Debwewin River – a story from Bangan Forest, by Laurie Fraser

Debwewin River

Oaky Dokey’s testimony was the most interesting, just because he was the oldest witness, the oldest by far. Oaky Dokey was 436 years old. Can you imagine? He has seen more than 5,000 full moons. He remembers when Bangan Forest had no borders, when there was nothing but trees and rivers and rocks; nothing but animals and birds and plants.

Oaky Dokey wasn’t the oldest tree, Black Gum was even older, but Oakey Dokey had spent his entire life beside Debwewin River with his roots pushed right through River’s North Bank, his gnarly toes in water every day. He was the best witness to what had happened to Debwewin, and so it was his role to come before Council and talk truth.

The case had been brought before the Council of Seven by Debwewin River himself. He cited his right to be clean. Council had come to River to hear witnesses on North Shore.

Oaky Dokey grew on a small crest; River was slightly lower and water was wide here. Long Grasses loved both water and land; they danced all over North Shore. Spectators and supporters had trooped over with the seven Council members and they stood around in small groups. The situation was critical.

Oaky Dokey had a gravelly voice. “From the time I was a boy, River has been my friend, cooling my toes, quenching my thirst, growing my leaves, fattening my acorns. We are entwined and my health depends on him.”

“What changes have you witnessed over the years?” Councillor Crow led the questioning.

“Before Town was built,” said Oaky Dokey, “changes were seasonal: flooding, freezing. Current moved around and Sand Bar was erratic, but the quality of water never changed. Spring streams fed Debwewin fresh melted snows and he was clean. Since Town arrived, I sometimes see garbage in River: plastic bags and cigarette butts. Sometimes there is a smell or a pool of oily substance floating on top of water and she can’t breathe then, through that oil.”

A surge of agreement erupted from groups of deer and beaver and heron.

Ducks quacked loudly from River and frogs pumped their fists. They hated the oil slicks. Trout had already testified about the smell. Goose had brought evidence: one of her babies was all sticky.

“Flooding has increased,” continued Oaky Dokey, “and streams come earlier now that Heat has intensified. Year after year, it is too warm. But the dramatic change has been recent, ever since Town humans built pipes and culverts to join Town water with River. Town water is dirty- brown and smelly- and it mixes into River, our pristine Debwewin.”

Stream testified next. “More animals come to me now because I am clean, and I taste better than River. They are depleting me.”

Councillor Turtle was concerned with Truth and so it was he who spoke next. ”Debwewin River has the right to be clean. It is his birthright. More than that, Debwewin shows us our true selves when we look into him. This truth must not be distorted by garbage or oil. Water must be clear.

This very council uses Debwewin River to show wrongdoers the truth of who they are. It is essential that water reflects clearly for the health and good function of our community.”

Councillor Wolf raised his bushy eyebrows. “May I remind you that Mr. Fisher is waiting for his day in court.”

Everyone already knew that Debwewin River’s case had been pushed ahead because of the Fisher case. There was no way to help Mr. Fisher when there was no Truth to be seen in Debwewin.

“Clearly there is an urgent need to rectify the problem,” Councillor Wise Beaver spoke up. “I’ve been out to the site a number of times. It is a matter of re-directing that sewage water back into Town. Give me a team and 3 days.”

It took 3 days of stealthy work and 3 nights of manic work. It took 45 beavers, maybe 20 or so turtles, and a slew of muskrats and otters. It took about a hundred otters, but you’d swear it was a thousand the way they swarmed the project… and wanted all the credit too at the end.

Wise Beaver’s design perplexed Town humans. It was weeks before they realized that their dirty water was being recycled right back to them. Wise Beaver had blocked the pipelines with dams so that dirty water couldn’t reach River. Otters’ slides and tunnels re-routed that Town water right into the water tower on the edge of Town.

Councillor Eagle took Debwewin River under her loving wing and he healed rapidly there. The trees and plants and animals poured love and gratitude into River as he quenched their thirst once again.

Mr. Fisher’s case came to Council and it was agreed that the time had come for Mr. Fisher to stop hitting Mrs. Fisher. Crow walked with him to Debwewin River, and Fisher looked at his own face in water.

Debwewin showed him the truth of who he was, for when Mr. Fisher looked in water he saw himself as a boy. A sad boy; a scared boy. He saw his father hitting his mother. Then he saw his father as a boy. A sad boy; a scared boy. He saw a teacher hitting that boy. And then Debwewin showed Mr. Fisher another truth. He showed him Little Fisher, his own son, sad and scared, growing up and hitting his wife.

Mr. Fisher saw all these truths in Debwewin River. He understood that he was a hurt fisher; not a bad fisher. Like all animals in Bangan Forest, Fisher trusted Debwewin River, and so he believed the Truth of who he was.

Humans figured it all out, of course- they are the clever ones. The Town workers unblocked the pipelines, bulldozers ripped apart the dams and tunnels. Garbage flowed directly into Debwewin River once more.

So, Wise Beaver’s team got back to work.

And then the bulldozers came back.

Just when it looked like the cycle would never end, a teenage human posted a few pics on Instagram. They went viral- did you see them? Pics of beavers at work, bulldozers at work, sewage flowing into River, trees weeping, ducks unable to fly with their heavy oily wings. Those pics were shared all over social media.

