LayLay Flutterby- a short story from Bangan Forest

In honour of Indigenous families on this special day.

This story was written for an Ojibwe friend to read to his pre-teen daughter. Her feedback is below. Your feedback is welcome too- please comment below!

A. Miranda

A. Miranda

LayLay was flying distractedly, her focus more on the book in her hands than her surroundings. She was new to the world, born yesterday, so she wasn’t especially practiced at flying, or reading either for that matter. LayLay was brand new, just born, but she could fly; she could fly right by because she was a flutterby.

Now flutterbys are different than butterflies, everyone knows that. Usually flutterbys are brown or beige or white; they aren’t bright like butterflies. They’re soft too- their wings are made of dust. So delicate that they cannot be touched- that’s how fragile flutterby wings are.

LayLay was brand new, born yesterday, but she knew that she didn’t want to be a flutterby. Her wings were white with matching brown ovals that looked like eyes. What a disappointment! She wanted stiff purple wings with black scalloped edging and a few white dots. Or, she’d be happy with yellow wings, bright ones with green spots. But she’d have to be a butterfly to have colours like that.

She wasn’t alone- plenty of LoLos and LeeLees and LuLus were furry brown and beige. But, she was the only one nicknamed Four Eyes. Most flutterbys were content with their wings; LayLay alone read Vogue and restricted her food intake. LayLay was brand new, born yesterday, but she was already saving up for a wing augmentation.

LayLay was so preoccupied with her reading that she didn’t see Lady Bug coming from the other direction. Alas, Lady Bug was speeding- her daughter, Ann, had told her teacher that she had a tummy ache and Lady Bug didn’t know that it wasn’t true. She was in a rush, and she crashed right into LayLay’s left wing. Both of LayLay’s wings showered dust everywhere, and she dropped her book.

Lady Bug was in shock for a few seconds, but she gave herself a shake and shouted, “No reading in flight!” Then she hiked up her red tights and flew away.

Now, the book that LayLay dropped was no ordinary book. It was her diary. It was tiny, and it had fallen from a great height. Worse, it had fallen from a great height onto Forest’s floor which was a very messy place.

Poor LayLay fluttered about Forest’s floor. She searched among lichen and mushrooms, old leaves and pine needles, but no luck.

LayLay had no luck because her diary had been found immediately. LayLay’s diary had fallen from a great height right through a small pile of sticks and right smack onto Cruel Cricket’s table- just as he was sitting down to lunch.  And so, Cricket read all of LayLay’s secrets, right then and right there.

Now if Turtle had found it, well, that would be fine because turtles can keep a secret. Crickets- well, that’s another story. Like warblers and blue jays and squirrels, crickets just can’t keep news to themselves.

After lunch, Cricket went out for a stroll over to Main Meadow where he read the diary out loud to all LayLay’s friends and enemies- she had a few even though she was brand new, just born yesterday- plenty of birds and bats considered flutterbys to be a tasty mouthful.

I don’t know if you can imagine the scene: Cruel Cricket reading aloud on sturdy Milkweed in the middle of Main Meadow, flutterbys and butterflys, lady bugs and lady birds… insects of all kinds and plenty of songbirds too, swooping over his head… and laughing. Imagine LayLay darting furiously among them, her four eyes glaring, her miniscule mouth open, screaming at the top of her lungs (but still inaudible to most beings) about her right to privacy, her right to run her own life, her right to privacy, her right to express herself and… her RIGHT to PRIVACY!

How vigorously did LayLay flap her wings! How furiously did she shout! She might have been a fragile flutterby, but she had guts and she had rights. All living beings have rights- even fat grubs with wings made of dust. LayLay took her fury to Councillor Buffalo because she wanted respect. Buffalo decided to involve the rest of Council because the case was complicated.

Butterflies and flutterbys have very short life spans, only one to ten days. The Council of Bangan Forest gathered to hear the case without delay. Bear, Beaver, Wolf, Turtle, Buffalo, Crow and Eagle travelled to Main Meadow to hear LayLay’s complaint.

