Sarah Palin's Got Nothing On Me

I promise I'm not going political on you (I'm saving that for next week). I just want to point out that although Sarah Palin may handle five kids, the governorship of Alaska, and running for VP, I, like Joe the Plumber, can handle a certain kind of emergency.  

I've earned the right to sing, "I am woman, hear me roar." Even Hank agreed to me crooning it for much of yesterday afternoon. 

It all started approximately sixty seconds after he left to pick up Shay from Sunday School.  Of course.

I was enjoying a rare moment in the kitchen. I was cooking, or rather trying to, when I heard, "Uh-oh, Mom - problem. Uh-oh."

These are not the words a mother wants to hear.

"Uh-oh, Dad - problem. Uh-oh" would've been fine. I could have kept cooking the millet salad I'd been trying to make. Turn water on to boil. Turn water off. It was beginning to look like a really bad remake of "The Karate Kid" - "The Karate Mom" - stove on, stove off, stove on, stove off. Stuff just kept coming up (ouch, really bad and unintentional pun).

A worried looking child emerged from the bathroom (for the sake of his privacy, I won't mention his name). 

Said child informed me that the toilet was overflowing.

What poor timing - an overflowing toilet and Hank wouldn't be back for an hour. Oh, no - what's a woman to do?

Much to my shock, right after I realized that it would be a bear to get a plumber on a Sunday morning and that unspeakably gross water was flooding the floor, I also realized that I knew that the little knob near the floor would turn off the water to the toilet. How did I know this? Me, who firmly believes that feminism be damned, the man of the house should deal with plumbing disasters. I guess we do know more than we think we know.

Gingerly reaching in to the bathroom and grateful for my Yoga practice which helps my balance and flexibility, I was able to reach the knob and to my delight, the water did in fact stop! Perhaps I've created a new Yoga asana - the Plumber's Stretch - balance on one foot, reach out toward floor with right hand, stay mindful and pray you don't fall into the muck. 

Not one to indulge in false modesty, having succeeded in stopping the flow, I gave myself credit for being a genius. A brave genius for I approached what must be a plague-inducing amount of germs with.....okay, the undeniable realization that it would be cruel and unloving to make my child deal with this himself. And the even stronger realization that should I leave the cleaning to my child, I'd never be able to use that bathroom again, and would most likely have to move out of the house. Which would cause our financial ruin because I'd feel morally obliged to tell potential home buyers why we were moving. "No, we're not relocating and we haven't gone bust like the stock market. We're moving because the toilet overflowed and my teenage son cleaned the bathroom, so you can only imagine...." Also, if I didn't handle this myself, I'd probably feel obliged to call the EPA and have the bathroom officially declared a toxic waste site (and since my kids' bathroom has already been so declared, perhaps the government would...what? send guys dressed in white hazmat suits to clean it for me? That would be nice but no, with the budget deficit and all, I knew I was on my own here. The government probably can't even afford to lend me a hazmat suit).

I suggested to said child that he get paper towels to sop up the water on the floor. Unfortunately, this is my relaxed child and a minute later I noticed that he was in rapt concentration, ripping each square perfectly before gingerly placing the paper towels on the floor. 

"No, no, no!" I cried. "Get as many kitchen towels as you can find!" That was my first mistake (or maybe my second - perhaps the first was buying a home). My kitchen towels? Why not the rag towels from the basement that I could burn after they soaked up the mess? Or toss? Or carry out of the house at the end of a very long pole. But I said "kitchen towels" and so they were used.

I got a laundry basket, lined it with a garbage bag because there were only so many household items I wanted to hate once this was all over. I sopped up the mess. Mopped the floor. Plunged the toilet. Washed the bathroom. Felt proud. Felt just like I did after running the NYC Marathon the first time (no, not totally exhausted but that if I could do this I could do anything).

When the last of the cleaning was underway, Hank came home. Of course. I was already singing Helen Reddy. 

Hank put the laundry in - you remember, my beloved kitchen towels? - on cold. On one rinse. My elation evaporated. Hey! Who was this dude to walk in in the eleventh hour and start taking over - doing things the wrong way, no less. Didn't he realize the wash water needed to be boiled? And that it would take five or six rinse cycles to prove to me I wouldn't get amoebic dysentery from touching one of those towels. Or that I had to leave for the afternoon in a half hour and needed some water to boil myself in, too?  No matter. We got it straightened out.

