Gratitude

With Thanksgiving occurring this week, I found myself thinking a lot about what I was grateful for. Surprisingly, the day I was able to most easily tap into my gratitude was Monday, when I was at a funeral. The mother of one of my best friends from high school passed away and I went to the service they held for her. I know it may sound kind of odd that I felt gratitude on such a sad occasion but it was a very touching experience and I have been reflecting on it all week.

I haven't seen much of my old group of girlfriends in the last twenty seven years. We were all incredibly close in high school, but we slowly drifted apart in the years that followed. Our lives just seemed to take us in different directions. When I heard about Shannon's mom passing away, there was no doubt in my mind that I needed to be at the service, that I needed to be there for her.

I was a little nervous when I first walked into the church, in part because they started with a rosary and I don't know how to do one of those . . . despite my catholic upbringing. My nervousness started to dissipate when I looked around the church and I saw that almost everyone from my old gang had also made sure they were there to lend their support to Shannon on such a difficult day. Life may have taken us in different directions, but when Shannon needed us, we were all there. I slid into a pew next to one of my old friends, Wendy, and after a quiet but heartfelt hello, we sat there respectfully observing the rosary. (Wendy, who was also raised catholic, didn't know how to do a rosary either, which made me feel a little bit better).

During the service, stories were shared about Shannon's mom and there was one story in particular that really touched me because it so accurately and so beautifully described Shannon's mom. She had the biggest heart, and the thing that I always remembered about her was that her kindness occurred without any effort. It was just who she was.

This particular story was about a time their family had gone to a local restaurant for dinner. Their waitress was doing a terrible job, moving as slow as molasses, forgetting what they had ordered, bringing the wrong things to the table, etc. Most people would have been really frustrated by the bad service and would have either complained to management or become short tempered with the waitress but not Shannon's mom.

Instead, she called the waitress over to their table and said, "Honey, are you doing alright?" The waitress's eyes immediately filled with tears and Shannon's mom asked her to sit down at their table and talk to her. The waitress said she'd get in trouble if she sat down, but Shannon's mom was not deterred. She said, "Don't worry, I'll smooth things over with your manager. It looks like you could really use some support right now." Because of the genuineness of her request, the waitress sat down and proceeded to tell Shannon's mom what was going on in her life that had her so upset and distracted. I don't even remember what that part of the story was, probably because it wasn't as important to me. I just remember being in awe as I heard of the kindness Shannon's mom showed the waitress in that moment, when most people, including me, would probably have just be irritated by the bad service.

After they had talked for a while, the waitress was able to get back to work and the service they received from that point on was wonderful . . . and not just their table, but all the tables in her section. She was able to be fully present and do her job well because someone had been present for her. Someone had reached out and let her know that they cared. Even though Shannon's mom was a stranger, her concern was so genuine, it didn't matter that they had never met before.

It's something I will always remember about Shannon's mom . . . she really payed attention to people and she genuinely cared. In the years after college, I battled with my weight quite a bit (I put on the "freshman 15" each year I was in college and I had a tough time taking the weight back off). Whenever I saw Shannon's mom, she would always notice if I had lost weight, even if it was only a few pounds, and she would encourage me to keep taking care of myself. She always "saw you" and she saw you with her heart.

This week, I have been thinking about how grateful I am that there are people like Shannon's mom in this world. She had a positive impact on everyone she came in contact with. She didn't have to "try" to care, it came to her naturally and she made a difference in this world by just being who she was. She probably touched more people's lives than she ever realized and I feel grateful that my life was one of the lives that was touched by her presence.

Following the service, there was a celebration that almost everyone from the church attended. All my old friends from high school gathered together and I couldn't help but feel tremendous comfort and joy to be seeing them all again. We laughed about old times and got caught up on the present. It didn't seem to matter how many years had gone by, we were all just so happy to be together again. At one point, Cece said she felt a little guilty that we were enjoying ourselves so much on such a somber occasion, but I knew Shannon's mom would be happy that we were connecting again and having a good time. I knew she would be pleased that we were all "seeing" one another again.

