Tag: intention

  • Follow the Energy

    Greek philosopher, Heraclitus, way back in the sixth century B.C. said: “You cannot step twice into the same river.” This is because the river is in flux. Perhaps it is also because we are always changing. I certainly was aware of this truth while attending a Level 1 Healing Touch workshop at the VA in Hines, Illinois. I attended my first Healing Touch Level 1 in February, 1995.

    Accompanied to the workshop by my friend, Norleen, my heart was filled with compassion for the nurses whose work days are rife in life-or-death actions. Instructor, Ann O’Malley, tells us to ground and center, attune to the universal healing energy and the person we are working with, and to “follow the energy” because “you cannot do it wrong.”

    This class is all women, most nurses working with Veterans here at Hines VA.

    We learn the basic healing sequence, practice on/with one another, and find ourselves changing, just like the river.

    Since my first Level 1 Class in 1995, I have had the honor to help many individuals become aware of the subtle healing energies. I have great respect for Ann, and I am grateful she is still teaching after all these years. I am profoundly aware it is good for each of us to be here in this class and simultaneously good for our world that we can be open and willing to learn and share the truth.

    During the last weeks of my brother-in-law’s life, as he and his family dealt with his increased body restlessness, I offered to share some of the Healing Touch techniques that might lessen or abate some of his symptoms. In our class Ann stresses the ethics of always asking permission before sharing Healing Touch. She tells of a man who sat in her chair for a demonstration at a health fair. When she sensed he was not open, she asked him if he wanted to receive the Healing Touch. He admitted his wife had made him come and he did not believe in it. She suggested he be honest about that and allow someone else to come. He left the chair.

    We must be open.

    We must be willing.

    Sunday morning’s Thought for Today from the Brahma Kumaris seems so very timely: I would rather have a mind opened by wonder than one closed by belief.

    I am grateful my brother-in-law was admitted to Hanson Hospice Center and that he passed peacefully. In the last minutes of his earthly life between 3 and 5 a.m., I was awake. (See Shadow Work)

    I toyed with the thought of getting dressed and going to Hanson Hospice Center, but determined I could just as easily offer support from home. As I settled onto the sofa in the great room here in the tiny house, my heart went automatically to the Healing Touch technique called Chakra Spread, often used in hospice care for the terminally ill. You begin by holding the sole of one foot with the palm of your hand and the other hand on top of the foot or ankle. Then you do the same to the other foot. Next, you do a thumb-lock handshake with your other hand on the back of the client’s hand. Repeat with the other hand.

    Moving gently from about a foot above the head you slowly and tenderly spread each chakra three times: Crown, Brow, Throat, Heart, Solar Plexus, Sacral, Root, knees (done together), and ankles (done together), then slip the “earthy boots” or “worldly cares” off the feet. This entire process is repeated three times before you return to one hand and hold it in the thumb-lock handshake again as you place your other hand over the person’s heart.

    This is often taught to a family member or loved one. Rather than sit in fear or sadness, it is a way of praying with your whole body, mind, and spirit.

    I fell asleep on the sofa after doing the chakra spread and it was shortly before 5 a.m. when my husband came in to tell me his brother hand passed. It was wonderful to have the song No Longer Slaves sung at his service.

    “No Longer Slaves”

    You unravel me with a melody
    You surround me with a song
    Of deliverance from my enemies
    ‘Til all my fears are gone

    I’m no longer a slave to fear
    I am a child of God

    From my mother’s womb
    You have chosen me
    Love has called my name
    I’ve been born again into your family
    Your blood flows through my veins

    I’m no longer a slave to fear
    I am a child of God

    I am surrounded
    By the arms of the father
    I am surrounded
    By songs of deliverance

    We’ve been liberated
    From our bondage
    We’re the sons and the daughters
    Let us sing our freedom

    You split the sea
    So I could walk right through it
    My fears were drowned in perfect love
    You rescued me
    And I will stand and sing
    I am a child of God.

    Yes, I am
    I am a child of God
    I am a child of God
    Yes, I am
    I am a child of God
    Full of faith
    Yes, I am a child of God
    I am a child of God

    I’m no longer a slave to fear
    I am a child of God

    Janet Mentgen, beloved founder of Healing Touch, encouraged all Healing Touch students and practitioners to “Just do the work!” Her personal goal was to have each human on earth bring light with every step that we walk. What gift. We can just follow the energy. We do not have to worry that we are doing it wrong. Hallelujah!

    I am so honored to have spent these two days with my friend Norleen and these other brave women. May all be no longer slaves to fear….

  • Shadow Work

    Just as we now have a new address, so my brother-in-love, Jim, also has a new address. Jim was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer this past November. Although a very difficult time, he and his family found gifts tucked inside the days. He passed from this life today about 5:00 am.

    I am choosing to hold on to what I know to be real: within every experience I have the opportunity to learn love. This is brought home by a very stressful interaction with our granddaughter who is here visiting. You could say she is 18 going on 40, if you know what I mean.
    I remember the day her mom and grandpa and I were riding with her soon after she got her driving permit. As we came into the subdivision the back way she was not quite up on two wheels, but she was for sure going way too fast. “Slow down!” yelled her mom.

    “I know what I am doing!” she shot back.

    “You are going way too fast,” her grandpa added.

    In a voice sounding more calm than my innards felt I said simply the truth, “Between your mom and your grandpa and me we have about 120 years of driving experience. You may not be mature enough to admit it but we are a better judge of your driving right now than you are.”