Councillor Buffalo was correct- it was a complicated case. LayLay had written some disturbing things in her diary. She wrote that she didn’t want to be Moth- she used the old derogatory term. The word Moth had been replaced by the more accurate name, Flutterby, and nobody said Moth anymore. ‘Moths are hideous!’ LayLay had written, ‘and I am the ugliest of all.’ She wanted to be a butterfly. ‘Butterflies have bodies as slender as pine needle. I want strong gorgeous wings that don’t fall apart,’ she wrote. ‘I would give anything to be rid of my plain hairy wings and my fat grubby body.’

Laylay stood in front of Council with her wings folded back, her antennae shaking, her little hands in fists. “Perhaps it would be easier to respect me if I was a butterfly,” she declared.

Councillor Wolf’s ears pricked. “Flutterbys are vital to our community … and so is every other being- from Algae to Buffalo. You are not more or less than anyone else. We are all beautifully different and we are all valued equally.”

“LayLay Flutterby,” Buffalo spoke next. “It is true that Cricket must respect you. However, you must also show respect. You must respect your own Flutterby self, LayLay.”

Councillor Eagle agreed: “This is a case about self-love.”

“Indeed,” cawed Councillor Crow. “This is a case about accepting yourself for who you are.”

And so it came to pass that Cruel Cricket was asked to join the Peace Committee to do some work on the anti-gossip campaign.

As for LayLay, she flew down to Debwewin River with Councillor Crow on one side of her and Councillor Eagle on the other. Land below was summer green. Wind was mostly calm, just active enough for Leaves to wave back at them and for the trip to be pleasant- lots of gliding.

“I know how I look already,” LayLay said to Crow. “I saw myself in a mirror at the Bay where I was born under some wool blankets. I have never seen an uglier moth than myself.”

“Flutterby,” corrected Crow.

“I have a million headbanger cousins in Town. They smash into lamps and lightbulbs all night long. That’s how much they hate themselves.”

As they soared over Debwewin’s south shore, Eagle said, “Look down now, look into water. What do you see?”

LayLay looked down at Debwewin River. He was completely calm today, a twinkle in his blue eyes. LayLay saw her reflection: white wings with matching brown spots that looked like crossed eyes.

“I see a fat moth with an extra set of freak eyes.”

“Look again,” said Eagle. “Look with love. You are a precious being, LayLay. Born with purpose and freedom both. Look closely, my Love. What do you see?”

“Dirty brown dust falling off me.”

“Ah, but it is not dirt. Precious LayLay, when you spread your wings and fly, happy dust floats here and there and everywhere, bringing a lightness, a delicate bliss. Just the sight of you can cause happiness. Plants and animals alike bask in the silt of flutterbys… and butterflies too, for they are similar, spreading joy among the wildflower blooms and Forest’s paths. Pollinators follow your pristine energy trails to meadows and fields. Bee depends on you.”

“All creatures with wings clean Air,” said Crow. He flapped once and glided with Wind, who played a little.

LayLay got curious then, and she really looked into Debwewin River. For the first time she looked carefully into her eyes- not her oddly-crossed painted eyes, but her real eyes. She saw a sweet soul, an innocent.

“I am just a baby,” she spoke with wonder, “I will spread happy dust and I will not live long.” Debwewin had shown her the truth of the matter.

“You will give of yourself, your whole self, to Bat or Robin or maybe, Robin’s hungry baby. It will be your final gift.” Eagle tilted one wing over her, loving her.

Her body looked fat in Debwewin, it was true. But it was no longer disappointing to LayLay. She understood that she was a rich source of protein.

_______

Now, if Ann hadn’t lied to her teacher, if LayLay hadn’t dropped her diary, if Cricket hadn’t read it and cruelly gossiped, if LayLay had never complained to the Council of Seven and then had never seen the truth in Debwewin… what a tragic life she might have led.

As it was, LayLay lived 4 days and nights. She didn’t waste a moment wishing to be anything other than her own spectacular self. She loved her work!

LayLay fluttered here, there and everywhere, clearing Air of black and blue emotions. Her brown happy dust was golden by her third day of life. It was plentiful and LayLay gave it freely- to Breeze and Wind, to meadows and Forest’s paths.

LayLay fluttered near Meadow Creek where Raccoon and Turtle had broken up and she dissipated the sadness there. She fluttered along the ditch beside Danger Road, and she cleared fear and despair. She fluttered along the trail left by Black Bear as he stomped angrily to Blackberry Thicket.