A reporter came and interviewed Oaky Dokey, Wise Beaver and Town Mayor. Mr. Fisher was on the news too. He explained how Debwewin had shown him his true self. He had taken his hurt to Eagle who gave him so much love, that he came to forgive himself and his father too. But the most important interview was with Debwewin River himself. It was the first time a river had been interviewed by a human.

The media exposés about the cycle of waste made people angry. Humans in Town gathered outside the mayor’s office. They pumped their fists like frogs. They pumped their fists for frogs… and oak trees and fish and fisher families. They protested for Debwewin, the truth of the matter.

And so it came to pass that Town workers installed some expensive machines that clean water. Beaver Team became a consulting firm, much in demand in Town. Mr. Fisher became a loving husband; Little Fisher grew up to be peaceful too. And Debwewin River’s rights were upheld- the right to be clean, the right to be treated as a living being, the right to be his own true self.

© Laurie Fraser 2021

Stream Knows – a story from Bangan Forest, by Laurie Fraser

Stream Knows

It was one of May’s cool damp mornings. Fawn wore a beige sweater and an acorn necklace, but nothing on her legs. Her legs were so gorgeously awkward that no male of any species could pass by without gawking at them. Frogs and herons alike admired Fawn’s legs.

She came soundlessly out of Bangan Forest and stood for a moment where Long Grass began. Peace was all around except for Baby Jay squeaking for his mom. Turtle was beside Stream, acting like rocks. His dark eyes peered at Fawn from under the brim of his cap. Turtle was a sucker for legs, but he posed no threat. Fawn stepped over to Stream.

Her exquisite legs were on display as she splayed them apart and bent her mouth to Stream to drink, her saucy white tail in the air.

“Thank you,” she said to Stream, “you quench my thirst.”

“I’ve been gaining weight,” said Stream. “I could fill a camel.”

Fawn lifted her pretty head and looked around. At this point Stream moved slowly, hanging out with little pools and inlets, but further down Stream, rocks would break water into tiny white waves, causing Stream to spit up like a baby. She was small by nature, not a river, but Stream was long, and she knew mountain meadows as intimately as she knew Bangan Forest.

“I don’t know about a camel, but my brother is just behind me,” Fawn laughed her tinkling little laugh. The whole family needed Stream, and they visited every day.

Stream was birthed by Spring herself when Sun came closer each year. Sun hugged Snow with his many warm arms. Snow would melt with love for Sun and take off running and playing all the way down Bangan Mountain. And so it was that baby streams were born all over the place.

Sun hugged everyone- ice and snow, but also tree trunks and winter sleeping places. He woke bears and groundhogs and turtles. Old friend Rain came back as he always does, even Sleet showed up once in a while.

This Spring, Stream had grown until she felt quite large. Deep curves developed, pockets and eddies came into being. It was because of Sun’s warm kisses that her body was constantly changing. Stream adored Sun and would do anything for him, give him anything- even her own self.

Stream and Sun had a complicated relationship. History. They had kissed before- this wasn’t Stream’s first trip down the mountain, after all. Sun hugged the others- snakes and lizards and baby robins- but Stream was the one he kissed. Stream was special.

Stream freely admits to silliness and poor judgement those first heady days with Sun each Spring, when Pussywillow sang her songs, and Crow seemed to fight with everyone. Every year, Stream would expand and stretch under Sun’s attention, her little ripples giggling, her fingers reaching and reaching for more. She would rush and chase and take some crazy risks choosing her path, but streams are like that.

Of course, Day would grow longer then, and Sun had plenty of time for Stream. Stream could count on Sun to shine on her, warm her waves, glisten her peaks, reveal her precious stones. She loved to give to him- vapour, mist, wet kisses… whatever he asked.

The animals of Bangan Forest would come to slake their thirst and to feed too, for small fish frolicked in her. Stream slowed down with Summer and she gave to all who needed her: dragonflies, moose, clouds.

It wouldn’t be until late summer, but sooner or later, every year, Stream would give too much to Sun. Conversation would dry up first, and then it would come to pass that Stream herself would become quite weak. Sun became hard then, and he would dictate her path. He refused her soft kisses, and it broke her in places. Sun would glower and glare as Stream thinned. Bushes often grew nearby, gaining size by late summer, and she would try to hide under them. Sometimes clouds protected her. Rain rarely helped.

When Sun did bother to show up, he was cold and distant. He didn’t have much time for Stream. She would miss him then and call, but if Sun did pick up his phone, he made excuses: he had to work overtime, he wasn’t accustomed to Stream’s constant babbling.

The truth was that Sun had other streams. Spring was always arriving somewhere, causing melts and havoc everywhere she went. I mean, Spring is famous for that. In Paris or on a tall mountain, Spring will mess you up.

And this hard truth meant that Sun could not be present for Stream when leaves fell. Deserted every Autumn, Stream would cry until she was dangerously thin. Some years she barely survived, nothing but a frozen trickle on rock-hard ground.

Winter was good to her though, holding her safely in his strong arms every year. She could always count on Winter for some stability. He brought the Snows, and they guarded her too. She would rest there until Sun came nudging around again.

