, both individual and collaborative — after which she asked me if I had any special plans for this year!

It's comforting to recall a recent visit from my Firstborn (who lives in a different State). On his first night here, when he announced it was his bedtime, I said, 'I'll probably stay up quite late and do some writing.'

'Try to keep the surprises to a minimum,' he said, straight-faced. I stared at him blankly. 

'Mum,' he explained, 'As long as I've known you, you've always done that.'

He's known me 48 years.

Been and gone and done it

— and then I undid it again.

I brought across my writer's journal and my 'Cronewyze' blog. The merges were easy enough, although the comments didn't come as promised.

Then I had to put labels on the posts to indicate overall content, and adjust some other tags which had become vague, being out of context. It all started to look kinda messy.

And although I decided that my visuals in other places didn't really matter much, the specific links and things did. Bringing them all over here would have resulted in far too much clutter!

Instead I am seeking to integrate my other blogs via links at the top of the left side bar. And, under the tabs at the top of this blog, you'll now find more details of my witchy and healing backgrounds.

THE FLOWER HEALER: my review from Goodreads

The Flower Healer: Flower-essence Medicine for Healing by Barbara Olive

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars

A beautifully produced book, this is lovely to both the eye and the touch. It explains what flower essences are and how to use them, in accessible language, drawing on the author's own experiences to illustrate the points she makes. This section is simply a lovely read, as well as informative!

Then there's a detailed, illustrated account of the flower essences stocked by Essence World, her shop and clinic in Eton, England – a comprehensive range of essence systems, lesser known than such systems as Bach and Australian Bush Flowers, and very much deserving to be widely known. (I have personal experience of some of them.) It includes a list of physical symptoms, possible emotional causes, and the appropriate essences to use. There are even lists of essences for cats and dogs, and a special section on working with children.

With a reading list, an excellent index, and a directory of the essence manufacturers whose ranges are included, 'comprehensive' is the word for the whole book - that, and 'beautiful'.

Medical Drama

No sooner did I declare I was in a healer phase than I was presented with a friend’s medical drama. Our old mate James came to stay with us, and the night he arrived he had a heart attack and I ended up driving him to hospital around 3 a.m. He was transferred to another hospital and had an angioplasty, i.e. a stent was inserted into an artery that had totally closed. He’s back with us again now and has made a remarkable recovery.

Luckily he was pretty healthy in general; that helped. Also I did a lot of Reiki when it happened, and since. My nurse neighbour tells me there is ‘a very small window’ and is sure the Reiki must have been instrumental in saving his life – because it took a while to realise what was happening. He thought a rib was out and tried a chiropractic session before he got to our place, and a painkiller and a hot bath once here. I twigged what was going on when I gave him some Reiki and Theta Healing, during which he felt considerable relief, only to have the pain return as soon as I stopped.

I told Andrew to stay in bed, no sense him coming too – besides, I knew I’d need him to drive me to my teaching job next morning, because I’d be in no condition to do it myself after such a late night. Luckily he had business in the same town that day. But of course, when I finally got home from leaving James in hospital, Andrew was up waiting with cocoa, and had been giving James ‘distant’ Reiki.

James had already been gradually reducing his cigarette smoking. On his return here after the hospital stay, Andrew successfully cleared the addiction by using Thought Field Therapy. TFT has a very powerful process for clearing addictions. It took only a few minutes.

I really must try it on my chocoholism soon!

Poetry Screeches to a Halt

Mine, that is.

A year ago, someone told me about '30 Poems in 30 Days' happening throughout September at PoeWar.com (Writer's Resource Center). I participated joyfully. I'm still grateful to John Hewitt, who started it all, for the poems I produced and the friends I made. That was the beginning of a most prolific year of writing, often in response to other online prompts I found – notably another Poem A Day challenge during the month of April, this time instigated by Robert Lee Brewer of Poetic Asides. My Haiku on Friday profile became popular, and I was recently asked to create something similar on LiveJournal: Friday Haiku, which I then handed over to someone else to host. One of my favourite games is x365, in which bloggers write about people who've made an impact on them, one a day for a year, in the same number of words as their age – so I, for instance am writing 68-word portraits. My one regret about all this poetic activity was that I had trouble keeping up with my favourite poets on MySpace, many of whom are prolific themselves.