    Last night she stepped way over our boundary when she came in at 3:00 am. I do not know where she really was all that time or what she was doing but I do know that her “attitude” is a pattern of behavior she has played out with her mom many times before.

    We miss seeing what is obvious to others because that is the nature of shadow work.

    My brother-in-love was changed dramatically during this journey with cancer. He learned to laugh easily and he helped others do the same. Just last Sunday when he asked his wife for nail scissors she cautioned him to be careful with them. He has been very shaky. He took the scissors and then feigned a dangerously shaky hand before their eyes met and they both giggled.

    My granddaughter and her mom and I may not be ready to tease and laugh easily about our parts in all of this but we will all feel better as we can.

    William Arthur Ward said to make mistakes is human; to stumble is commonplace; and to be able to laugh at yourself is maturity.

    My granddaughter is only 18. My brother-in-law was past 70. We have time….

  • We Are Moved!

    I have had some long days and short nights the past couple of weeks, but we are moved! Here is my poem about all of that I wrote for the last Pine Island Poetry group:

    A Week’s Lifetime
    I. I’ve slept in my bed in this house the last Sunday of my life. The scent of long-past passion still lingers in my nose. The waterbed gave way to a California mattress. The headboard frame with the drawers underneath replaced by a rich Cherry poster bed that stands tall enough I can store the massage table underneath.
    II. This is the last Monday morning I will wake up in this house. Approximately 83,216 Monday mornings I’ve sat here looking east. Thousands of times I’ve watched the shadows grow long, had the sun in my eyes, and marveled at the rain pelting the window.
    III. More than two decades of pulling out of the driveway on Tuesday mornings heading to Still Waters. Sitting in the grapevine rocking chair in front of the sliding glass door looking at the majestic oak tree. Remembering that day I realized one of the women in the library was someone I had carried a deep grudge against, Forgiveness was unnecessary as the truth of how perfectly her role orchestrated divine will in my life set my heart free.
    IV. Working in Kalamazoo on Wednesdays, traveling enough to always keep my makeup bag packed, finding it easier to live out of my overnight bag than to realize some culturally-demanded essential was where I wasn’t. Years of driving into the sun on the way over Wednesday mornings and driving into the sun on the way back Thursday evenings.
    V. So many trips to Tennessee, watching grandkids grow up, remembering moments and milestones and many miles. We always left on Thursdays. Brad is married now, almost a year. Adam is a firefighter. My thoughts were also of Adam as I watched the first responders last Friday morning trying desperately to give my new neighbor one more day or week or month or year. Quite forgetful, she would introduce herself to me every time I stopped in at the new house. “I’m Katey,’ she would say, “I’ve lived here 33 years. It’s the best place I’ve ever lived. You’re going to love it here….” Adam arrived the day we moved in. Granddaughter, Courtney, will be here on Friday.
    VI. Friday night used to be date night. We would have the house all to ourselves. We’d make love in front of the fireplace, dozing off afterwards. I remember once having an ear print on the inside of my thigh. The nostalgia of leaving this house is not just about brick and mortar or years gone by. Moving makes us remember what really matters. We buried Spanky here. So many times I felt the weight of that cat on my chest long after his ashes were way out back.
    VII. Saturday morning Jehovah’s Witness visits, regular until the day John said, “Oh, yes, we are believers. My wife is an interfaith minister….” It’s funny how ritualistic our lives can become. Weeks and years and decades look so much like their predecessors, yet nothing truly remains the same. Next Monday morning I will wake up in my same bed, between my favorite bamboo sheets, having listened to 2002 Land of Forever. While my bed won’t be at 4230 Lincoln, part of my history will be.
    VIII. It’s a new beginning at 1153 West Glenlord Road, Lot 84…
    Debra Basham 7/24/17 (WC 544)

    This week I held baby Iris for the first time, stained and varnished a desktop, made my first risotto, and it absolutely amazes me that I can feel right at home somewhere other than where I felt right at home for the past 40 years. I trust that means this is the next right step….

  • Precognition

    Sacred Stories

    She took some time to clean out the inbox filled with hundreds of email messages. As she emptied the inbox into the trash she remembered a message she had seen about how the view of ourselves at age 16 can carry into adulthood. She had not taken time to read it, but was interested, so she began searching through the trash. She could not find it.

    The following morning, the article arrived from the same friend she had thought she received it from the day before.

    She sent an email message to her friend, “I ‘think’ you sent this yesterday. When I cleaned out my inbox, I lost it before reading it. Now it is here today. Did you really send it yesterday and today?”

    “I sent it only today. It was online this morning….” was the reply.

    These are sacred stories. Pay attention to happenings in your life. Do you have a story to share? Send email to debra@scs-matters.com.

  • Yoga Space

    Sacred Stories

    Looking through some journal entries from a few years ago, she came across this one:

    I want to create a space for yoga. It has good light and good energy.

    She had given conscious thought to that entry since she wrote those words toward the end of 2013 or early in 2014. Here it is, mid 2017 and she finds the entry.

    She brought the journal with her to her yoga class she was teaching in a sweet, intimate, well-lit, wonderful feeling space. She had begun teaching there one year ago. Her story reminds us how powerful our intentions really are….

    These are sacred stories. Do you have as story to share? Send email to debra@scs-matters.com.