The Grandmother comes as soon as I close my eyes. There is no “when” other than this shell that she is holding, Conch? I wonder. Abalone, oyster? No response. Wrong question. She stands on the beach, tangy green wavelets surge … Continue reading →
Grandmother. I hold my morning coffee and call for her, quiet voice in my head. Grandmother. She comes. She’s sitting today on my right, crouching, actually, a favorite posture of hers. A cigarette dangles from incredibly calloused fingers, they are … Continue reading →
Drifting in a sea of fatigue, like flotsam washed on the beach, I rested on the acupuncture table, my personal chemotherapy low tide. The Grandmother stood at my feet holding a wing of a large red parrot with yellow epaulets. She waved the wing down the length of my entire body, gently brushing away the disease that the chemotherapy released from my body. Then she stroked upward with the red wing, using it to draw energy up from the Earth, through the soles of my feet, into my chemically burned body.
This was the first impression I had that the cancer was losing its grip.
I was a slow learner. Although immobilized on the acupuncture table, I felt restless and frustrated, certain that my Internal Healer could help me, yet not understanding my vision. She stood motionless in a ring, or a hub, of light. For three weeks. Continue reading →