When LayLay fluttered by, animals felt happy. Sometimes they felt lighter, as if they might flutter too, at least dance a bit, darting up and down like LayLay Flutterby, the sweetest morsel that ever flew.

In the end, it was over Weeds that LayLay gave her own fat body to Wren, who did declare, “What a sweet-tasting protein! Megwich Flutterby.”

Raccoon & Turtle, by Laurie Fraser

A short story from Bangan Forest.

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

Muscle testing workshops. Learn kinesiology with Laurie Fraser, energy healer

2020

2020

I hate shopping. By the time I got around to buying my dehumidifier, it had been on a to-do list for months. As I walked up an entire aisle of dehumidifier choices in a big box store, I could hear an older couple discussing square feet, hose vs. bucket, cost and size. Their conversation petered as they watched me rub my index finger and thumb together in front of each brand. The box that “tested yes” for me was middle of the line in size and price. I loaded it on a cart and walked away. The woman shook herself and called after me: “Did you do some research on these?” I grinned and shrugged, “No, just muscle-testing.” The dehumidifier has worked out perfectly.

Our energy comes into contact with other energies constantly, a million times a day. Why do you feel wonderful after meeting some people and depleted after even a brief exchange with others? Certainly all living things are imbued with different energies (or frequencies). When you pick up a pear, it has a different effect on your energy than a cigarette. Even an organic pear will test stronger than a non-organic pear. As it comes into your energy field it will either strengthen it or weaken it. If you could read that effect, you could make an informed choice before buying or eating.

More and more people with allergies energetically test their foods. As I walk along in the grocery store, I rub my index finger and thumb together. When they “stick” (or test yes), I put the food in my basket. It’s a simple test in a restaurant where the server can’t know all the ingredients. I test the items listed on the menu (I don’t need the food to be right in front of me) and then order with confidence.

All energy healing depends on communication between the practitioner and the client’s energy. This is done by intuition or muscle-testing or both.  I use muscle-testing which is quick, easy and infallible. Muscle-testing takes me through a series of menus and sub-menus, finally ending at a specific procedure (I know many and when I learn something new, it is added to my menu (or list of available healing options with me). And so, any procedure I do on a client, has been requested by their energy. It is never a decision made by me.

And so a client’s uncomfortable symptom will be treated the way his/her energy requests by leading me through menus and submenus until I reach the healing modality that will work. (Because what is that energy that fills and surrounds your body? That energy that never dies? That communicates easily and knows all the answers? Whatever you call it, it is very intelligent and knows you implicitly.)

It’s fascinating. As I gain experience, I am stunned to see how many of our physical woes are caused by emotional energetic blocks. For example, when I “lock in” (or address) a problem like herpes, I am led by the person’s energy to many causes: a virus, a depleted root chakra, a fear of love, and a bad break up fifteen years ago. All of these causes can be cleared energetically. (Heal the energy first and it will lead the body to health). I’ve addressed heavy menstrual flow and gone to a healing menopausal procedure. But the cause of the disturbed hormones and glands has always been emotional: a miscarriage, adolescent experiences, a fear of losing control, coming from a line of women who were unable to cry and so bled instead. All of these things can be cleared energetically and the symptom alleviated.

I have successfully addressed all sorts of pathogens, diseases, pain, allergies, infertility, emotional and spiritual issues, fears, insomnia, depression, anxiety, past life issues (a behaviour pattern or physical symptom is related to a past life trauma) and much more.

When I had lyme disease (notice the past tense) and the doctors didn’t know what was wrong with me after 15 months of  specialists and almost unbearable symptoms, it was a B.O.S. practitioner who tossed a lyme filter on me, muscle-tested, and said, “You should ask for a lyme test.” (A filter has the frequency of, in this case, lyme bacteria, in it, and it will either muscle test positively or not- resonating with bacteria in the body, or not. No different than a pear.) My medical treatment (antibiotics) lasted over a year, but included regular energy healing sessions which determined many contributors to the illness. It addressed a mean bacteria, that’s for sure, but also deep grief, old events, and a lack of spiritual perspective. It brought immediate pain relief.  To my doctor’s astonishment, I was on antibiotics for a year, not the predicted two.