And then Hank walked into the kitchen. And found the garbage disposal was clogged. And needed to be plunged. Plunged? Plunged? As in with the gross plunger? The same one I'd just used - in a toilet? Now to be used on my kitchen sink?  It was too much for me. I had to leave the house. 

I've been reading about India lately. There are many open sewers there. They overflow during the monsoons. People have no choice but to walk through the overflow. They survive. 

I will survive. Excuse me, I feel a song coming on...no, not Helen Reddy, I feel a Gloria Gaynor moment coming on, "I will survive!"

 

Energy Medicine 101

Little did I know when I became interested in energy medicine (aka energy healing or energy work) that I was already doing it. You may be, too - even if you think you're very mainstream in your approach to medicine. My Yoga and meditation practices are forms of energy work. That's not surprising. So are chiropractic and massage. You're probably still not surprised. How about this though - according to the National Institutes of Health's National Center for Complementary and Alternative Medicine, MRIs, cardiac pacemakers, and radiation therapy all fall under the heading of energy medicine (http://nccam.nih.gov/health/backgrounds/energymed.htm)! 

The NCCAM divide energy medicine into two categories: veritable and putative. Methods that fall under the veritable category use mechanical vibrations (sounds) and electromagnetic forces (light, magnetism, and radiation such as laser beams). They use specific, measurable wavelengths and frequencies in their treatments. It is the ability to measure them using conventional instrumentation that earns them the rank of "veritable".

Putative methods, on the other hand, employ the use of techniques that are thus far unmeasurable by reproducible methods. Putative fields are often called biofields. These treatments are based on the theory that we have subtle forms of energy within and around us. You may hear this energetic life-force referred to as qi (in traditional Chinese medicine), ki (Japanese Kampo), prana or dosha (Indian Aryuvedic), or even homeopathic resonance (which is Western). There are other names as well, but I think those are the most common. Believers feel that a vital energy flows through the material body. However, as stated, this subtle energy has thus far eluded measurement using standard instrumentation. Some common putative methods are Reiki, Healing Touch, Theraputic Touch, Traditional Chinese Medicine, homeopathy, prayer, and Donna Eden's Energy Medicine (which I tried on Sunday - see previous post). Less common is Energy Mirrors which I tried a few weeks ago.

I believe that in our lifetimes many forms of energy medicine will continue to gain wider acceptance. More and more medical studies are showing the efficacy of Yoga to reduce such common issues as high blood pressure. Some health insurance plans even cover the cost of Yoga classes for subscribers. I even believe that as our understanding of physics shows more clearly that matter is just concentrated energy and that dark matter and other forms of energy move through our bodies constantly, the methods that are now putative may end up on the veritable side of the energy medicine equation.

Right Place, Right Time

Sunday started out perfectly. I slept until 9:45, which in this house, is the equivalent of sleeping until noon. Had Shay not been in Boston for the weekend I'm sure I wouldn't have done so. It's impossible for that boy to get through that much morning without either playing his electric guitar or pounding on the druns. 

I obviously needed the rest because just the day before, I'd had a venti latte after lunch (I never super-size anything just because the sales person suggests it or because it's a deal, but when the barista asked if I wanted a venti for just thirty cents more than a grande, I was shocked to hear myself say, "Sure." I knew I was tired, not just for drinking the amount of coffee I usually make fun of, but because I proceeded to go home and fall fast asleep. I never, ever nap on a Saturday!

I was happy to have a morning that had only occured rarely in the past twenty-one years since I married a confirmed early bird. In the early days of our marriage, I'd awaken at ten on Saturday mornings to the sounds of "PeeWee's  Playhouse" - by then Hank would have been up for four hours or more and would have grown bored without company - he'd claim that sleeping until ten was as good as sleeping until noon. I never got his logic, but then again he's never understood how I can love sleep so much and I've never understood how he can stand to stay so busy. But I digress.