Oh, he was confident! He could play guitar and of course, being Sun, everything revolved around him. Beautiful, charismatic, he reached every year, reached for Stream.

“Not this year,” Stream would say, her icy thin arms still tight around herself under sleepy slopes of snow.

“Deer is thirsty,” Sun would tease. “She can’t drink ice.”

“She can eat snow!”

“Aww c’mon, Stream. Her babies are coming.”

“Not yet, they’re not.”

But Sun would flirt, you know how he does it- a clear ray right into an eye, a breaking smile, and then the hug that she had been missing… warmth.

“Sweetie,” he called her.

You could say that Stream never learns, but Stream would answer that she always forgives. Stream would say that she loves the cycles of life, the coming of Sun with all his mania, and the leaving of Sun with all his peace. Stream would say that when love encircles us- we must revel in it, expand, and when love has more important things to do- manoo, let it be, take a nap.

Stream knows about this, the cycles that always circle- seasons and water and love.

© Laurie Fraser 2020

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On stones, From What I Can Tell

From What I Can Tell, rocks and stones are alive. They are able to communicate stories and their own history. They absorb energy. By that, I mean that they can absorb emotion and happenings and later report those things. Rocks, stones and crystals are willing to share this energy and knowledge and it can be used for healing among other things. Also, stones can tell us stories about our own selves, even when we come into contact with that stone for the first time.

Stone Bear

Stone Bear

How I know this:

One summer my teacher/healer took a small group of us to an old abandoned farm. Her friend had been using the land for medicine wheels and moon ceremonies, but we went on a dry sunny day. She told us to go and communicate with the plants and trees, off on our own. The women disappeared down paths and through meadows. I was fresh off lyme disease and had a fractured relationship with Mother Earth at that time, afraid of being in nature. I would not be walking across a meadow.

I stuck to the widest path, once a farm road with low stone wall borders. I wondered about the people who had built this farm- the house was small and dark, the barns and sheds decrepit- no one had found their fortune here. In the sun, among birds and insects, I imagined a sweet simple life of weeds and greens, a cow and a horse, wild strawberries and sunny days… I sat on the low stone wall and traced over them with my fingers, listening.

The rocks told me about the days when the wall was built. I was completely surprised! It had been raining and very chilly, down to the bone. Three hard thin men did the work, one was younger. They were hungry and wearing dark clothes.

I knew that inside the farmhouse was as cold as the outdoors, the same feeling I had while living in a cave in Turkey (in the 90s). The fire would have trouble drying their clothes. The stones were placed in misery, “might as well work”, wet cold backs bent in the rain, day after day.

It was my first experience listening to stones.

After that, I learned to hold them and listen. (Instructions below.)

A desert rose took me to a lifetime in the desert when I died on a journey. I remembered the feeling of being buried alive in sand while my camel stood by.

I was male and I was overwhelmed with sadness about not returning to “my woman”. She would worry, would never know what happened. I had failed at getting what I was supposed to bring back; there were children too. I went in and out of my body all night. When I was out, I could look down at the little dune that was growing over me and see the camel and I felt only peace, then back into the body and the pricks of sand, overwhelming emotion, pain… then out- peace… then in….pain, sad…then out- peace

A pink tourmaline said clearly: “I will kill you” and took me a death by strangulation. Terrifying. Later I learned it was Boston, 1800s, attacked from behind.

A quartz gave me the sensation of rocking on water, floating with arms and legs splayed open, completely comfortable.

A smoky quartz took me to the void

An obsidian made me sob.

Just a piece of rock, I don’t know what it was, just from a walk, took me to grasslands, on a horse with no reins or anything at all, holding the neck and flying like the wind across fields and fields of tall grass, both us with long flying hair, feeling one with the animal. I was male, brown legs, the horse was darker than me, chocolate hair rasping my legs- I only saw down and ahead. We got to water eventually- I just jumped off the horse and went under a tree to sleep and the horse went off toward the water. What a sensation- I love to remember that.

Often, I just fall asleep. And from some stones, I learn nothing. Still, feeling them and giving them that time and attention – love really – is a wonderful feeling.

How to learn a stone:

Pick up a stone with your right hand, look at it/say hello/welcome, lie down and place it in your left hand.

Close your eyes and empty your mind (like walking on stones). Listen. Feel. You may feel emotion or a sensation somewhere physically; you might know something, hear something or see something.

When you are ready, move the stone to your navel. Listen. Feel.

Next, over your heart.

Then over your 3rd eye.

Sit up, open your eyes, cradle the stone in both hands and look at it again.

Give thanks.

Example:

My mentor died over a year ago and I miss him terribly. I sometimes manage to contact him, but not always.

One morning, I prayed to him (let’s call him John) and thanked him for the usual stuff. In a fit of loneliness, I picked up a crystal that he gave me years ago. I’ve always been a bit intimidated by it- perfectly clear like water, and quite large. This day, I decided to “learn” it.

I did it in front of the wood fire.

Right hand- tingling.

Left hand- body sensations, like weight, moving energy

Navel- sudden intense love, like a hug

Heart- vision of evergreen forest in the snow, me walking through it, so beautiful and calm, peaceful. I stayed there a long time.