I had been receiving energy healing treatments for a couple of years before it occurred to me to ask, “What is this energy that is communicated with? It’s intelligent. It knows me better than me. Is it my soul? Higher Self? God? Universal energy? And why do I ask only health-related questions?” At the end of my next session, instead of asking about supplements as usual, I gave my practitioner a list of a hundred archetypes and asked which ones were mine. He muscled-tested eleven positives and I went home and studied them, their lessons, their effect on my life. I began to ask questions like: “Is it in my highest good to take job A or B? Is in my highest good to be in contact with this person? Is it my highest good to learn Qigong, get a dog, pursue this relationship, change careers, paint the bathroom?”

But I was dependent on my healer for answers and saw him only once a week. When I learned muscle-testing myself, my life changed once more. I am in constant communication with my energy. My guidance is always with me, but I’ve learned not to be overly dependent on muscle-testing. My intuition has developed and my confidence in intuition has grown as I verify it by muscle-testing. That doesn’t mean life got easy. What is in my highest good, is not necessarily the easiest route. But even on the narrow path, I have constant communication and support. And I’ve learned that I’m always fine and the best thing for me, always happens. I have learned how deeply I am loved; the importance of my every thought, word, and act; the impact decisions have on my health, energy, joy and progress.

Absolutely anyone can learn the simple skill of muscle-testing regardless of age, belief-system, or state of health. I believe it should be taught at school, along with reading and writing.

MUSCLE-TESTING WORKSHOPS:

Two to four people, three hours, $65.00.

Leave a comment or reply below.

Get together a group of friends and enjoy a fun afternoon filled with healthy snacks, practical exercises and clear effective small-group learning.

Or just contact me and I’ll put a group together- you’ll meet like-minded people for sure!

Britannia Beach, Ottawa

Britannia Beach, Ottawa

Managing Emotion

Trillium

Trillium

Emotions enrich our lives, but they are meant to come and go, always ebbing and flowing in a natural rhythm. Gibran wrote “Together joy and sorrow come and when one sits alone with you at your board remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.”

Sometimes emotions get stuck, and we have trouble letting them go. For so many reasons, we hang on to our emotions: nostalgia, fear of change, enjoyment of secondary benefits (eg- sympathy, assistance, attention…) Sometimes getting stuck in an emotion saves us from looking at what’s under it. Or what’s next.

Emotions are meant to pass through us. When they get stuck, it is usually in an organ or chakra. Generally, smokers are sad; drinkers are angry. That’s because sadness and grief get stuck in the lungs. Anger mostly gets stuck in the liver and the bladder (pissed off), but some anger settles into the digestive system. Anger shows up in the root chakra when it’s about money.

I remove betrayal and despair from hearts quite often. Worry and overthinking tend to build up in the spleen. Fear finds a home in the kidneys. I once removed fear from the third eye of a person who had lost touch with their intuition.

Examples:

Removed paranoia from the kidneys re: covid and lockdown

Removed betrayal from the heart re: past partner & trepidation about a new love.

Removed fury from the liver of an alcoholic re: childhood abuse

Removed anger from root chakra of a client with hemorrhoids re: divorce & finances

Removed grief from smoker’s lungs re: wife’s death

Removed anxiety from stomach re: conflict

Removed fear from the kidneys re: job search.

Removed self-doubt from the solar chakra re: finding her path

The problem with emotions getting stuck is that they then resonate with similar emotions in the future making them seem more intense. We call these our “triggers”, right? If a supervisor criticizes and your reaction is to feel like a 4-year-old, the experience is resonating with old emotions. If your only response is tears or paralysis, well, those old emotions are really interfering with your ability to keep the boss’s criticism in perspective.

When your children leave the nest or you go through a break-up, does it resonate with every other time in your life that you felt abandoned? Are you coping better each time it happens? Or worse?

And so we’re back to that old image of the full glass. If your energy is chock-full of anxiety, the next visit to the dentist is going to put you over the top. If some of that old anxiety is removed, the dentist becomes much more manageable.

A woman who I worked on telephoned to say, “I don’t yell at cars on the Queensway anymore. And I’m not holding anything back. It’s just not there. I just don’t feel angry.”

Another client sent this email: “We had a session a year ago… I really have had positive life changes since then. Thank you for that. I don’t have night terrors anymore. I quit all drugs successfully.”