It was (obviously) a quick morning and then time to take Kit to her Wind Orchestra rehearsal in Albany. After dropping her off, I took myself out for lunch (after sleeping in, the only civilized way to proceed with the day was to keep treating myself well). After lunch, I decided to shop at the Coop (after pampering myself thus far, cooking dinner would have been a travesty, so I wanted to pick up some of their excellent freshly prepared food). Driving there I remembered that this was the day that a practitioner of Donna Eden's Energy Medicine was conducting free half-hour sessions. I'd thought about signing up for one, but the last time I was at the Coop, I didn't know what my schedule would bring. Or really what a free session would entail. It seemed a shame to not pull it together to register, especially since I'm planning on taking a weekend class with Eden at Kripalu in January, but that's the story of my life: although I was interested, I'd let it go.

As I pushed my cart over to the meat freezer, I passed the community room and looked in. A woman looked out and smiled. I smiled back, continued on and grabbed a pound of grass-fed beef so I could make a meatloaf for Hank and Shay (one of these days when I'm actually cooking). A moment later I heard an announcement, "Anyone interested in a free half-hour Energy Medicine consultation, we have one available this afternoon in the community room, starting....now!"

I looked around. Here I was. Outside the community room. No one else was breaking down the door or even standing nearby. Along came the woman who'd smiled at me. I needed no introduction.

And even I know when I'm standing at the right place at the right time. Even I know when I'm meant to act.

"I'm interested," I said.

"Come on in," the woman replied.

Ruth Ann Smalley conducted the session. Donna Eden's method (which she uses) employs energy testing to find what you need. Basically, this entails holding out your arm and having it gently pressed on. When your energy is strong, your arm stays pretty much in place. When your energy is weak, your arm goes down somewhat. This is often demonstrated by someone pressing your arm as you say "My name is....." with your own name - your arm stays in place. Repeat the first part of the sentence with someone else's name, your arm will go down more. 

After explaining a few basic concepts of Energy Medicine, Ruth Ann did some testing. My energy was the same walking forward or walking backwards. I thought this would be a good thing. It isn't according to Eden. Your energy should be stronger going forward (maybe that's why I get nothing done!) Also, my aura was very weak (darn - I'd always been curious about it and hoped I'd have one of those funky psychedelic auras). 

Ruth Ann gave me some exercises to do - thumping below my collar bone and rubbing the inside of my feet, above the heel bones, both to stimulate energy flow for my kidneys and a short routine which looks rather Tai Chi-ish to boost my aura.

The session was gentle, non-invasive and fun. 

Next time, I'll get to more of the principles of energy medicine according to Donna Eden.

Goodbye for now - it's Monday and I've run out of excuses for staying out of the kitchen...

Time is...

I am a few hours into a "day off". Hank and the kids went to NYC to visit Hank's parents. I have the whole day to myself. My only real responsibility (and the reason I stayed behind) is to walk the dog. So, why did I feel so stressed out this morning?

Time. Too little of it. Too much to do with it. Instead of seeing the wonderful hours to fill as I see fit (which I saw only yesterday), I saw to-do lists. Housecleaning, emails piled up, phone calls to make, shopping to be done, etc. I realized that there was no way I had the time, the discipline, or the energy to get through it all. Tomorrow would come too quickly with all its plans and responsibilities and I'd have lost my chance. 

So, I did what any self-respecting sloth would do.  Played too much Spider Solitaire, under the guise of, "It's early, it's Sunday, and I'm not quite awake." Then I went upstairs to do my morning routine and found between the pages of a pink-covered book exactly what I needed.

The book is Sarah Ban Breathnach's "Simple Abundance:A Daybook of Comfort and Joy". I think I first bought this book more than ten years ago. Back then, I couldn't get into it and after it sat on my shelf for a while, I gave it away. But the expression goes, "When the student is ready, the teacher appears" and so last month, I heard Oprah interview Breathnach (you can get it at Oprah.com's Spirit Channel) and decided to give the book another try.  If you've heard of Oprah's practice of keeping a gratitude journal, this is the book that inspired that. The daybook has a reading for each day of the year. Today's is entitled, "A Tale of Two Times."  In it she quotes poet Henry Van Dyke, "Time is/Too slow for those who Wait/Too swift for those who Fear/Too long for those who Grieve/Too short for those who Rejoice..." We all know how fickle time is - Harry and Kit found it unbearably long last year in Algebra class, vacations are always too short, their train ride today will be too long.