3rd eye- John! Clear as day! I could see him in the mountains where he had lived, staff in hand, blue wool cap, goats all around him! He was herding goats or playing with goats… he was sure happy. I heard his laugh! His voice! I kept watching and I saw that there was an old-fashioned large ring of keys hooked on his staff. Behind him there was a place he goes regularly, where he is building something. It wasn’t clear- just a big deep place of blue in the horizon.

I asked John for a message for his wife and immediately out popped a giant blinking red heart like a cartoon. I asked another question I’ve been wanting to ask for months and got the answer I needed for my healing work.

I never thought of using the crystal to contact him- even when I was desperate to talk to him a year ago and couldn’t get in touch.

I shared the experience with his family, and they reported that he had herded goats for a time as a youngster and had spoken of it as a very happy time in his life.

Pandemic Dating by Laurie Fraser

Ah, pandemic dating: masks coquettishly askew, the scent of eau de sanitizer in the air, third date expectations of a hug- faces turned away…. with masks still on? Or has the time come to strip face coverings and reveal smiles? Sweet smiles, crooked teeth, hopeful lips, since when did mouths become so alluring? Since they’ve been hidden away like 70s porn magazines.

canoeing date

canoeing date

It wasn’t a virus that brought me to my knees in April 2020 – it was the realization that I was alone in my isolation bubble. Many perfectly happy single people became unhappy last spring. We had been busy with demanding jobs or volunteerism or sports. Single people are big on hobbies and travel and brunch with friends. Covid closed the door on that sort of engagement… and we found ourselves profoundly alone.

Now, that’s a whole lot better than being in a bubble with people who bring you down. At least my peace is consistent, the cat fairly agreeable. I imagine though, that everyone else’s big bubbles are full of laughter and stimulating conversation and gourmet cooking. I imagine the rest of you are playing board games, painting basements and making babies. I imagine dying alone, perhaps at the bottom of a staircase, where the cat will have time to eat my face before I am loaded onto a refrigerated truck morgue.

This is what drove droves of previously secure and independent singles to join online dating sites.

Hey, it’s something to do. I created a profile in order to advertise myself. “Woman available.” Some perfectly nice men contacted me. We messaged online, talked on the phone, and yes, that was uplifting, just because it was contact, human contact, a brand-new person to meet. But then… relationships develop. Ah, relationships are so tricky…. especially for the unmotivated. My theory is that although some normally fulfilled single people went online to look for company because of the pandemic, they were not genuinely looking for a partner. They had just been lonely or bored, not really looking to change their life in a meaningful way.

I did meet some men in person. Pandemic dating means no touching is guaranteed. A woman is not going to find herself in a tight corner fending off a man with six hands. I liked that the dates were outside and 6 feet apart. The first one was in a parking lot. We got a take-out breakfast and sat in our separate cars with drivers’ doors open. It was cold that day and windy. Little Styrofoam balls of snow garnished my home fries and we called to each other: “So, do you have any siblings?” “Do you like to ski?” Later we moved to another parking lot and talked with coffee cups in hand, car doors open, shivering.

I live near Morning Owl- a coffee shop in Manotick bordered by a big parking lot. I’ve had 6 or 7 pandemic dates there. The dates play out the same- a parking lot coffee, a walk to the Rideau River nearby and back to the parking lot to say good bye. I can’t resist comparing the men because the logistics of the date don’t change.

Morning Owl, Manotick

Morning Owl, Manotick

Some men talk a lot, and I can’t get a word in. One guy bought me an ice- cream cone, one guy played the outdoor piano, and one guy explained how the dam works. (In so much detail that my mind was free to wander, take in the clouds and the river.) For me, the river has become a test- I head down a thin path to the shore and see how my date reacts. The guy I’m looking for, my new best friend, will come right to the river with me, he will take risks on the rocks, he will interact with the water. So, when one guy held back, fearful of slippery rocks, I knew that he was too old, too fat. Another guy jumped from rock to rock until he sat down in the middle of the river, where I happily joined him. A fellow in shiny dress shoes slid down the muddy path on a misty moisty day, but he didn’t fall.

An hour or two later, we get back to the parking lot and I feel something by then: intrigued? tired? happy it’s over? Very often, what I end up feeling for these men is compassion. I haven’t met even one man who is ready to be in a relationship. I suspect some of them don’t even want it- they are just coping with a pandemic. They’ll go back to normal when society goes back to normal. They will get back to hockey games and football pools, dance clubs and a drink after work with colleagues, and they will have no further need for this dating nonsense.

Two years is the magic number for widowers to show up online. They were married for years, for decades, and they don’t know how to be alone. These guys, I think, will truly pair up with a new partner. They have a hole to fill. At my age, they also often have a house with a garden, a fireplace with 2 armchairs, a pension, and a queen-size bed. It looks easy to step into one of those holes- probably deceptively easy. How could I, messy ole me, replace a wife he loved for a lifetime?

I made supper for a widow. Over salad he told me about his wife’s death. He continued over lasagna- their first meeting, the proposal, the children. I had given up on him before dessert which was when I learned about her career and a couple of awards.