The experience on Monday helped me reconnect with what is important in life. I was reminded that it's not about the quantity of time you spend with people, but the quality of your time together . . . that it doesn't take much effort to have a truly positive impact on the people you encounter, sometimes, it's as simple as being present and "seeing" them . . . that it is as important to see with your heart as it is to see with your eyes. It also reminded me that the people you don't know are just as important as the people you do know, and that no matter how much time passes, a true friend will always be that . . . a true friend.

On a final note . . . this weekend, I felt inspired to look through some old pictures. During my walk down memory lane, I came across an interesting photo from my childhood. From this picture, it seems as though my dad *did* try to teach me how to do a rosary, although I suppose I might have been too young for the lesson to stick, given that I was only fourteen months at the time.

Even though I was very sad that Shannon's mom had to leave this earth, I am grateful that I had the honor of knowing her, and I am grateful that I had the opportunity to be reminded of the beautiful way she carried herself in this world. She is definitely serving as a role model in my life.

Honoring Butch

About a month ago, my friend Sue called me because her dog Butch had suddenly become very ill. He wouldn't eat, he was throwing up constantly and she was really worried about him. To make matters worse, Butch had diabetes and needed daily insulin shots, but if she gave him insulin on an empty stomach, he would have a seizure, so she really needed to find a way to get him to eat, or he could die from not having insulin. She asked me if I would come and give him a Reiki treatment.

Within a couple of days of my first visit with Butch, Sue's veterinarian gave her the worst news a person could receive . . . Butch had cancer that had spread throughout his entire body (the cancer was in so many places, the ultra-sound technician stopped writing down the locations he was finding it in Butch's body) and there were no treatment options. Sue was left with the devastating truth that her sweet boy was going to die and understandably, it felt like the bottom was dropping out of her world.

She wanted to make him as comfortable as possible so we started doing reiki treatments for Butch every other day. Fortunately, the reiki seemed to increase his appetite. It was pretty much guaranteed that he would eat after he got reiki, (and if he ate, then Sue was able to give him insulin), so for that reason alone, we kept up with the frequent reiki treatments.

The thing that was really interesting was that Butch would go into such a deep state of relaxation during a reiki treatment, it was as if he was going into a trance. Sue and I had both watched the video that I posted on my blog, about the wolf who went into a deep trance during energy healing sessions and we were amazed that it seemed Butch was doing the same thing. I could feel from him how much he wanted the energy, how much he wanted to feel better. It was as if he was going into another dimension during the reiki treatments. Something kept telling me I was witnessing something that was beyond my comprehension.

The first couple of weeks were pretty rocky . . . even though Butch was eating more, and was more stable because of the insulin, other strange things were occurring, like the day his back end went out on him while they were out for a walk and some days he had trouble standing up for more than a minute or so. It seemed that every day, there was something different going on, so Sue and I checked in with each other every day to talk about how he was doing. I continued to go over there every other day to give him reiki treatments. We just wanted to give him as much love and support as we could.

After about two weeks, when Sue called to give me an update, she sounded more upbeat. She said "Butch is doing really well. I am interested to see what you think when you come over here tonight." I wasn't sure what to expect but I was completely blown away when I got to her house. Butch greeted me at the door, his tail wagging so much his whole back end wagged and he was sturdier on his feet than he had been in weeks. I couldn't believe my eyes. He was acting like a dog who had never been sick a day in his life.

They invited me to stay for dinner and Butch joined us in the dining room. He ate everything that was offered to him, and when Sue's boyfriend Steve got out some blue cheese for his salad, Butch barked at him to let him know he'd like some blue cheese too. :-) And a little while later, Butch barked as Steve again, as if to say, "I'd like some more please!" (Steve wasn't about to say no, so back to the refrigerator he went) :-) I couldn't explain what we were witnessing, I didn't know what it meant. I just kept telling Sue and Steve to consider it a gift and to enjoy every moment of it.