Finally the wheel turned and we were back to September. John started another 30 Poems in 30 Days, which I began enthusiastically. The prompts were just as good, some people I met last time turned up again, interesting new people joined …. but by Day 6 I had run out of puff. On that day, in fact, I posted a poem that was a few months old instead of writing a new one, then made my farewells from the project. And I haven't written a poem since. Even my 68x365 blog has been languishing, though I do intend to resume and will have to do some catching up. The only things I've still been able to write are the haiku. (And some people say haiku aren't poems anyhow, but a genre of their own.)

I thought I must be experiencing burn-out. I don't say I'm not, but I realise there's another factor. I've observed that, for friends of mine who have more than one vocation, things tend to go in phases. I know people who are both artists and writers. They'll paint madly for three or four months, then suddenly that will stop and they'll find themselves scribbling furiously for the next six. My own dual vocations are quite different: poet and therapist. During this year of being consumed by poetry, the therapist has taken a back seat. But not any more.

At the weekend Andrew and I did a course in Thought Field Therapy. We've been acquainted with this modality for some years now. Our teacher, Carol, was one of the first people in Australia to learn it. Soon after she became a practitioner, she told us about this exciting thing she'd done, we tried it out and then couldn't stop recommending it to people. That was maybe eight years ago, and at some point she went to America and trained as a teacher. At first we didn't think of learning it ourselves. We already had a number of excellent modalities, and when TFT was indicated, for ourselves or others, we had Carol and other friends whom she trained.

Now we've all moved a little further away from Murwillumbah, in different directions, and one practitioner has more-or-less retired. Suddenly the training called to us, and so we did it – and loved it. I had fully expected to love Theta Healing, which we also learned quite recently, and indeed I do love it. I had not expected to fall in love with TFT in the same way, but to my delighted surprise I did. By the end of the weekend I realised: oh, that's why the poetry dried up – I'm in a healer phase now.

I don't expect the poetry will stop altogether, just as I didn't entirely stop giving people treatments during the writing phase; but the focus is different for the next while, however long that may turn out to be. I'm so excited, I can hardly wait to get into it! I'm getting new business cards printed; I'm creating brochures, and new signs for the market stall.

And aha! Now I can indulge in the pleasure of poetry by reading rather than writing it. All those lovely blogs to devour – whoopee!

Thinkin' Trim Taut Terrific: 2

This Saturday we had our second film shoot, three weeks after the first, and began working with Letitia's techniques. Just as well I signed a contract not to reveal details before the film is released, otherwise I'd be tempted. I already think it's such a wonderful program that I'd love to share it with the world! But of course that is exactly what the film will do, in such a way that people who view it can benefit too, much more than they would from any snippets I might describe along the way. And in fact I don't yet know what the whole program will be; the cast gets it one step at a time. Let's just say I'm finding it very exciting!

Already we are starting to get to know each other at deeper levels, so the bonding created on the first shoot proves very necessary. We need to be able to trust each other; luckily Letitia has chosen her people well so that's not a problem. We are Letitia herself, a success coach in her thirties; me: a poet / author / teacher / healer / psychic in my sixties; a mechanic in his forties; a teacher in her twenties; an 18-year-old autistic boy attending a special school; and a 16-year-old girl who is a High School student and wants to become a photographer. Although we're such different people, leading such different lives, we are all committed to our goals and willing to be open with each other about our experiences and processes.

Most importantly, we all trust Letitia, which is obviously vital. Not only do we know she's been there and done that, but some of us already knew her quite well as a person in our lives.

As for the camera people and other assistants, they blend in well. We've been told to forget they're there during the actual filming, and it's surprisingly easy to do so despite lights, boom, and cameras on tripods. Perhaps that's because what we're up to ourselves is so absorbing.

Letitia Lee

Thinkin' Trim Taut Terrific

I'm in a movie! We began filming yesterday. In the process, over the next 12 months I'm going to become slim, fit and gorgeous!

Thinkin' Trim Taut Terrific is the business name and website of my dear friend Letitia Lee, who is making this film with the encouragement of the film production company Screenworks. She is in their mentoring program.

Letitia describes her film not as a documentary but "a reality film from the heart". She herself is the star. She has employed her own methods so successfully in the past that she wanted to share them with the world, and regained weight on purpose so as to be able to demonstrate how to lose it. I've known her long enough to have seen her both ways.