I have to say- I have met a lot of nice men. No duds. No tricksters. No creeps. I was reminded that men are anxious too. They may have little confidence, poor interpersonal skills, even a lack of courtesy. My single women friends (the professionally single who date for years) told me ridiculous things, but I believed them at first. “It’s his turn to call.” “If he doesn’t call, he doesn’t like you. Let it go.” “He’s playing the field. If he doesn’t make a weekend date with you, he is certainly seeing someone else.” “Oh, you’re being ghosted. Whatever you do, don’t call him.” (So, I called him- turns out he was legitimately busy at work, and we got together the following week.)

I know now that these enduringly single women are single for a reason. Men need the same empathy, support and understanding that women need. They are uncertain and they don’t know the dating “rules” that women do. (Especially older men, men who were married a long time.)

Give these guys a break! Reach out your hand- he’ll be relieved to take it in his. A sincere compliment is a gift he will appreciate- it might have been a long time since the last one. Go ahead, call him, even twice in a row. Be clear: “I like being with you because….” “That was fun. I hope we see each other again.” These men are not playing games – the older they are, the more they need simple and direct.

I have given up the idea “Is he the one?” because probably he isn’t. Still, the sun is shining and a decaf latte is in hand and this guy was interested enough to show up. Today I have company on my walk, so I will enjoy the company. Some men are shy; I ask them little questions and tell long stories. Some men never shut up. I know a lot about them, and they know nothing about me. Health issues, grievances, patents pending, funny stories, stories of change. In the end, I can always find some compassion for them- no one is having an easy time right now and kindness goes a long way.

I dated a guy for 4 months and only twice saw him pull out his wallet. The pandemic has severely limited options. In four months, we didn’t venture inside a restaurant, theatre or cinema. We didn’t dance at a club or see a band or go to a festival. What to do when everything is closed? Take-out Thai eaten on a curb beside a roped-off picnic table, long walks in various settings, sidewalk coffee, ice cream cones, homecooked meals, passing a guitar back and forth… eventually spending the day in bed.

I fell hard for that guy. I remember our first hug. We were outside. When he hugged me, he didn’t say, “You are so sweet.” He said, ”We are not social distancing.”

“Mmmmmm,” I answered, “I don’t care.” And so my bubble grew to include him, and it was wonderful company for a while.

Is pandemic dating worth all the effort? Well, it’s something to do. Takes 2 to canoe!

canoe date

canoe date

 

Look & Fix- energy healing

article by Laurie Fraser first published in Tone Canada Magazine, Nov./ Dec. 2020

I use muscle-testing and clairvoyance to communicate with a person’s energy (or the energy of a plant, disabled child, unborn infant, pet – anything alive can communicate).

Once communication is established, the energy will tell me what to remove and how to do it. Usually I am asked to remove old stuck emotions, dysfunctional energy, foreign energy and sometimes, an echo from a past life.

The client’s energy always tells me what to do; I don’t decide anything on my own. (I think that’s why my healing is so effective- I do no thinking- I just follow the energy’s direction. This energy is sometimes called Higher Self or soul or Universal Knowledge, but it is the part of a living being that doesn’t die. It understands what the client needs better than both of us put together.)

I named one of the methods that I use “Look & Fix”. I use clairvoyance to see the state of the client’s energy. I might see colours. For example, a cloud of red around a throat is usually unexpressed anger. I can easily remove these things when I see them, often with my hands. Usually, I see images that represent something else.

Things I’ve removed from clients’ energy:

– items tied to throats- chains, strings, scarfs, locks. (Represent someone else’s control over them, inability to express…)

– many things on feet- heavy boots, cement blocks, chains tying feet together (inability to move forward, paralysis, obstacles…)

– monsters (foreign energy, traumatic events, fears…)

– a broken car (car accident trauma)

– ice picks pointing to body (irritation)

– animals with teeth, open jaws, claws (attacks usually by people)

– deep water- I see the client in a tub or lake (sadness)

– brown hole in the ground, often client trying to climb out or fingers clinging to the edge (depression)

– balloons of all colours (I am directed to pop them or cut them loose. They seem to be old experiences that need to be let go.)

– ropes and strings like a marionette (someone else pulling the strings, lack of control)

– a large open umbrella (once needed for protection but now preventing intimacy)

Sometimes the energy holds wonderful images that it wants to keep. Things I have been directed to not remove:

– happy clouds

– musical instruments (represent a love of music- harps, guitars, pianos, orchestras, musical scales)

– the faces of children and babies (seem to be memories of love)

– flowers, fields of green, trees, meadows, vast pastures of white flowers

– wings

– animals (often identify themselves as totems or temporary helpers, often bringing a message, frequently it is Bear, Wolf, Butterfly, Turtle, or Frog)

Clients report a reduction in symptoms:

– a single woman reports not swearing on the Queensway anymore. “It’s not like the anger is suppressed. It’s just not there now. I can sing in a traffic jam.”

– an older man is no longer insomniac.

– pain reduced for many clients

– an easier time dealing with addiction issues- a woman who had quit drinking still had cues in her energy and when these were removed, she had fewer urges and cravings.

– a baby who cried excessively started crying 50% less immediately after his healing.

– unreasonable jealousy is no longer threatening a young adult’s romantic relationship.

– less anxiety and better sleep for a busy single mom.

