The Flow of Things

IMG_2216Right now I should be prone (well almost) on an exam table, having my IUD removed. Call my crazy, but I was really, really looking forward to this moment. For 22 years, minus the brief lapse of time when I was pregnant with my children who are less than 1.5 years apart in age, I have allowed my body to be artificially regulated. Ironically, it is a childbirth (not mine of course) that has prevented my appointment from being met today. So I wait, a little longer, to return to the cycles of the moon. I have my tea before me, in the beautiful mug gifted to me by my mother-in-law for my 41st birthday, which is occurring on Saturday. Having my IUD removed as my gift to myself.

Instead, I am sipping my decaf. green tea, having forgone the luxuries of the occasional black tea, as well as the other “bitters” that my body doesn’t care for me to consume (per Julianne’s advice, read more below), while I think about Mary and the eyes that pull me into the sepia ghost of the photograph.

IMG_2218My great-grandmother, Lizzie and twin to Kate, is on the left, but it’s the mystery of Mary that calls to me. Look at her expression, do you see it too? I see age beyond her years; I see an understanding of the soul.

My grandmother, daughter to Lizzie, used to tell me that I reminded me of her aunt and her grandmother (also named Mary). When I had my Vedic birth chart done by Julianne Victoria of Through the Peacock’s Eyes, she told me to research the maternal side of my family and I would find women like me.

According to my grandmother, and Mary’s grand-daughter, with whom I’ve recently connected, Mary “knew” things. She could foretell events before they occurred. There was always something about Mary that made her different from her sisters. I wonder how much she “knew” and didn’t tell.” I wonder what stories she held inside.

I think she must have held some of them back, especially in her earlier years, when we are most afraid of  our voices and our truths. I know I did. When I look at this photograph, I see what else I share with Mary, as well as her sisters. Bring your eyes down to their throats, and you will see they are all enlarged. The sisters shared the goiters of untreated thyroid disease, another legacy passed down on the maternal side of my family.

It is a legacy of silence and hidden truths. My great-grandmother, Lizzie, a tight-rope walker in the Skerbeck Circus in Wisconsin, fell for a married man when she was, herself, unwed and birthed my grandmother month’s later. She held the secret of her daughter’s father until she died at the age of 99. I don’t know about her sisters’ secrets, but I image they all had them. Don’t we all? Especially those that harbor power?


The Number 5

When the number 5 comes into my life, whether in dreams, a memory, or as a number that appears throughout a particular day, I think of self-empowerment, independence and the “free soul” (as Denise Linn refers to the number in her book, The Hidden Power of Dreams). When I think of the number 5, the color blue comes to mind: the color of the throat chakra, self-expresison and inner truth.

The number 5, of course, also represents a physical age. When we are 5, we are, ideally, just coming into the expression of our independence and personal truths. By the age of 5, most of us are able to feed ourselves, tie our own shoes, go to school, and express our minds with clarity and conviction. A 5 yr. old child is still close enough to the world of spirit to remember, to believe and to see.

When one wishes to heal and reclaim his or her Inner Truth, it is often beneficial, if not essential, to reclaim the inner child. I have found that the age of 5 is a good place to start. There have been many events, and numbers in the form of ages, that have been essential to my own life journey, and for the healing of my inner truth, but I can think of none more important than 5. Let me share a snapshot of this child who still lives inside of me.

Picture, if you will, a pretty little girl with deep blue eyes and wavy hair the color of ripened wheat resting past her shoulders. She has the round cheeks of a baby and a dimple on her chin, and, sometimes, she has a smile that lights up her face. The little girl, Alethea, has just moved to Henniker, NH with her  mother, older sister, and a man who is trying to replace the father she has left behind in Oregon.

Alethea loves playing with her dolls and her two cats. She loves her best friend in kindergarten with the soft brown eyes and curls, her sister and her mother, but she’s not sure she loves her new father. Alethea misses her small white house in Portland with its TV and indoor toilet. She misses her friends and her grandparents, but she knows she is not supposed to miss the father they left behind.