There are many ways to remove emotions from our bodies. I do it energetically. You can do it by letting emotions flow through at the time they happen. This is a conscious choice. Joy moves and so does despair. Don’t let emotions stagnate in the body. They can cause illness. (How well do organs fight cancer when they’re burdened with emotion?)

Emotion, especially when it’s flowing, is truly musical, adding a dimension to our lives that can be exquisite: the deepest love, the sweetest empathy… awe, inspiration… even the gulping tragedy of loss is exquisite when we allow ourselves to feel it, fully feel it, and then move on.

_________________________________________

Laurie Fraser is a writer and certified BOS practitioner.  $90.00/session. Email: thewordnotspoken@gmail.com

appointment info here.

 

 

freckled face

today my amaryllis bloomed orange

dotted with red.

today is the first day of a war.

on tv, a soldier with green and beige spots said,

“they honestly think it’s an honour to die for their country

and we’re going to give them the opportunity.”

it’s an honour for him too, I hear.

when I sleep I dream of children

splattered with blood,

the amaryllis

big as a freckled face

jan. 16, 1991

Walking out of Lockdown

Walking out healthy, that is. I don’t know if lockdown left anyone unscathed.

Energy healing examples:

Marnie, aged 39, survived lockdown with 2 adolescent boys and her husband working from home.

  1. calming procedure, removed generalized anxiety.
  2. Look and Fix procedure. I am clairvoyant. I saw things in Marnie’s energy asked her energy whether they should be removed. Generally, the image represents an experience or emotion.
    1. I removed red (anger) and water over her entire body (overwhelming sadness).
    2. I removed chains from around her feet and wrists, a collar from her neck (lack of control and freedom) and some pots and pans. (She says the kitchen work was “unending”.)
    3. There was a dog in her aura and her energy wanted him to stay. I described him- small, black, barky. She said it was Bailey who had died several years earlier. (Sometimes I see things that the energy does not want removed: flowers of all kinds, musical instruments, babies, totems… The baby and dog are not really there- it’s love, a memory only.)
  3. Holographic healing. Marnie’s energy directed me to her root chakra. I pulled out a holograph of a dining room table, many people around the table, very crowded and chaotic. Not enough chairs for everyone. My job when seeing a holograph is to fix it. In turn, the chakra becomes less burdened, the body healthier. In this case, Marnie’s energy directed me to add chairs, make the room & table bigger, give everyone some space. Then I blew the darkness / black away with my breath and replaced it with red, the proper colour for that chakra.
  4. Holographic healing on kidneys. I saw a red wagon with only 3 wheels. The client was “fearful about moving forward”. Kidneys hold fears. I put a fourth wheel on the wagon, greased wheels.
  5. Past life healing. Marnie’s energy took me to a vision of her life 5 lifetimes ago. She was male, Asian, and stuck behind a locked door. It was a jail of some sort. I unlocked the door & let him out, but, as well, I cleared the emotions from that lifetime. It was resonating with covid restrictions, making it more difficult for Marnie to cope.
  6. Sugar Correction. This a Biocomputer Operating System procedure to assist the body with sugar detox. (Ya, I think a lot of us fell into poor eating habits during lockdown.)
  7. Calming procedure again, this time specific to “job search”.

Results:

Marnie has updated her resume. She reports fewer butterflies in her stomach and more patience with teens. (She has healthier kidneys too, but that is preventive stuff- removing emotions from organs results in less-stressed organs. eg. grief from lungs, anger from liver, loss and sadness from hearts, nurturing issues from breasts.)

I do only what the client’s energy directs me to do. I communicate with their energy with muscle-testing and clairvoyance.

Flora, age 71, vaccine fears, anxiety, dizziness, breast cancer survivor.

Her father, who crossed over several years ago, attended the session. He had a message of support and love for her. Her reply, through tears: “Thank you Papa. It means so much to me!”

  1. anti-anxiety procedure (general calming)
  2. trapped freeze trauma from giving birth years ago removed. (fear of hospitals)
  3. trapped freeze trauma from illness at ages 45 – 47 removed. (mistrust of medical professionals and procedures, cancer trauma)
  4. holographic healing on root chakra. (I repaired a broken house that represented her body.)
  5. Past life healing (death due to infection, age 37, female, born 1642, East coast of South America.
  6. Look and Fix (medical paraphernalia, a car accident, various stuck emotions- all removed from her aura.)