For the next couple weeks, enjoy it they did! Butch was back to his old self, doing all the things that made them smile, like standing up in the car and sticking his head out the window, barking at passing trucks, eating everything they offered him with gusto, (even regular old dog food), protecting the yard from squirrels, etc. He even resumed one of behaviors that Sue treasured most . . . when she gave him a special treat, he would go out in the backyard and bury it. It was something he had done all his life and the ring of dirt on Butch's nose when he came back in the house always made her smile. Butch hadn't buried anything in a while, but now, he was doing it again and it was bringing her tremendous joy. They went for walks and car rides, they hung out in the backyard and listened to jazz music, they embraced the opportunity they were being given to be together as a happy family.

Last Monday, the miracle we had been witnessing came to an end. Butch was lethargic that morning and he wasn't interested in eating. By Tuesday, his back end was getting weak again. I went that night to give him a reiki treatment and as usual, he went into the deep trance and pulled a ton of energy. Afterwards, he told me that he wasn't sure he was going to be able to pull through but he wanted to try. He said he'd know by the next day if he was going to be able to do it.

When Sue and I talked the next morning, she said he was worse. She stayed home from work because she could feel Butch telling her not to leave the house. I went there that afternoon and she was right, he was getting ready to make his transition. I helped Sue and Butch talk through everything. We explained to him that a vet could come and help him if he needed help and he was ok with that, if need be. I fought back tears as I shared all the things Butch wanted Sue to know . . . that he was sorry that he couldn't fight it anymore . . . how deeply he loved her, etc.

For a while, we just sat there on the floor with him as we talked about what a beautiful gift Butch had been in her life . . . the joy he brought her (she called him her Joy Bug), the way he cared for her and protected her. Several years ago, when Sue had her own battle with cancer, Butch was there by her side to help her through it. She was often bedridden for days after a chemo treatment and Butch would lay there with her, his head resting in the crook of her neck for hours at a time, making sure she knew he was there for her.

The whole time we were talking, Butch kept looking at Sue, with a look of love and adoration that could take your breath away. I could feel how he was savoring the time he had left with the woman he loved most in the world, his mom.

Then all of the sudden, he began to stretch and as he arched his back slightly, I could tell that he was about to go. Sue and I each had a hand on his heart, as she told him how much she loved him. His heartbeat grew faint and then stopped. Just as I was thinking, "Oh god, where is Steve" we heard the door open, and Steve walked into the house. Suddenly, Butch gasped for air and his heart started beating again. We called to Steve and he was able to join us on the floor and say good bye to Butch, before his heart slowed down again and then stopped. I had never witnessed anything like it before . . . clearly Butch couldn't go without seeing Steve one more time.

It was such a deeply moving experience for me. To be there, to witness the depth of his love for his mom and dad, to see how important it was to him that he see his dad one more time, to watch him make his transition . . . it was truly an honor to be there. And at the same time, my heart ached so deeply for Sue and Steve, because I knew what dark days lay ahead for them, as the waves of grief washed over them and they tried to adjust to life without their Joy Bug.

I wish I could explain what happened, during those days where Butch seemed 100% healthy and so full of life. In our conversation before he made his transition, Butch did ask his mom to focus on those fun days, instead of how he was on his last day, so maybe it was part of his plan . . . to make sure his mom and dad had joyful memories to hold on to. For me, I felt like I witnessed a miracle, even if it only lasted a short time, it was still a miracle to me.

My Roommates Are Gone

A few weeks back, I wrote about the fact that I discovered I had a bee hive in the wall of my home, and that I had decided I was just going to enjoy my new roommates for a while. I wasn't in a hurry, because the hive was behind the shower wall in my guest bathroom and everyone I talked to said the shower surround would probably have to be torn out to get to the hive. That was a very unsettling and very expensive proposition. Remodeling the bathroom was not in my budget so I decided to just enjoy the bees . . . but my plan was thwarted a few weeks ago, when word got out in the neighborhood rat community that I had honey in my walls. The rats have one heck of a communication system because in a matter of days, it seems that every rat in San Jose was running through the walls of my house.

I spent hours on the phone, trying to find someone to patch up the rat-access points. I had a real sense of urgency now, not only because I did not want to have rats in my house, but I didn't want anything to happen to the bees, but everyone told me I needed to get the bees and honey out of there first. I turned my attention to finding a bee person and I was shocked by how many people wanted to kill the bees, claiming it was the only way to do it.