The little girl knows inside her heart that fairies play under the clusters of star flowers, but she has already forgotten how to see them. The magic of her world is fading quickly, being replaced by fear, secrets and doubt. By the time she turns 6, Alethea forgets she has her own voice.

This 5 year old child, in many ways, shaped the woman I became. She is the little girl I see when I need to heal my inner child. The more I heal, the more radiant she becomes. Now, instead of a  small child hovering inside the shadows of doubt and fear, I see a magnificent little girl full of joy and love. She sparkles with possiblity. She sings with the clear voice of her truth.

Reclaiming the “free soul,” is a journey of many steps. Sometimes when one aspect is healed, another appears to take its place, reaching with desperate hands for light. Healing can come in many forms. Writing is one of them. If you want to learn who you are, a good place to start is by rediscovering who you were at 5.  Write down everything your remember. Write what you loved. Write what you feared. Write your sorrows. Your joys. Write what you believed in. Write your truth.


If you eat one meal a week, your body will not be nourished. The same concept applies to our souls. We are each here to fulfill the journey we set out to follow when we decided to incarnate in this life. Yet, we often forget to nourish ourselves.

I have been inconsistent in feeding my soul this summer. With my children home, I have chosen not to focus on my own needs. Meditation has been sporadic, at best. On my children’s last day of school I got certified for Shamballa energy healing, levels 1 and 2. Ideally I would be practicing energy healing on myself every day, but that too has been sporadic. Then there is writing. Something I know I need to do everyday. A psychic once suggested that I at least try to journal everyday. Journaling has never been something I am happy doing, but she had a good point. My soul needs me to write everyday. I’m not doing that this summer.

So, I shouldn’t have been surprise last week (and I wasn’t, I knew the results before they came) when I had my TSH levels checked and found out they were rising instead of dropping. If we don’t heal and nurture our souls, our bodies won’t heal. They are our barometers for our spiritual health. When we experience dis-ease in the physical, our souls are crying out for nourishment.

The confirmation that my throat chakra was not spinning in a glorious blue wheel of truth was not a surprise, but it was a good wake up call. Sometimes we need to let things go and make way for our needs. Let the laundry sit another day. Let the kids watch another half hour of TV. Let the grass grow another day. Sit and listen to your soul and find our what it wants. Do it everyday and you will thrive.



I was surprised by the lightning, even though I had welcomed the steady rain that promises to fill the day with the possibility of quiet reflection, meditation and writing. I began by spreading the oracle cards from Steve Farmer’s deck Earth Magic, in a circle upon my coffee table. Twice I let my hand gravitate to the cards at the top of the circle before I pulled out Lightning/Power, and looked at the orange fire spread in a vein of electricity  touching the turquoise crest of waves. There are rocks along the shore, the trees lean against the pull of the wind. The sky is indigo. Least I doubt my choice of cards,  Farmer’s guidebook folded open to its page.

I spread tiger-eye, lapis lazuli, malachite, turquoise and carnelian agate around my pillar of unpolished rose quartz, guarded it with my white angel and lit the pink candle on the table. I was ready to welcome power in whatever form it wanted to speak to me, but first I placed amethyst in my left palm and angelite in my right. Closing gently my fists, I felt the pulses of crystal energy.

I spent about an hour in meditation, letting my thoughts come and go, feeling the hiccup of my breath against my heartbeat. I cannot tell you everything I saw or felt, because some things are stored only for our experience and not for memory. I can tell you that Angelite brought three animal totems to me. First came Seal, a new visitor, wearing the gray silk of creative waters. Then Bat appeared, another surprise, upside down like the Hanged Man card in tarot. (Yesterday I found myself thinking about this card and how it relates to rainbows. That red energy turned towards the sky.) Bat evokes nighttime, like the Power/Lightning card I drew. It foreshadows a time of transition and initiation. I heard the rustle of the crystals still left in their bags beside me. Bat reminds us that there is rebirth out of darkness if we are willing to let the old die to make way for new life. Through facing our fears we can become empowered. The last two nights I shifted through the clutter of old fears still nesting inside of me. I entered dreams within dreams, analyzing the residue of bathrooms, wiping feces from white walls. I tried to resist, but could not, the scattering of superficial beauty tangled into necklaces in boxes and scattered like dust under beds…