Results:

Flora reports: “I’m calmer than I’ve been in over a year”.

_________

Laurie Fraser is B.O.S. certified, 14 years experience, $90. subsidies available

thewordnotspoken@gmail.com

first published in Tone Canada Magazine, July 2021

 

Disappeared Deer- a short story by Laurie Fraser

Disappeared Deer 

for International Women’s Day,

lest we forget the missing and murdered indigenous people in Canada.

When Wolf howls at Moon, it is said that all Disappeared Deer hear their names. He howls each name, and they know he is looking for them; they know they are not forgotten. Their mothers and fathers hear their own anguish when Wolf howls. Wind joins in then, wailing and moaning around trees and dens, calling out their names with Wolf: “Ada, Ruth, Cheyenne, Alissa, Rhonda, Azraya, Edna, Marilyn, Cheryl, Delaine, Beatrice, Gladys…”

When Councillor Wolf howls the names of Disappeared Deer, most animals in Bangan Forest stop to listen. It is respect for missing deer, but it is respect for Wolf as well. Strong, black… and always alone, Councillor Wolf is their protector.

The Deer Clan is experiencing a heartbreaking crisis: deer, usually females, are disappearing. It’s been going on for years.  disappeared deer

The Council of Seven have met, of course, many times about Disappeared Deer. Experts have been brought in, studies studied. Theories abound, most of them involving foul play, humans and poachers. Councillor Eagle can’t let go of the UFO angle and he is harshly judged for his alien theory, but to be fair, Eagle does fly awfully high, sometimes quite close to Sun, and occasionally he reports seeing things that the residents of Bangan Forest can hardly believe.

At Council, evidence has come to light that supports the tricking theory. Daanis Deer was only an adolescent when she told her friends that a human had offered her a job dancing in Town. Her father had forced her to dance from a young age, so it was natural for her to think of herself as a dancer. Daanis was especially pretty with little white freckles on her nose. Males admired her gorgeous legs and long supple neck.

“She said his name was Mr. Human,” Daanis’s friend reported to Council. “He told her that he owned some dance clubs and vegetarian restaurants. Daanis said he was really nice to her, like a boyfriend. He gave her a whole box of sugar.”

Another missing deer named Nindaanis had told her family that she was going to visit some friends in Next Town, but she had never arrived. No one knew what happened to Nindaanis.

“It’s a long journey between towns,” Wise Beaver pointed out. “Anything can happen out there. Land between towns is not protected like Bangan; travel isn’t safe for deer.”

“They’ve probably been shot by human hunters,” said Councillor Turtle. He was concerned with truth and it was he who would be the one to speak the most difficult words. “They may be in freezers and on dinner plates all over the country.”

“Daanis talked about dancing opportunities in far off places like Greenland and Japan and Las Vegas. She was quite excited about that,” said her friend.

“Japan has plenty of their own deer,” said Eagle, who had been there.

“Mr. Human said Daanis was especially beautiful. They don’t have deer that look like her in Japan.”

“You see?” said Wolf. “It’s a type of trap. If one deer didn’t come home, we could imagine she is settled in a new home. However, it’s not one deer- it’s dozens now. How could so many disappear without a word, without a message sent home to their families? Obviously, they are not working at jobs or travelling to exciting destinations.”

The Forest Boys were asked to come before The Council of Seven and advise. The Forest Boys are a loosely organized group of minor criminals operating in Bangan Forest. They’re mostly involved in sugar smuggling. Membership includes elk, raccoons, coyotes, weasels and badgers.

It was Fat Badger who spoke. “We are aware of humans contacting deer and offering jobs or gifts of sugar. That happens in Outer Meadow usually, or in the ditch on this side of Danger Road. Sometimes deer want the sugar so much that they go off with the humans. We don’t know where they go. We try to convince them to stay because we want them eating our sugar, not town sugar… but they tell us it’s free in Town.”

“How can sugar be free?” asked Wolf.

“I know, that’s what we say, but they’ve made new friends. They’ve been promised.”