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Raccoon & Turtle, by Laurie Fraser

A short story by Laurie Fraser

Raccoon was singing Morning Song as she ran along one of Forest’s paths. Animals of all sizes passed this way: chipmunks, skunks, deer, but tall birches on each side kept this path narrow and dark. Sun was barely out of bed, still stretching his fine arms, but Raccoon was sweating. It was so humid in early summer that heat followed animals right into shade and slept with them day and night.

Raccoon was on the skinny side and her mask was askew. She should have found a bed by now, but Dawn was early these days; there was little time to forage before Night disappeared.

Raccoon was moving so fast when she came upon Turtle that she had to hop right over him. He was a mature strong-legged turtle of enormous size. A beauty.

Raccoon had travelled a long way all by herself; she sure was happy to come upon a handsome dark-eyed turtle.

“Greetings! Where are you headed?”

Turtle adjusted his black cap. He was not fond of conversation, but he answered. “I am bringing provisions to my family.”

“I see,” said Raccoon as she eyed the many packs and boxes tied to Turtle’s back.

“You don’t see.” He nodded back toward his polished shell. “Food is inside.”

“So, what’s all this?” Raccoon motioned to the pile of boxes.

“Burdens.”

“Ah, burdens… Are they heavy?”

“What do you think?” Turtle was tired, and it made him irritable sometimes.

“I think they must be terribly heavy,” soothed Raccoon. “Can I carry one for you?”

Turtle did not answer.

Raccoon ran a circle around him. “Just one?”

“No! Go away!” Turtle knew that all raccoons were thieves and not to be trusted.

Raccoon fell back and watched Turtle’s thick legs dig into the earth and pull him forward a few inches. He flipped his feet forward and then pulled again, dragging his weight and his boxes. His muscles were clearly defined as they strained. One heavy metal box marked ‘Injustice’ was tied to his tail and as he walked, it drew a twisted trail in the earth behind him.

Raccoon picked up the metal box with her front paws. She walked upright, carrying the box still tied to Turtle’s tail. Turtle noticed how good this felt, and he said, “You have beautiful hands.”

Raccoon took this as an invitation to stay. She untied the metal box from Turtle’s tail, tucked it under her arm and began to talk. Now, no one can talk like a raccoon. Once they start, they never shut up. Raccoon told Turtle everything she knew, all her secrets, and all the important thoughts she had had until that moment in time.

It took a very long time for Raccoon to share all of this, and for Turtle to move down Forest’s path between tall birches. Time after time, Raccoon realized that she was ahead of Turtle, so excited was she and so slow was he, that she would have to stop and wait for him. She would sit with rocks or nap covered by Shade while Turtle progressed at his own pace.

It was a day of sitting with rocks for Raccoon and a day of hard work for Turtle, but at the very end, they found themselves at River’s edge. River was silver and flowing fast. Sun had started his drop toward Mother Earth and Sky chose her orange silk nightgown with pink straps.

“We must part ways now,” said Turtle, his dark eyes on Sky’s nightgown. “I will swim across River to the other side and you must continue to tread Forest’s paths.”

“I can swim,” said Raccoon and she took off her shoes.

“It is not an easy crossing,” said Turtle. “You are not heavy enough. River will toss you into Sky and she will catch you in her arms and never let you go.”

He directed her to attach the metal box to his tail again and so she did. He turned his face to Sun and readied himself.

Raccoon tied her shoes to her tail and jumped in Water. Current was strong even near Shoreline and Small Rapids could be heard by an ear turned in their direction.

“Come on!” she shouted from Water. “Why am I always waiting for you?” She showed off some new dance moves. “Hurry up!”

“We separate here,” said Turtle. “I have listened to your silliness long enough. I have important things to do, responsibilities.” He eyed Water’s edge and started a deliberate descent.

Raccoon laughed. “You work too hard!” She somersaulted into baby waves.

Turtle slipped into Water with relief. His burdens lightened, and he moved easily just under the surface of silver ripples.

Raccoon tried to grab the box tied to his tail, but Turtle swished her away. “I don’t need you.”

Raccoon swam alongside Turtle. She could talk even while she was swimming and she offered Turtle advice, a great deal of advice: how to untie boxes from tails, how to reduce baggage, how to run.

“Preposterous,” muttered Turtle, “why would I run?”

Raccoon tried to say, “It’s fun,” but River filled her mouth when she opened it. As always, River was greedy for space. He filled all the spaces he could find in Raccoon- throat and lungs and stomach. Raccoon became heavy with Water and she slipped below the silver surface.

Turtle heard silence and knew Raccoon was gone. He had secretly become fond of the raccoon who had finally shut up. He had chuckled on Forest’s path, and he was no longer accustomed to silence. Turtle reached over with one giant foot and flipped Raccoon over and then slid her onto his back. Raccoon choked and spit and sputtered until Wind found her spaces and forced Water out. Raccoon curled up among the boxes on Turtle’s strong back. She felt protected there, and he liked her weight on him.

River hugged Sky in her orange nightgown with pink straps. Sky hugged River back and got orange all over him. Even Raccoon and Turtle were silky orange for a time as Raccoon slumbered on Turtle’s back. She dreamed of waiting with rocks, as Turtle swam gently, careful not to wake her.