After I watched Seal and Bat appear, my old friend, Snake stopped by, twisting its body into dance, its head lifted with two wide eyes daring mine to close. I must tell you that before, during and after these three animals appeared to me, my body was experiencing pockets of pain.  I watched yellow/white energy transfer to my more closed-off right side of my body in gentle waves. This was easy compared to the dis-ease stored in my belly, that center of  power. Nausea came and the impulse to pull out of my meditation. From outside my body I felt my breath deepen as it traveled to the source of the pain, urging release of the old, stored energy to make way for new. This, was not easy.   Hovering at the base of my spine was a spinning vortex, its hum lifting, energizing. The kundalini of Snake. And then there was that dark pit, deep inside my lower right abdomen. I felt and heard my breath deepen its pull as it worked to release an energy accumulation beyond this life. I put my feet on the floor, welcoming the red energy of Earth to aid my breath, feeling the easy hum inside my left foot, but not my right.

This morning I took my first dose of my decreased thyroid medication. 88. A double-dose of infinity. It’s just the beginning.


I am remembering the energy of places. The dark corner where the walls met under the threshold of my bedroom door. A place where I had to force my eyes to look three times before I buried them under blankets, a fortress of stuffed animals around me. The pull of the wells. The first on the path between our home and our neighbors, down the slight slope of earth under the hemlocks and many steps past the circles of white flowers that hid my fairies. The second on the hill in Canterbury, beside the stone remains of a structure long abandoned. There was the skeleton of a child, I was sure, underneath that heavy gray slab of granite.

I am remembering the patches of light. The field of wildflowers and long grasses above the shop where my stepfather worked. The large rock in front of my neighbor’s home where I would sit and watch the dragonflies dance above the earth. The way the heavy brown seat of our home-made couch would pulse with the light energy of my body when my mother would brush my long brown hair into braids.

Yesterday I tried to explain the news I had received about my thyroid to a friend, and later my husband, listing each spiritually balancing activity that came to mind that I had engaged in over the past year or more. I realized, only later, that it is all a mater of energy. The only thing that really exists.

“You might fix that issue with your throat,” she had told me on the phone. Not the doctor who read the lab results, but the psychic I had spoken to six months before. Even though the energy around my throat had been spinning in a tight circle the size of an eraser, she knew it was already starting to heal.

“You have to want to heal,” I told someone else today, “so that your body and spirit understand your intention.” When you make that choice, the Universe will allow the energy to come back into balance. Inside of that desire you will find your truth and you will begin to sing it in whatever form it needs to manifest.

One Down

Today I crossed off #14 on my List to the Universe. It was my most recently added item: “Alethea has a turquoise necklace like the one in her dream.” Yesterday a good friend gave me that necklace, along with a pair of matching earrings. I was deeply touched by her act of friendship.

About a month ago I saw myself during my dream state wearing a beautiful necklace draped with stones of turquoise. It was the only image of the dream (at least remembered), this magnificent necklace around my throat.

Throat, I realized later was the take away message. About a week after my dream I was sitting in class listening to my instructor talk about crystals and stones and how they can relate to and work with the chakra points on our body. When she got to the fifth chakra, the throat, she introduced us to turquoise.  As you might have guessed, a light-bulb clicked on. I had been given another way to work on that throat chakra.

Within a week of hearing about my experience, my friend Rachel made me a necklace much like the one in my dream. The stones, the color of robins’ eggs or a cloudless sky, now surround my neck, nudging me to create; to crack open the imagination and let new life take flight.

Thank you Rachel for your wonderful gift!