Breathnach goes on to explain the ancient Greek idea of time's dual nature; chronos and kairos. Chronos is the aspect of time that most of us live with most of the time - and the aspect of time I felt pressing on me this morning. It's deadlines, dropping the kids off and picking them up on time, the alarm clock ringing, the dog barking for dinner, trying to get it all done. Kairos, on the other hand, is infinite time, flow, passion, love, joy.  We live in chronos but we wish for kairos. Again, from Breathnach, "Chronos requires speed so that it won't be wasted. Kairos requires space so that it might be savored." Chronos is doing, kairos is being.

Needless to say, this was the reading I needed just then. I continued on my morning routine, folding the laundry (after the ecstasy, the laundry), doing my Yoga, meditating. And that's how I got to my moment of kairos. Interestingly, I've noticed that when I get to that still, peaceful, and joyful kairotic place when meditating, I don't need to stay there long. I think there's a good reason for this - the nature of kairos is infinite. Although it has to do with time, by its very nature, it has to do with the timelessness of time. So, a few minutes of it or many seems to be all the same. 

The end of Van Dyke's poem is, "But for those who love, time is eternity." Which is why when we are totally absorbed doing something we love, time seems to stop, we are unaware of its passage. I get there through writing, gardening, singing loudly as I drive. You, no doubt, have other ways. Whatever they are, I believe that no matter how busy we are in chronos, in order to live a full and happy live, we have got to make time to get to kairos.

Miracles

I find many things miraculous: t.v.; internet; airplanes; big trees that grow from small seeds; reproduction; the cyclical nature and delicate balance of our physical world and that it can sustain so many injuries still persist; that someone came up with a recipe for candied bacon ice-cream (www.davidliebovitz.com); that my dog is still loved even though he's such a rascal.  The list goes on and on.

I know that many would argue that none of the above are miracles: indeed, there are explanations for how each work (except perhaps the bacon Ice-cream).  Maybe, but I'm not convinced. I've read descriptions of how television works: it's still a mystery, and therefore a miracle, to me. All these pixels being sent through cable lines or the airwaves and then rearranging themselves in just the right places on our screens. If you get it, my hat's off to you - I'm sticking with the theory that it's a miracle.

There are big miracles and small miracles. That I get dinner on the table most nights regardless of my dog's attempts to snatch it as I'm cooking: small miracle. That I gave birth to Harry after years of infertility and knowing all that could and did go "wrong" to keep me from conceiving, and then suddenly did, big miracle. Seeing Harry's heartbeat when he was an embryo, just a few days old - very big miracle. That he's now 6'2" and driving, ah, you get the idea. 

I don't mean to be flip: I really do think of all these as miracles. Albert Einstein said, "There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." When I first told Harry this, he was confused: "Which way was right?" he wondered. Upon reflection, I understood his confusion, especially living in this culture, with its emphasis on science. But I am firmly, and more than ever, living as though everything is a miracle. Even with scientific explanations, I think (as did Einstein), that if you keep digging deeper, you get to some very unanswerable questions. Furthermore, I never really "got" science until I realized that all it really does is report observations of "what is" - the ultimate "why" and "how" never really gets answered.  

BTW, Einstein, when asked to describe radio said this, "You see, wire telegraph is a kind of a very, very long cat. You pull his tail in New York and his head is meowing in Los Angeles. Do you understand this? And radio operates exactly the same way: you send signals here, they receive them there. The only difference is there is no cat."

So, this is yet another long and circuitous way for me to get to my point: Kit and I both had Energy Mirrors sessions this week (it's a form of energy healing). So, this begs the question, why would I consider this as a medical option? It's based on a healer, essentially in an altered state of consciousness, reading your energy field and mirroring it back at you to reorganize your energy field and create healing. Yup, I'd say it's way out there (and I no longer care about that). Why this technique, with this healer?  I dunno. I met Michele last week and after months of reading and thinking about energy healing, but never in that time hearing about Energy Mirrors, I just had a feeling that this was the technique I wanted to try. And that Michele was a good person to try it with. Kit was game.