By all accounts, Turtle had journeyed for provisions many times and was expected to arrive without incident, without delay, without a raccoon on his back. Maybe Darkness knows what happened, or maybe Stars could piece it all together… but Moon was the opposite of full that night and so the most reliable source was unable to report.

Raccoon had been dreaming, of course, and Turtle had been charting his way as usual, but something disoriented him. Perhaps it was Darkness playing his games. There is no way to be certain how Turtle got stranded on Sand Bar, but Sand Bar is notoriously erratic, constantly shifting and changing in size. He traps his food by lying in wait.

Once Turtle got stuck, his belly in the grips of hungry Sand Bar, his flippers uselessly flapping the air, Raccoon did her best to move him. She pushed; she shoved.

“You must remove the boxes,” Raccoon said, “or you will die here.”

“Take one,” allowed Turtle.

Raccoon used her clever claws to unfasten the largest burden, over Turtle’s big fat liver. It was full of anger. Turtle felt lighter, but he could not be moved. Raccoon took down a second box marked ‘Explosives’. Then a third one labeled ‘Past’ that had been tied much too tightly to Turtle’s soft heart. As Turtle lightened, he felt relieved… even, just a bit… happy.

Raccoon rocked Turtle from side to side. She sang a love song to Mother Earth as she rocked Turtle. Turtle felt loved. Mother Earth felt loved. Sand Bar gently opened her jaws and released Turtle. He swam free into River. Sand Bar swallowed the boxes.

At Shoreline, Turtle stopped and offered Raccoon a ride. Now, there is not a single raccoon alive who will turn down a ride on a turtle’s back. It’s like a sports car to a raccoon. Everything is fun to them. So Turtle offered a ride and Raccoon clapped her beautiful hands.

Things had changed between them.

“You are slow and heavy,” admitted Raccoon. “I feel safe with you.”

“You are fast and light,” answered Turtle. “I feel uplifted by you.”

And so it was that Turtle arrived with Raccoon on his back. They were both smiling.

© Laurie Fraser 2020

Stone Turtle

Stone Turtle

Cases of energy healing at work, Laurie Fraser

1. Blind woman, age 92, delusional, hospitalized for lung infection, fever, anxious, fighting the nurses:

Long distance session. (Distance is an illusion that doesn’t affect energy healing.)

– affirmation for the whole healing- “I am ready, willing and able to feel safe.” From that, I am led to obstacles affecting security:

– I saw a medium-sized blond dog in her lungs. “Shirley’s” energy reported that this had been a loss. Later, her daughter told me that this was Ram, a beloved family pet who had died more than 30 years ago. I removed this old grief from her lungs. (Oftentimes sadness is held in the lungs, and anger in the liver. That’s why I say smokers are sad and drinkers are angry.) Old emotion is dysfunctional energy and when it is removed, the organ’s energy is free to reach the balance and health it is yearning for.

– I saw (using clairvoyance) and removed: a green hat (something that was affecting her brain negatively, connected to the dementia), lots of red, especially around her head and chest (anger) and water that completely immersed her (overwhelming sadness).

– I found a long black snake that had been in her spine a very long time. This is nasty old energy that I’ve removed from many spines over the years. Great relief for her body to be rid of this. My teacher called this Reptilian Energy; it also appears as lizards and tiny fast crocodile-looking creatures. Usually black snakes though. All of them lay eggs and so when I find one, I always check if they have left eggs behind somewhere in the client’s body- usually bowels.

– Next I saw 9 rats with giant teeth feeding on her body. I used 2 hands to remove each one- that’s how big they were. These rats represented bacteria. (When their energy is removed, they will die.)

– Message from Shirley’s own heart – eliminate sugar completely, immediately. (Have you seen the amount of processed sugar given to hospital patients? Apple juice feeds bacteria. Good call, Shirley!)

– Message from Shirley’s heart to her daughter: “Please bring my stuff to the hospital.” She showed me a brown cigar box with her things inside: trinkets, jewelry, an old car key, religious cards. She asked to hold these things in order to feel calmer and to remember who she is! (Again, the energy has the solution.)

– calming procedure (Biocomputer Operating System)

The effects were immediate: “Shirley” became cooperative with the nurses, cried when the cigar box arrived and is now completely occupied with it. She is breathing better and expects release on the weekend.

2. Healthy middle-aged woman with chronic lower back pain:

I went directly to the spine- between L5 and S1, I found an old emotion- “tight for space, no room”. The vertebrae were too close together and this was causing pain.

I told her: This occurred at age 35. What was happening at that age that had something to do with tight or no space?

Turns out her fourth child, who was unplanned, had arrived when she still had the third child on her hip. “One hip for each of them. On top of that, we didn’t even have a place to put another crib. Yep, it was tight alright!”

I removed the old emotion and the back pain disappeared and has not returned.

3. Baby who never stopped crying:

The cause of crying took me to a vision of a large oval red wound with blood pouring out of it. This baby was a Syrian refugee and I was shocked that he might have seen such a frightening sight. I asked his energy: Was it war? Answer: It was birth.

Still shocked, I realized that this was the infant’s view on his way out of the birth canal, and yes, birth is a scary event.