A small, select group of us are the supporting cast. When I heard she was making this film and advertising for cast members, I begged to be in it because I know this girl can get things done. Heck, she was one of the prime movers in the fund-raising drive that got me to Texas in 2006 to feature in poetry festivals there. In the last couple of years I have put on – well, let's just say more weight than I'm happy with. I'd like to avoid diseases associated with obesity, recover the energy I have had in the past, and yes, look good too.

This is one of my baby photos and some of me as a youngster. You can see that slenderness was always going to be something of a challenge. It doesn't appear to have been part of the design!


There have been times in my life that I was slim – sometimes bordering on anorexic, I realise with hindsight (a condition that hadn't been identified back then). They've always been interspersed with periods of overweight. And yes, I know all the ways to lose weight, and am a (temporarily) successful graduate of both Weight Watchers and Jenny Craig.

What makes me think Letitia's program will be any different? It's holistic – and I'm not allowed to say much more about that. We all signed a contract yesterday not to divulge the details of the program; though you can find out some things from the website. One of the most appealing things about it, which I can tell you, is that we aren't going to be existing on lettuce leaves. On the contrary. We're all overweight because we love food, and we're told that on this program we'll be eating well. In fact Letitia promised us, "This film will be food porn!"

Yesterday we filmed the opening sequences, where each of us appears in our natural habitat so to speak. I was shown on stage as a performance poet, wearing my purple Goddess gown which has been the costume for many performances. (I do have other clothes, but it always goes down so well.)


The cameraman wasn't prepared for the oomph I put into my performances. When I burst on stage and launched into my opening line, he said, "Hang on, I wasn't prepared for that!" and made some quick adjustments to his equipment. (I don't know ... sound? focus? I didn't ask. I was too busy feeling gleeful at having surprised him. Somehow, without meaning to, I always manage to project "ladylike"; people get a shock to discover my true outrageousness, and I love it when they do.)

The cast and crew are a great bunch of people; we all bonded quickly. I suspect some of that was due to Letitia's experience as a facilitator and team builder. She's very good at putting everyone at ease, at the same time as keeping them on track. It looks like being an interesting twelve months!

Theta Healing - my new qualification

I'm now a Theta Healer. Andrew did a refresher this weekend and I did it for the first time. I'd not wanted to previously, despite seeing that it's an excellent modality, but when this course was offered I was suddenly enthusiastic. A matter of timing, obviously. Now I know it was probably because of the connection with the 14 other people there - perhaps a soul group, all powerful healers in other fields already.

Two of the women had had psychic readings from me at local markets in the past. One of them still had a gratitude rock which Andrew gave her in December 2006! (As in the DVD "The Secret" only ours are full of Reiki as well. He gives them away to passers-by at the markets we do.) This lass remembered my reading very well. She said that it changed her life and she always knew we'd meet again. She's probably going to enrol in WordsFlow, my writers' group, next.

It was an amazing weekend. Our teacher was someone I've known 15 years. In fact I set her on her healing path with Reiki I all that time ago – and how glad I am that I did, now it's all come full circle. At that time the local Hare Krishnas had been praying for a resident Reiki Master in our area, and I turned up, so for the first couple of years after we moved here 90% of my students were devotees. This particular lady is a beautiful singer, famous among the devotees. She played the harmonium at the beginning and ending of Sunday's session and we did some chanting, a joyous experience; and we all received one of her CDs as a graduation gift. A few years ago she became the first person in this area to learn Thought Field Therapy, then went to America to train as a teacher with the guy who founded it. That's an astonishing modality, devised by a psychiatrist, which can handle in an hour things that might otherwise take years of therapy. Then she discovered Theta Healing and also went to America to learn that from its founder, Vianna Stibal.

Being a very spiritually aware person, highly intuitive yet grounded and practical too, she knows how to make powerful healing modalities even stronger, and quicker to take effect. On the first day I cleared some deep-seated programming from an ancient past life. The second day I learned ways to enhance my psychic skills, and received a profound reading from another student as part of our practice exercises.

There was another professional psychic in the course too. That was exciting for both of us. She had done the work before and was having a refresher. She said she knew she had to come to give someone a message. As soon as she said that, I got that it was me, so at lunch on Day One I asked her. She came back to me at afternoon tea and said she'd been told to tell me that this is my time to shine; I am about to realise all manner of dreams, some of them quite old. I have been getting this message from other sources too in the past few days – from Tarot, astrology, and a psychic friend who volunteered it.

