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 a salad roll he told me about his wife’s death. He continued over trout- their first meeting, the proposal, the children. I had given up on him even before dessert which was when I learned about her esteemed 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 to have 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

 

What you don’t know about Seasonal Affective Disorder

first published in Tone Canada Magazine, Nov. 2020 by L.Fraser

We all heard about Seasonal Affective Disorder years ago. Media reported that people affected by S.A.D. need more daylight in winter to ward off depression. We got the message that being outside on a sunny winter day is uplifting.

It is not as commonly known that S.A.D. also involves mania. S.A.D. is not always sad, but it is always bipolar.

At its root, S.A.D. is the brain’s inability to regulate light coming in through the eyes. Light affects moods. S.A.D. can be caused by eye surgery and can appear later in life. It can be of varying degrees or severity.

Most people agree that they have more energy in spring / summer, and they feel slower or heavier in fall / winter. I think of this as a natural tendency toward hibernation. Circadian rhythms and biological clocks are cued by the sun. A time to sow and grow is followed by a time to harvest and rest. Traditionally, we have needed more energy for the long days of work and less energy for the dark days of rest. I wonder if the sun actually feeds our needs by giving us more energy in summer.

Anyone who has suffered from jetlag will attest to the discomfort of being out of sync with the sun. S.A.D. causes withdrawal or sadness or outright depression, starting around fall equinox. This can affect performance, sleep and appetite during winter. Spring Equinox is the most stressful time as days lengthen and short bouts of mania can appear. The mania increases until summer solstice and can continue right into the fall.

Mania is not always happy. Let’s be clear- mania is a busy-ness, a feeling of being driven, and although that can be positive (depending on the project), it can also be full of angst. It can be frantic or unfocused. Appetite and sleep are sacrificed for the project, and sometimes, sleep is just not possible.

Now for the wonderful news: pharmaceuticals are not required. S.A.D. can be effectively addressed by regulating light and dark on the brain’s behalf. As with jetlag, this can be accomplished with activity, light exposure and avoidance.

The most dangerous time for people with S.A.D. is spring. When manic episodes alternate with depression, a person can become suicidal. After all, impulse control is a manic symptom and the spring roller coaster ride is worthy of despair. (T.S. Elliot, who had S.A.D., wrote: “April is cruelest month.”)

The best way to interrupt the whole S.A.D. cycle is to stop the mania by wearing a sleep mask all summer. You will need 10 – 11 hours of darkness each night. (This means lying in bed in the morning with that mask on even though you want to jump into the day at dawn). If you are very manic, you must force sleep and wear sunglasses, even indoors.

As the days shorten, the sleep masks (or black out curtains) can be discarded as you try to get 12 hours light for your brain and 12 hours dark. As winter comes on, this must be accomplished by adding sunlight to your day with lightbulbs and outdoor activity.

‘Course you could always just move near the equator. Sun rises and sets every day at 6:30.

winter peace

winter peace

Look & Fix- a new healing modality from Laurie Fraser

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.

view from hammock

view from hammock

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.

Stone Turtle

Stone Turtle

Synchronicity by Laurie Fraser

a short story by Laurie Fraser

This is a story about synchronicity. I don’t know what to make of it- I’m not religious or even spiritual, really. I was raised without churches or mosques or synagogues. I was raised without a prayer. I knew who God was, of course, but I confused him with Santa Claus- a kindly old man who could see everything and could grant any wish, give any gift…but that didn’t mean he would.

That’s what I knew about God. In my 20s, when my baby died, I asked my parents, “Do you pray?” and they both said yes. My mother was sure and clear about it, of course she does. My father was vague.

“I don’t know how to pray,” I said. I didn’t know where my daughter had gone or if I could ask God about her somehow. I was angry with my parents after that conversation. They’d given me lots of things, nurtured lots of skills…but they hadn’t given me faith. Oh, I know, my mom’s from a nut-job family of fundamentalists, and she thought she was protecting us kids from the crazy confines of religion – I’m grateful for that.

But they had learned faith from their parents and it was a resource they used, especially when other hope was lost.

I wondered, could Beca see me now? Or had she disappeared completely?

She was the tiniest baby I’ve ever seen, born and died on the same day. She was born without a sound, total silence in that room, although nurses and doctors were elbow to elbow. They had no hope and I had no faith and so they didn’t stick her full of tubes and monitors in a little plastic house. They took her away and brought her back clean, in a blanket, and placed her in my arms.

I opened the blanket and saw a pulse right through her chest- her heart was beating! How could the doctors have missed it? Mesmerized, I reached my finger toward it, and gently, the nurse stopped me from touching the pulse.

“It’s electrical,” she said. “It’s just the brain.”