I removed the anxiety he hadn’t been able to release on his own. There was much more anxiety to remove, and I understood that he had picked some of that up from his parents, travel etc. I saw and removed images that looked like orange monsters, sharp things like needles and knives, lots of colours indicating emotion especially red and black.

His mother still hugs me on sight because he finally ceased the constant crying & everyone got some sleep.

write to thewordnotspoken@gmail.com for an appointment. More info here.

A. Miranda

A. Miranda in B.C.

On energetic ties & cutting cords (From What I Can Tell- a healer’s observations)

From What I Can Tell, energetic ties appear as cords joining 2 people. They run between chakras, usually second chakra to second chakra, but sometimes heart to heart. They can be any colour but usually black or orange, like an extension cord. They can be thin as a thread or thick as a tree trunk, like one of those bundles of cables that run under oceans.

Ties (or cords) are created by shared experiences, a matter of reaching out to give and receive, often with love. They can be created with the purpose of gaining energy or control. Sometimes these “power cords” are disguised as loving.

It is best to cut ties even when the relationship is strong and good. There is always an element that is old, and the energy is unbalanced. This is much the same as wearing the same stones/crystals for long lengths of time. Your energy becomes used to them and adjusts for them thinking they are permanent, like compensating for a bum knee. Then your energy is off-balance when the crystals are removed or the ties are cut.

Even when cords are cut, new ones will continue to reach out and grow.

Cutting ties does not affect love. The love goes on without interruption. It is safe to cut ties with family members etc.

How I Know This:

I am often directed by peoples’ energy to cut ties. I see them energetically as described above. I cut the ties with a slicing hand motion or I use my sword. I slice the cords close to the client’s chakra.

Interestingly, the person who has lost ties with the client will often get in touch within a day “to see if you’re okay”. This person is likely noticing a lack of power if they are energy suckers or if they control the client in any way. They will send out more ties immediately. (Yeah, you have to keep cutting them. I have cut ties with my mother at least once/month for years. I cut the ties between my boss and I every day for a month after quitting a job.)

I have been directed to cut ties for:

– Myself, when a friendship ended abruptly. For the ties to be cut is less painful than feeling them slowly rip apart and tear… if you pull Band-aids off quickly, you already get the idea.

– A widower who still had thick tree trunk ties with his wife. His wife, Amy, had crossed a year earlier. He wanted to start a new relationship but felt stuck, unable to clean his wife’s things out of the house and move on. Amy came to me and asked me to cut their ties in order to help her husband with his paralysis and grief. Things started to move for him then- he had an affair with the woman who helped sort out his house.

– A young woman who had been abused by her father as a child. Cutting cords (many, old, tangled, thick) helped her to deal with the past. Giving her the power to cut the ties herself every time she had a nightmare, gave her real control over his energetic presence.

– A depressed empty-nester whose children had flown. Oh my, it broke her heart to cut the ties… but it didn’t change her love for them or the fact that they were gone… it only changed her level of pain. The sadness became easier to manage. (The band-aid thing.)

– A young child who was bullied at school. I taught him how to do it so he could cut ties every day. It gave him a sense of control; in fact, the bully became interested in torturing others instead.

– An older woman feeling harassed at work. Her co-worker watched for chances to correct and embarrass her at meetings, so that she became nervous about participating. By cutting ties, the client felt strong enough to speak up for herself at a crucial moment and the bullying waned.

– A client with a schizophrenic parent and a very complicated childhood. Mother’s manipulative energy was everywhere entwined in this woman and I cut everywhere to release her. I cut in circles all around her body and limbs, cut in front of each eye etc.

How to do it:

You don’t need a healer to cut ties for you. You don’t need to see the ties in order to cut them.

Take a moment to focus. When you think of this person, where do you feel it in your body? If you do feel something, remember to cut ties coming in at that point too (eg Your wrist aches when you think of your ex. You will cut ties at the wrist as well as the front of your body.)

Say loudly and clearly, and mean it:

“I am the only authority in charge of my Being. I cut all ties between my Self, ___________(full name) and __________(full name).”

Make a cutting/slicing motion with your hand across the front of your body, or use a stainless steel knife. Do this from your throat area right down to your pelvis in one sweeping motion.

Say:

“So be it and so it is.”

You may not know the full name. Identify the being in another way, eg. Karen, the volunteer.

Repeat as often as needed. If you are in the middle of a break-up, you might do that several times a day until you get some relief from emotion.

artist: Jac Reid

artist: Jac Reid

Laurie Fraser’s Answer to Steve Forbert’s Toast to a Midsummer Evening.

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Laurie Fraser’s Answer to Steve Forbert’s Toast to a Midsummer Evening.

Here’s to fat women eating large ice cream cones

nattering past my bedroom window.

Here’s to vicious baseball games,

a drive to nowhere,

hot bars,

sweaty women.

Here’s to Mr. Alcoholic dead at 2 a.m.

bang

bang

banging his wife.

Here’s to two litters of kittens in the kitchen.

Here’s to bags of charcoal and pot and Cheezies,

butterflies over the tiny uncut lawn,

old songs on the radio.

Here’s to noisy, bossy kids,

heat in my days

love in my ways

D.Q. on my waist.

 

Living in Mechanicsville in the 80s