Ever since hearing Fat Badger’s testimony, Wolf pretty much lives in that ditch. All day he watches for new friends with promises and job offers that are too good to be true. He watches for fake new boyfriends who are too generous to be true. He watches for young deer who are uncertain of their path, who are especially beautiful with white freckles on their noses. He watches for hunters with guns and camouflage hats and refrigerated trucks.

He is one frustrated wolf. He spends his days watching from ditches and meadows’ edges, but Wolf has not found even one human handing out sugar and telling stories of fame and wealth. He has not returned even one female deer or fawn to Bangan Forest.

It’s still a mystery, the facts are not known, dozens of females are lost out there- maybe as close as the nearest Town, maybe as far as a stage in Japan. They might be travelling the world. They might be trying to get home. There’s a chance, and no one except Turtle is willing to acknowledge this possibility, but there’s a chance that they’re dead.

All of us here in Bangan Forest miss these females very much. They were supposed to grow up here, helping us, as deer do, with pruning and so on. They were our future Council members and who knows- teachers, ballet dancers, firefighters.

There’s a chance too that they are singing and dancing in your town.

Could you keep an eye out for these dappled deer with gorgeous legs? Their mothers want to see them. Their fathers feel helpless. Wolf howls their names every night. You can know them if you listen: “Loraine, Nashie, Shelley, Minnie, Verna, Spring, Laura, Savanna, Jordina, Viola, Margaret, Regis, Mitzi, Rebecca, Paula, Maxine, Theresa, Vivian, Mary, Tashina, Sarah, Robyn, Patrina, Melissa, Lynn… “

After he howls the names, Wolf runs around Mother Earth, circles her every single night looking for Disappeared Deer in towns and forests and bus stations. Moon assists, but even so, Wolf could use a hand at this point. I mean, if you see some pretty female deer on the street, please, just take a moment and ask: “What’s your name? Where are you from? Do you want to go home?”

Deer at Mud Lake eating Sumac

Deer at Mud Lake eating Sumac

On Leaving the Body (What happens when you die.)

From What I Can Tell, the part of us that leaves the dying body is what you know as your Self. When I was 9, I thought that I would change when I became a teenager, but I remained exactly the same person. I thought that adult me would be different again, but it is not. The part of you that doesn’t change over the years- that’s the part that leaves the body and doesn’t die. I call it my energy or my Self or my Godself, but it is also called the soul, the higher self, universal knowledge, spirit. This doesn’t die, and although we are all connected in that we all affect each other tremendously, we do retain a sense of our individual self after death.

Just before leaving the body, some people have a chance to review recordings of this life located in the chakras. I believe that these holographic records are then filed in the Akashic Records. This is the traditional “movie of your life” but the focus is on how you made others feel, the impact you had on the lives you touched, including the plants, animals and planet. This is almost like watching memories- it is not to be confused with later reviews of goals, progress, karma, healing, etc. accomplished in this lifetime.

We leave our body feeling whole and we get help to show us the way. It can be a loved one or several loved ones, angels, guides, totems, or other. It will be the one you pray to. If you have a relationship with Jesus, he will be there. If it is Ganesh- he will be there. Sometimes we see only a pillar of light or a tunnel of light. If you feel unsure, just pray and help will arrive before the prayer is even completed.

It is best not to look back. When your loved one has died, the greatest gift you can give is to tell them  over and over: “I love you. I’ll be okay. We will look after each other here. You go now, as far as you can go, into your own Light. Don’t look back. Pray if you need help. Go, my Love. I’ll see you after your journey.” Actually, “Congratulations” is appropriate.

(Whatever you do, don’t say: “I can’t live without you. How will I manage? Don’t leave me.”)

When we leave the body, we feel fondness for it, almost a nostalgic love, as we would feel for a boat that had once carried us across an ocean, now irreparable and scarred. How well we know the eccentricities of the vessel: the surprising strength, the sensitive greenstick fracture. So, we say goodbye to this body with gratitude. Free from the constraint, pain and emotion, we slip out like a puff of smoke.

Once free of the body, we feel only love, lightness of being, an ease, a freedom. We do have things to do at that time and help will arrive as needed or requested. Generally, there is a variety of possibilities that I’m aware of, and I assume there are many more.

I have seen that you could go to a void. I found it so pleasant there, that I would have loved to stay. It is an emptiness, but not a hollow emptiness, more of a silence and solitude that can be wonderfully soothing if you’ve died feeling depleted, maybe from giving too much.