I had my session on Monday. I told Michele my maladies: sore neck, sore foot, kidneys, cough. I lay back on her reclining chair, covered myself with a blanket, and closed my eyes. At times I felt like a swirl of energy was around my face, or I had heightened sensation in my foot or neck. About an hour later, she cleared her throat. I opened my eyes. "I'm getting that you should come back in five weeks," she said. "And your kidneys are functioning fine. Don't worry about them." That's all she said (well, there was more - we chatted for almost another hour, but none of it related to the session). Michele doesn't like to say too much about it - it's in the realm of energy, not thought.  I'm fine with that. And darned if my neck pain (which I've had for over a year and a half isn't mostly gone - 90% I'd say. My foot's probably 80% or more better (after a month of pain). The cough? Hmm, I think I'm coughing less - I'm certainly noticing it less.  Interestingly, I told Michele about my kidney diagnosis (nephrocalcinosis/hypercalciurea), but not that my kidney function has always been fine.

One more thing, and I don't know if it's related (although many say there are no coincidences, and if that's so, it is). As I was waiting for my appointment, I was looking through the notebook that I keep my medical information in. I came upon the name of a doctor whom I had heard speak on NPR a few years ago. He's a nephrologist in Massachusetts and I was impressed. I'd asked the nephrologist I see in Rochester if he knew of him, thinking if he gave him the thumbs up, I'd switch and save myself the long drive to Rochester each year. He hadn't and I kept trucking out west each fall. This year, my appointment is on a day that I hate to miss (Rensselaer County Cross Country meet, my nephew is coming to visit, the day before Shay goes to Boston for a Bar Mitzvah so he'll need help packing). I really, really don't want to go to Rochester and although I've called a number of times to see if I can change it, there are no appointments until January (and there's only one thing worse than driving from Albany to Rochester and that's doing it in January, when the days are shortest and the weather the worst). In any event, hmm, the name of this doctor written in my notebook rang a bell this time, and the bell it rang was the Kripalu Yoga Center. Turns out he's the medical director there. And will be happy to see me. Why do I think this fits so nicely with this energy healing session? First of all, I think time is squishier and less linear than we believe. I'd have to go through more quantum physics (and my friend Einstein's theories) than I'm prepared to right now to make that case, so I won't. Gentle reader, I don't expect you to take my word for it - but, like the rest of this blog, it's what I believe at this squishy moment of time. So, now I'll have a new doctor - a holistic nephrologist which is outrageously cool as I'm no longer interested in pursuing healthcare based on illness. Now I'm interested in healthcare based on wellness. Doctors don't really know why one person heals and another doesn't and I can write reams on this, but I've kept you here long enough. Suffice to say, that I think there's more we don't know than what we do and I refuse to limit my healthcare to only the commonly known variables.

Kit's work was more to see if she's back on the right track, energy-wise, after her health challenges of the last few months. Michele believes she is. Interestingly, before starting, to show us how the technique works, Michele did some work aloud so we'd be familiar with the process. She came up with, "Kit needs space." "Hah!" I thought, "I could've told her that!" as that's been the theme of Kit's life for months now: "Mom, can I ride my bike alone?" "Mom, can I take Mobley on a really long walk?" Not to mention the very nasty looks I get from my incredibly sweet daughter whenever I stick my nose where it doesn't belong (in her business). "Resonable guess? She's fourteen," you think. I don't think so. I wouldn't pick that phrase for either Harry or Shay at this point although they're also in those teen years.

One last thought (I think). The way I look at life these days is this: my perception is limited. I can only see what I see based on where I am and where I'm looking. I have to change my perception to see more or differently. If I carry a solely scientific perception, I can only see what science has to offer. And century by century (or decade by decade  or even year by year now), as science changes, what we believe changes. So, I am open to energy healing because I just don't believe that we know all we'll ever know about this. 

It's all a miracle. I don't know how it works. I don't even care. I can turn my head without pain for the first time in months, I can walk the dog without hobbling and this is good. Very good. I'll send you off with a question though, one Shay used to ask when he was a toddler. If you know the answer, please let me know - as after all these years, it still has me stumped:

"Where do boo-boos go when they go away? Do they go to Grandpa's car? Do they go into the woods?"

It's a mystery to me.

Iodine

A quick note today, curtesy of Kit and Dr. Perry's high school chemistry class:

Iodine readily sublimes.

I love it.  If you seem me and I greet you with that it's because it's the greatest line I've ever heard.

And, apologize for this, but...

I think it's sublime.

(Why was Chem. never this much fun when I was in high school?)