I didn’t understand. After many minutes, the beating stopped. For me, she died then. The death certificate would say Stillborn, but she wasn’t still.

But that isn’t my story.

When the anniversary of that day came around a year later, I knew I should do something to recognize the day. I was through the depression. I had adjusted to single life after her father left. I was back at work, although the two co-workers who had been pregnant with me- that club that I had lost membership in- were still on maternity leave.

I had bought a small dress, the prettiest I could find: lavender with white flowers, a white collar. I had wrapped it and put in the passenger seat of the seat of the car. And then I’d headed off to work.

Work was the best place to be. I was the only full-time staff in a community centre that was crawling with kids. We had 5 day camps chock full of children aged 3 to 12. The 13 – 15 year olds were the volunteer program, trained and supervised by me too, the most reliable of them paired with the younger children with special needs. The rest of them just ran around causing trouble. I once had to get one of them off the roof.

Once they hit 16, they could be hired. I was supervising a large group of counsellors- all students, sometimes hung over or broken-hearted or planning something wild for the kids. Like a huge piece of plastic on a hillside with a hose- a water slide for them to go crazy on, sometimes not taking turns very well.

I was only slightly older than them all, but I had the city’s legal team in my awareness. They were always afraid of getting sued. No tobogganing. Too dangerous. Summer camp made them nervous. But I was not wholly on their side yet. I was still in my 20s.

When a flash flood poured down on us one afternoon, the campers came screaming across the parking lot from the park. The counsellors did try to get them into the community centre, but when the kids saw the parking lot had become a shallow swimming pool, they laid in the water, laughing hysterically, trying to swim, their hands and legs splashing, the parking lot looking like it had beached a bunch of fish in bathing suits.

They were soaked anyway and I stood in the downpour laughing at them, grateful the lawyers were downtown. When the thunder and lightning started, they came shrieking into the building, slipping on the floor and shaking their hair like dogs.

It didn’t rain on Beca’s anniversary. It was terribly bright and hot, just like the day she was born. I was sweaty and maybe stinky as I got into my car at 5 pm and saw the wrapped present. With a start, I realized I had forgotten the significance of the day.

I caught my breath and started the car. Guzzling a jar of water, driving slowly down the leafy suburban street, I recognized the irony of spending the afternoon in a hospital with a child.

Ali was fine now – his parents had met us at the hospital and taken him home. He’d choked on something in the indoor pool. His blue lips called it “foam” but even after evacuating the pool, the lifeguards hadn’t found anything untoward. Still, I reflected, it was never fun to be in an ambulance with a child, unsure of his condition, with parents and municipal lawyers to inform.

I was driving very slowly, marvelling at the irony, when something flew directly toward my windshield and loudly thunked against the front of the car. I stopped. Whatever it was, it had come out of the sky, dive-bombing my car.

A bird? Birds are too clever for that.

I rolled the car ahead a bit, watching behind me. Nothing on the road.

I went a bit further. Nothing.

It had been a loud thunk. It wasn’t nothing. I rolled closer to the curb and stopped the car.

I got out and walked to the front of my car.

I gasped. A bird was on the grill. I looked closer. One dead bird. I brushed it slightly and it did not fall. One stuck dead bird, a small one, the feathers splayed out as if it was flying.

“I’m so sorry,” I told it, familiar grief suddenly burgeoning in me like blowing up a balloon. “Oh my goodness.” Tears filled my eyes and I was hopeless, helpless. What to do?

I looked up and around and saw a woman walking past a stroller in her front yard toward me. She had a running hose in her hand, and I saw she’d been washing her van. She smiled and called my name. To my horror, I recognized her as well- a co-worker who worked at a different community centre, but who wasn’t working today. She was on maternity leave this beautiful summer day.

I was working on the other hand. I had failed to produce a crying baby. I had a dead bird stuck on the front of my car.

I felt shame, profound embarrassment, my baby-killing nature on display, but I smiled and quickly blinked the tears away.

We had to ask how are you and how is the baby and how is work, no mention of Beca, but finally to the problem at hand: a bird on my grill. She stepped back- the bird was clearly my problem, not hers. I was mortified. I can use that word: mortified.

Swallowing hard, I reached to pull the bird away. It was just a baby. Maybe it had fallen out of the nest; maybe it was trying to fly. It didn’t come off the grill. Horror gave way to panic; I had to do this and get away from this woman’s picket fence. The head was stuck in a gap between two pieces of metal. I put my thumb and index finger around the tiny head.  I wiggled it and the soft skin moved around a hard skull the size and feel of a marble. I wiggled it loose, peeled the body off the grill, stood up and looked around.

The woman beckoned to me, and I followed her with the bird in my palm. She walked to the garage and lifted the lid of a garbage can. Newspaper filled it almost to the top. I laid the bird on it, and she closed the lid.