As we drove to the first day of the course on Saturday, running through my brain was the song, "Helpless". That made sense when the past life that a fellow student helped me clear turned out to be one in which I was a slave, in a society that believed hierarchy was the natural and right order of things. In great contrast, I drove home with "Bridge Over Troubled Water" going through my head: "Shine on silver girl, your time has come to shine. All your dreams are on their way...."

Andrew also had a wonderful time in this course – unlike last time he attempted it, a year ago, and had to stop halfway through when he had a heart attack! He wound up in hospital that time. It was a good thing really. It was a very mild heart attack, he got help he needed and hasn't looked back.

The other students remarked today how unusual it is for someone of his generation to be so open to learning new things. He will be 80 next birthday (February). The teacher did a future reading for him and said she saw his children's book, "Jorell" as a play. And guess what – one of the other students writes and produces children's plays professionally. Yes, we have now sent her a copy of the book.

What if you can’t feel?

Reposted from my DragonStar Rose mentoring site on MySpace:

'I'm just numb,' wailed my friend. 'Ten years, and now the relationship's ended! And I can't cry, no matter how hard I try, even though I know there are lots of tears there.' She thought maybe she was subconsciously afraid to let go in case she never stopped!

'Try looking for other things to cry about,' I suggested. 'If there are tears waiting to be shed, it doesn't matter what you attach them to, it only matters that they get released. That way, you can do it bit by bit and you won't get overwhelmed.'

I know that one. I haven't yet shed tears over the recent confirmation that my youngest and I are poles apart and – the way it looks now – may never be able to maintain any kind of relationship. I too am fairly numb, still, on that aspect of recent events, though I am feeling other things. Joyous relief at the fact that I so nearly lost my marriage to Andrew, and didn't. Heightened appreciation of my life and all the good things in it. And quite a deal of anger towards the said youngest, mixed with pity for him (which he would repudiate furiously) because I think he has focused on his mind at the expense of his heart. I do know there is grief there, but, like my friend quoted above, I simply can't find the tears.

Except ... I have been finding in my own life the confirmation of my advice to my friend. Not that I went looking for occasions to weep, but life is life and they do come.

My husband unwittingly joined a gambling site online, thinking it was a straight auction, and was inveigled out of $25 more than he meant to spend, but had so much trouble working the system that he never got to use the bids he had bought anyway. It's OK, I sorted it and we'll get a refund, but I cried and screamed out of all proportion to what had happened. I do have a horror of gambling, due to a brief early marriage to a compulsive gambler, and a long second marriage to a man who gambled in business instead and eventually sent us bankrupt after a number of near-thing dramas. Even so, that was long ago now, I have done a lot of working through it since, and this was a mere $25 which we are going to get back.

Then last night I suffered sudden excruciating ear pain and temporary deafness - which at the time I didn't know was temporary - and again cried out of all proportion, even for such pain and fear. (Turned out to be a middle ear infection, and I'm already heaps better after getting treatment.)

I said to Andrew, 'I think my grief about S is leaking through. I haven't been able to express it directly yet.'

It's not that these situations weren't distressing. That's the point, I think. There has to be a genuine cause for tears, so that they will happen – then, if they go on a lot longer and seem even more anguished than the presenting situation warrants, they're probably doing double duty. And a good thing too! We don't want our emotions festering away inside us, where if they stay long enough they can make us physically ill.

Case in point – my middle ear infection is associated with a cold I've been fighting off for a couple of weeks. Metaphysically, a cold can be giving yourself permission to take time out, but I haven't done that for many years as these days I give myself conscious permission. So that leaves the other option – suppressed grief. Well, well, well! (And the right ear? What is it, I wonder, that I am trying not to hear consciously? Could be various things, and I do have ways to find out in the very near future.)

It is the same with anger. If you think you've got some of that festering away and that it'd be better out than in, but you have trouble releasing it, look for other causes of anger. You won't have to look far; there are plenty in the big wide world, if not in your immediate space. The Government is usually doing SOMETHING that annoys you at least some of the time. And we still have wars, poverty, disasters and incompetence on a grand scale. You'll find something!