Smacked Upside the Head

First of all - I'm warning you. This may seem to some, like a post where I go way out there, you know, into La-La Land. So, if you're not interested or will think I've gone off the deep end if you read this one, I direct to my Sept. 29 post, "Mobley's Ticker Tape Parade" - it's fun, light, and totally of the material world.  

But, if you're up to join me in my wanderings through other places where the land between your feet may seem to shift ever so slightly, come on along!

This story starts two days ago at Kit's endocrinologist's office. To recap: she'd lost weight, too much weight over the spring and summer. Why? Good question. Possibly for no other reason than she's a fourteen year old girl living in a culture where food and weight are complicated issues. But still, when her body crashed in August, we needed to find out more. This resulted in an amazing amount of medical tests, almost all of which came back normal.

Fortunately, Kit quickly regained her strength, health, and is back in the normal range for weight. However, her thyroid and pituitary tests were low, and although these can be accounted for by the weight loss, of course, we followed up. Which was why we were back at the doctor's office.

I was sure Shimon, the physician assistant, would be happy to see the transformation in Kit since he'd last examined her exactly a month before. At that time she looked her absolute worst (sorry, Kit): she was rail thin then and had come directly from a sleepover, where, predictably, little sleeping had been done. The girls had been making a horror film (available on Youtube) in the middle of the night. Kit's character was supposed to fall through a doorway. Kit, doing more realism than acting, actually fell - onto a concrete floor. We learned that when you look like you can barely stand on your own and can barely keep your eyes open, that doctors are going to be very concerned about a gash on your chin - both Shimon and the doctor assumed she'd collapsed. Just a month later, Kit is ten pounds heavier, her color is back, and aside from a small scar, her chin is healed. Her blood test results are also pretty good and Shimon proclaimed that she doesn't have an endocrine problem. 

Of course, this was good news and I was ready to leave. It was too late for our usual after-doctor's appointment trip to Starbucks to get Kit a frappachino so she could return to school caffeine-crazed to the great entertainment of her friends (and annoyance of her teachers?), but still, we'd have time for some mother-daughter bonding before the boys got home. I was looking forward to it. Then Shimon went through a list of follow-ups that he and the doctor were suggesting, that could have made my hair curl (had it not already been so): GI series, uterine ultrasound, eating disorder evaluation.  

"Wait a second!" my brain screamed. I'm sitting here with a kid who's the picture of health! Yes, she was sick this summer - but she recovered quickly and hasn't been sick since. Aside from a few months, she's always been a wonderful eater - enjoying a wide variety of mostly healthy foods. She could have Crohn's Disease or an eating disorder that's in remission, warned Shimon. She could. She could also have.....well, I don't know or want to think about what else, but surely, my mind screamed, I'm not having her tested for all possibilities. And that's all these diseases were: possibilities.

I'm careful when it comes to my kids' health. Their pediatrician is careful and conservative, too, and I love her for that. But this time, my mind balked at further testing. I'd been in a great mood for days, feeling peaceful, blissful - my meditation practice was going well, I was back to doing Yoga postures, my writing was going well, I'd even mopped the floor. By the middle of the appointment, I felt myself being sucked down into a vortex of gloom. And there I stayed for the rest of the day, unable to tap into the joy I'd felt such a short time before. I was so jubilant earlier in the day, that I'd contemplated the wastefulness of dark moods - everything seemed so perfect that I was sure that this time, I could keep the feeling going.  Hah! 

On to yesterday (I apologize, this is a longer story than I'd realized). Yesterday was Rosh Hashanah and I'd agreed to take the kids to the synagogue for services. At this point in my life, I didn't really feel the need to be there for myself. Having a daily meditation and contemplation practice, I feel I tap into the idea of trying to be my best self on a daily basis now, and doing so once a year feels artificial. I'd rushed the kids and myself in the morning to be at the synagogue on time - last year we'd arrived late and sat downstairs where we watched the service over a television projection. I'd felt very cut-off from the actual service that was going on in the sanctuary upstairs. I felt like it was worth the rush to be upstairs in the beautiful, high ceilinged, airy worship space rather than downstairs watching a blurry screen in a dank, dark room.