I walked back to my car and got in. I drove to St. Mary’s Maternity Home and gave the receptionist the wrapped gift. She promised to give it to one of the young moms.

It felt a little anti-climactic.

Now I don’t know about God or synchronicity or the Universe the way some people do. I don’t know what all that means or why that happened. I can only say that it was a very important day and that I wasn’t alone in knowing that.

The evening before they flew the nest.

The evening before they flew the nest.

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 with Laurie Fraser, energy healer.

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

On Conception, Miscarriage & Abortion by Laurie Fraser

FROM WHAT I CAN TELL, women (potential mothers) and souls (who want to be born) must come to agreement- they both have the free will to create a baby or not to create a baby, or to continue creating the baby until birth or to stop creating the baby at any point. Both the woman and the soul must agree completely or the baby will not be created and carried to a successful birth. The soul holds no negative emotion about being refused the womb; it fully respects the woman’s free will and will simply search for another appropriate body.

HOW I KNOW THIS: During healings I have seen and communicated with souls who were looking for a womb. One client had aborted 3 times, 2 of them recently. She was shocked by the 3rd pregnancy so close on the heels of the second, although, for many reasons, she wasn’t ready to be a mom. She asked me if her future children needed to be born now for some reason.

The little girl floating around the client during the healing was a giggly sweet thing wearing ladybug pajamas, about a year old in the vision I had of her. She said she loved the client from another life, but if she wasn’t ready for parenthood, then she would choose another mother close by.

The client’s sister became pregnant within months and a year later, a healthy girl was born. She has red hair. The client swears that, far more often than is normal, she will see ladybugs while caring for her niece. One on the windowsill of the hospital room, several in her sister’s house, cartoons, clothes, toys and books. She calls her niece My Little Ladybug.

A client who wanted children dearly but could not conceive after 2 years of effort, had a little boy baby appear at her healing with me. This soul told me that he didn’t see how he could fit into these prospective parents’ lives. They both worked fulltime; she was taking an evening course. Most days, they went to the gym before work, and he was starting a part time photography business on the weekends. I told the client to speak the baby’s soul throughout the days, telling him what would be different if he were there in body, welcoming him. He was born 11 months later: a stubborn boy who loves attention.

I was working on another client for childhood rape. She was raised without a father in South America where unprotected girls like her were considered fair game by the men in her village. She had been raped many times. I had removed some of the old emotion and dysfunctional energy in previous sessions, but more kept rising to the surface. At this session, a little girl appeared to me, ragged and dirty.

“Who are you?” I asked, and learned she was a baby miscarried by the client at age 13. The client remembered the event with profound shame. The visiting baby soul wanted me to tell the client that she had terminated the pregnancy herself because the life would have just been too hard. The baby had simply changed her mind.

An infertile client who was desperate for a child, had a soul hanging around her that looked almost like a little monkey. Mischievous as hell. Darting around, playing tricks on me to the point that I checked every time I saw him that he was, in fact, a soul from God and not some negative energy or being.

This soul would appear and disappear during healings, sometimes he’d be gone for weeks. I advised the client to talk to him, invite him to be her son, but the soul came less and less often. In the end, the client never did conceive. I don’t know why that soul didn’t embody, and I wonder why another one didn’t come along. She would have been such a great mother- you know the type- but there are many reasons that our lives take the turns they do. (fate, karma and other energetic laws, hey- maybe the father was wrong, or maybe there will be issues later in their lives that make it clear why a child wouldn’t really have worked for them or …)

A client who always felt guilty about an abortion had the soul visit during a healing session and tell her that there was nothing to forgive, only love; there was no sin, only free will.

My own daughter was stillborn in 1991, a term I dislike because her heart beat for an hour, and she felt alive in my arms before she felt dead. I visit her energetically, usually on her birthday. She’s in another body now; she was 12 in 2019. She lives on the west coast; she isn’t clear on states or provinces.

What she wants to show me is skiing. She is learning to ski, and she is absolutely ecstatic when she skis. Red suit and red skis with a white stripe. Her family is together and happy- she answers those questions distractedly. She seems like a child when I communicate with her now that she’s in a body, but years ago, her communication was more peaceful, with soft edges and tons of love. She always said that our experience as mother and daughter in this lifetime was perfect for both of us- I had other things that I needed to do in this life and so that was as much motherhood as I would have time for. As well, we both experienced exquisite love & loss during those moments of birth & death… and it is one of life’s pleasures and purposes to experience love in many forms.

A shorter version of this article appears in Tone magazine Nov. 2019. This is an excerpt from a book that I am currently writing: From What I Can Tell- A Healer’s Observations (C)

DSC02754