If you move past the void, there are giant buildings that look to be made of glass- but it is more of a translucent light- something that you can put your hand through, yet sit on if you like. (I sat on the steps of a library to meet my husband who had passed years before. The steps were made of that light material, as was the huge library.)

Or you could close into yourself and be miserable with grief or darkness or guilt or remorse. You will need saving in this case, and someone will come for you. If you are able, pray for help. Some beings in this state chose to end their last life deliberately.

Or you could go straight to another dimension- I’ve seen only 5th and 7th.

Or you could go to your “home” which is the retreat connected with your Ascendant Master.

Once you have crossed over, there is a time period of 40 days that will involve debriefing & healing. You might spend time in giant healing crystals that look like tanning beds. My understanding is that there is no real judgement, hopefully not even from our Selves. However, we were born with goals & hopes already in place on day 1.

For example, you were fated to meet your abusive husband from a previous life. Except this time, you had the power: you were the daycamp leader, and he was an obnoxious boy in your group. So, you had an opportunity to balance karma, to choose compassion instead of aggression when in power. How did you do? Did you hate that kid and the two of you made each other miserable all summer? Or did you find a way to like that boy, even give him some power? Did he find a way to trust you?

And so, in these forty days, we have counsel while we review our last life and consider what was accomplished, or not, and what damage was done… to the planet, other beings and our own selves.

I see us signing off on the lifetime and the record is then entered as a holograph in a book embossed with our true name. I have opened my book to random pages. Instead of reading the story of that lifetime, I see a holograph that pops up from the page- it’s a lot like watching a movie. (I don’t know if this is the Akashic Record or Library.)

How I Know This: I have seen these things in meditations, healing sessions on dying clients, and during teachings here and on the Other Side.

Desert Rose Meditation:

This happened while learning a stone.

I chose to learn a desert rose because of a life-long fascination with the desert. I’ve acquired many desert roses over time- I just love them. The stone is originally a collection of sharp edges that become worn soft by the wind, until they look like beige-pink roses.

I held the stone in both hands and felt a surge of love for it.

I laid down and held the stone in my left hand. I felt pinpricks all over my body.

I put the stone on my navel, and I could see sand and sand dunes. (I thought I was making this up, so I moved the stone to my heart.)

I felt despair, deep unfixable sadness with the desert rose on my heart and I began to tear up. (This surprised me, always a good sign that it is not just my imagination.)

I placed the stone my 3rd eye. I was lying in the sand, the sun setting, my camel beside me. Tremendous despair. I felt the blowing grains of sand needling my body. I knew that I would die here, the camel would die, and my woman would never know what happened to me. I loved her very much, and there were children too. A whole community, in fact, was depending on me for something that I would not be able to accomplish. I had failed. They would not get what was needed. Oh, my woman! I could see her standing at the edge of a village, her hand shielding her eyes as she scanned the horizon for me. She would watch for me in vain for months. The sand pricked all over my skin; I shivered uncontrollably. I had failed; they would suffer.

I rose up out of my body with wonder and surprise! How easy it was! No pain. In fact, there was no sadness. The despair was gone. I felt peace. Finally, after the sand and wind, I felt a stillness and silence.

I fell back into my body and the pain. Now I could notice the stomach cramps, the weakness, my throat like it was closed or stuck, the sand hitting me and hitting me, my woman, the guilt.

I lifted out of my body and floated above. Peaceful. Watched the sand bury my small body… and understood that I am the earth, that many of my bodies are part of the earth.

I went in and out of the body all night.

The next part of the meditation is to sit up and look at the stone. It took me a long time to stop shivering and sit up. I opened my eyes and looked at the desert rose in my hand. Beautiful. I closed my eyes. I saw a giant red rose and it came so suddenly with so much love that I burst out crying. It came with a message: “We love you! We are so proud of you. It’s okay that you didn’t bring help. Everything works out fine, all the time. Only the love is real.”

The message wasn’t: “You are forgiven,” because there was nothing to forgive. But I felt forgiven and that was what I wanted. Relief.

The red rose was fresh, wide open, a few drops of dew on juicy petals… to someone who just experienced a desert death, well, it was one of the most beautiful sights of my life.

Thank you, Desert Rose.

desert roses

desert roses

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