Sometimes it helps to just start going through the motions of releasing. The release may well build! I am thinking of a time when a long friendship ended nastily. I regarded it as a betrayal of trust and even outright cruelty by the other person. (Still do, actually.) I was also in some shock about that. As soon as I extricated myself from the situation and found some breathing space, I took the advice I dish out to others – I bashed a pillow. This hurts neither oneself nor the other person.

It amazed me what happened. At first it felt a bit contrived, but not for long. The momentum built rapidly. I not only punched the pillow, I ended up kicking it and bashing it repeatedly against the wall. I not only sobbed but snarled and yelled. We're talking absolute, ferocious rage. It went on for ages.

Well – better all THAT out than in! Better than contracting any of the major illnesses in which suppressed rage is a factor.

I still have the same opinions about that person, but have long felt calm indifference to the whole matter.

Who is the healer?

'You are arrogant,' said A Certain Person, 'If you mean to say you can channel universal energy to heal people.'

That's a sad misunderstanding of what Reiki and Theta Healing are all about! (I am not trained in Theta Healing, but Andrew has learned it and uses it a lot, with good effect; we both do Reiki.)

One of the first things we learn in Reiki is that we are not the doers; we just act as a pipeline for the energy – hence I was taught to call myself a Reiki channel rather than a Reiki healer. The term Reiki healer is widely used nowadays, perhaps because 'healer' is more readily understood than 'channel', but I think most of us remain very well aware that we are merely instruments.

In Theta Healing, as I understand it, is actually God doing the healing, through the agency of the healer. People using that modality cannot lose sight of this fact, as the method includes prayer.

And do we have to be very special, gifted people to be able to do this? Not at all! Anyone can learn these modalities. Reiki in particular is very easy.

I remember a minister of religion once saying to me, about both healing and psychic readings, 'Some of our people also do laying on of hands and prophesying, but they always give the credit where it belongs.'

Well, guess what, so do we! I don't know a Reiki Master or a professional psychic who isn't perfectly clear where the power comes from. I don't know any who aren't deeply thankful.

Being Well

My son Steve sent me this text in an email. I think it is great wisdom!

(It is reproduced in several places on the net, including other blogs, so it seems to be freely available.)


The Art of Being Well by Dr. Dráuzio Varella

...Speak your feelings.

Emotions and feelings that are hidden, repressed, end in illnesses as: gastritis, ulcer, lumbar pains, spinal. With time, the repression of the feelings degenerates to the cancer. Then, we go to a confidante, to share our intimacy, ours "secret", our errors! The dialogue, the speech, the word, is a powerful remedy and an excellent therapy!


...Make Decisions.

The undecided person remains in doubt, in anxiety, in anguish. Indecision accumulates problems, worries and aggressions. Human history is made of decisions. To decide is precisely to know to renounce, to know to lose advantages and values to win others. The undecided people are victims of gastric ailments, nervous pains and problems of the skin.


...Find Solutions.

Negative people do not find solutions and they enlarge problems. They prefer lamentation, gossip, pessimism. It is better to light a match that to regret the darkness. A bee is small, but produces one of the sweetest things that exist. We are what we think. The negative thought generates negative energy that is transformed into illness.


...Don't Live By Appearances.

Who hides reality, pretends , poses and always wants to give the impression of being well. He wants to be seen as perfect, easy-going, etc. but is accumulating tons of weight. A bronze statue with feet of clay. There is nothing worse for the health than to live on appearances and facades. These are people with a lot of varnish and little root. Their destiny is the pharmacy, the hospital and pain.


...Accept.

The refusal of acceptance and the absence of self-esteem, make us alienate ourselves. Being at one with ourselves is the core of a healthy life. They who do not accept this, become envious, jealous, imitators, ultra-competitive, destructive. Be accepted, accept that you are accepted, accept the criticisms. It is wisdom, good sense and therapy.


...Trust.

Who does not trust, does not communicate, is not opened, is not related, does not create deep and stable relations, does not know to do true friendships. Without confidence, there is not relationship. Distrust is a lack of faith in you and in faith itself.


...Do Not Live Life Sad.

Good humor. Laughter. Rest. Happiness. These replenish health and bring long life. The happy person has the gift to improve the environment wherever they live. "Good humor saves us from the hands of the doctor". Happiness is health and therapy.