When my daughter was 10, she had a gerbil. It’s been so long I cannot remember his name.
She and her father went on vacation; it was then, of course, that I noticed he was not well. He struggled to walk – he wasn’t chewing up the toilet paper roll. I knew he was dying, but why now? When my child was not there? What was I going to do?!
I’d take him out and hold him in my hand while I sat with him. I’d sit such that he was positioned at my heart. I willed him to die – to end his suffering.
What I noticed was that every time I did that, he’d get more energy, and I thought a miracle had occurred.
No. He was just taking in the love from my heart center and using it as fuel for just a bit.
This went on for a few days. I didn’t want him to die while my 10 year old was gone! What kind of closure (or not) would that bring her?!
One night, after my ritual of holding him at my heart and telling him it was ok to...
Three years ago this month my mother died. That call that you expect yet never want. She was the ever ready bunny. She wouldn’t let go – I believe because my father wouldn’t and couldn’t let her go. So she stayed.
Two days after the call I flew to Florida to be with dad – lots of things need to be addressed after a death – not to mention the emotional component. He’d had mother cremated; he’d selected an urn and wanted my opinion before making the final decision.
Seeing someone you love in a box – no matter how plain or fancy – is quite sobering. How can that once vibrant person (or animal) be distilled down to something so SMALL?
This month I said goodbye to my Ginger and 10 days later I picked her up – in a box. And the experience was jarring.
As I drove there, my mantra was
I can do this; I can do this; I can do this.
And then the unexpected happened, and I became a puddle inside as the tears involuntarily...
The last challenge for me since my traumatic brain injury (TBI) last year has been to write – to capture a thought and actually be able to convert it into written words. This blog came, was “downloaded” and felt like my writings did pre-injury. I’d like to believe it has something to do with my feline companion, Ginger. Her gift to me. Gratitude.
A few years ago I was involved in an organization that came up with an entire list of line items of dos and don’ts in having and creating a sacred space. The notion is absurd. Indeed, I found it extremely offensive. One item on the list was no pets.
That was enraging to me, because my practice was in my home and my Healer Kitty was very much a part of each appointment. Some clients she greeted, left while in session and returned when we were done. She knew when to return and clean up the energetic debris. Other clients she literally had to touch them in their broken state. Some clients asked where...