As we sat through services, I struggled. First of all, I felt like I was being bombarded by germs. The rabbi had a cold, the friend I sat next to had a cold, and I felt like there were sick people all around me. (Harry later told me that the man sitting behind him coughed on his neck a few times.) I've been trying to follow Dr. Wayne W. Dyer's advise to not pay any heed to germs so as not to manifest illness and found I was struggling to do so. I struggled with the service: the music, which I usually love, sounded so low-vibrational. Again, following Wayne Dyer, I've been trying to up my vibrations to tap into higher frequencies, which are believed to be more creative and to help manifest what you want into your life. I have to admit, I have no idea what I'm doing and if I'm practicing this correctly. For all I know, those minor-key Jewish melodies may actually have very high frequencies, but they didn't feel that way to me. Being in the service, I felt like I was surrounded with exactly the opposite of what I need. And I struggled over whether or not to follow-up with any of the things that Shimon suggested. And whether I was a bad mother or not if I didn't. And whether people would think me irresponsible if I didn't. And whether I should be concerned with other's opinions of me. And knowing that to walk this path, I can't be.  I also struggled with the idea that I seemed unable to take anything from this morning, other than being a good chauffeur for the kids. Although there were some peaceful moments where I was able to relax into my thoughts and mantra, mostly I struggled. On and on and on it went, for two hours, until finally, it was time for Shay and me to help set up lunch. Thank God.

I felt more relaxed as soon as I left the service and went downstairs to the kitchen. I got busy putting bagels in baskets, seltzers on the table, and a bunch of other small tasks. We were done in a half hour, at which point I went to the dreaded downstairs temporary sanctuary to watch the service on the television screen - and found it was very pleasant! The sun had come out, and I had a good view into the courtyard where we'd set up the luncheon. The courtyard looked welcoming and peaceful. A cool breeze blew across me. There were not too many worshippers down here - we had elbow room - no one seemed to be oozing germs, and it felt relaxed and relaxing. I stayed to listen to the shofar, watched some small children leave with their parents, and decided I'd had enough. I also realized I was parched.

So back to the kitchen I went, grabbing some juice along the way. I was so thirsty, I kept filling and refilling my cup with water and drinking it down. I was shocked at how thirsty I was - I felt like I was trying to wash my insides clean with this need for water. Presently, another woman, a bit older than myself I'd guess, who'd helped set up the lunch came in. We started talking. She told me about her plans to renovate her kitchen and the other renovations she'd done on her house since moving in five years ago.  We chatted about this for quite a while. Then she mentioned that she's a physical therapist and works from home, and since she does she can work nights and weekends. I mentioned how nice that must be for her clients. And then she said that it is, but she finds it too tiring to do p.t. at night, so that's when she does her distance healing.

BAM!

Say what?

Distance healing?

Huh.

It was like I was smacked upside the head.

To keep a long story shorter than it could be, we talked about that. And the variety of healing work she does: cranial sacral therapy, energy mirrors and such. I'd been playing around with the idea of trying Reiki for a long time but had yet to act on it.  I now had a feeling that I'd now found a good person to try energy healing with and other types of healing to try.

So, why all the fuss about Kit at the beginning of this post?  Because she's going to go to Michelle, too, so that Michelle can balance her energies, too. As soon as Michelle suggested she could work on Kit, the dark mass that had been clouding my brain vanished. I knew then how I felt about all these medical procedures: that at this point all they could do was stress us out. I know Kit's healthy now: that's evident by the glow being back in her skin, her renewed energy, and yes, her appetite. Might she need some of those tests at some point in her life? Of course, she might. Anything is possible. Anything is always possible. But for now, I have a healthy kid here and I'm not going to pull her out of school and out of her life for unnecessary tests.

After talking to Michelle, I knew what I was doing at the synagogue yesterday. Meeting her. Opening up to another new experience. Finding an alternative for Kit.

Last take: we decided to skip the luncheon. I walked out of the synagogue and saw, walking down the sidewalk, Rachelle, a member of the congregation whom I had last seen at the Albany airport the day we flew to Vancouver. Waiting for our plane, I'd shown Rachelle photos of Kit's shoes. I'd since forgotten. She saw me and said, "You're just who I was looking for?" "I am?" I replied. "I want Kit to decorate my shoes," she said, "They're in my car." Just the day before I'd realized that for the first time in months, Kit had no shoe commissions to work on. She does now. So, I guess I was really at the synagogue for two purposes: to meet Michelle and to help Kit get a commission from Rachelle!