I was so thankful when I got in touch with Braulio Medina, from Smiling Bee. I knew immediately that he was the person I was going to work with. He is a 3rd generation bee keeper, who has a real love and respect for bees. Not only does he know everything there is to know about bees but he also really cares about his customers. He spent almost two hours here, trying to assess the size of the hive and figure out how he could remove it, without forcing me to re-model the shower in my guest bathroom. I got such a good feeling from him and I knew the bees and I would be in good hands.

He's been here all weekend, saving the bees and trying to remove all the honeycomb, while attempting to do all that work without making a hole in any of my walls. It's been a fascinating experience for me and I have learned a lot about bees in the last few days. Did you know that worker bees only live an average of 35-40 days . . . while a Queen can live up to five years? Braulio kind of reminds me of Cesar Milan (the Dog Whisperer). He has a calm confidence about him when he's working with the bees and the bees respond accordingly. He was kind enough to educate me about what he was doing along the way. At one point yesterday, he had me come out to see the honeycomb he had pulled out. When I asked him if that was all of it, he told me that it was only ONE QUARTER of the honeycomb. I was shocked. Those bees have been BUSY. He asked if I wanted to stay there while he found the Queen, so I could see what she looked like, but after about ten minutes of standing there, with a hundred bees flying all around us, I started to lose my "calm confidence" and decided that it would be ok if I didn't see the Queen in person, and I went back inside the house. :-)

Later, Braulio asked me if I would like to try some of the honey. I of course said, "Yes!" It was the best honey I have ever tasted. Sweet and pure. It made the store bought honey in my cupboard seem incredibly inferior. It blows me away that bees can create something so amazing, all on their own. He gave me several pieces of honeycomb and I took a picture. When he came back today to try to reach an area he couldn't access yesterday, he found even more honeycomb back there, so now it's looking like the big section of honeycomb I saw and photographed yesterday was only ONE-FIFTH of what was up there in my wall. He was so sweet, he gave me even more honeycomb today.

While it was fun having the bees around, I know they are better off where Braulio has relocated them. (They will eventually get to go to his almond farm.) I joked around with him yesterday, asking if he would ensure they got the best home, with the best accommodations. He assured me they would. :-)

One final interesting tidbit . . . when I asked him how long it would take for the bees to make that much honey, he said "About a year." It was a year ago that Lucky passed away and interestingly enough, Lucky loved eating bees. She ate hundred of them in the years we were together, so I find it oddly poetic that bees set up house in my wall about the same time she left me. I don't know if the bees just didn't want me to be lonely, or if they were getting even with me for letting her eat so many bees over the years. Not that I had much choice, she could find and eat a bee before I even noticed one was around. She was quick!

What's important to me though, is that the bees have been saved and thanks to Braulio's determination and care, I don't have any major wall repairs to contend with. Now if I can just make sure all the neighborhood rats know the "restaurant in my wall" has been closed, I'll be in good shape!

The Two Sides of Animals

Many animal communicators talk about the different sides of an animal they communicate with and they often refer to those two sides as the "personality" and the "soul." I tend to think of it more as communicating with the young part of an animal vs. their older/wiser self. Regardless, you don't have to be an animal communicator to experience these two parts of your animal. Your animal may be operating from their older/wiser self when they are trying to help you learn something they have come into your life to teach you, and they may be operating from their younger self when they act goofy, attack the toilet paper roll in the bathroom or steal food off the counter.

I had an experience recently where I got to witness the young side of an animal, and it had me laughing for days. I had gone to see Leo after he had major knee surgery, hoping the reiki would help speed up the healing process. Leo is a very happy, very active dog, who was not thrilled that his movement needed to be limited for so many weeks, so while doing reiki on his leg, his mom and I were talking about her challenge of keeping him inactive, when the last thing Leo wanted to do was sit still.

She and I were brainstorming ways she could mentally stimulate him, while still keeping him relatively quiet. I suggested taking him for car rides, so he could at least have an outing and see/smell things as they drove around. His mom told me that car rides weren't an option because Leo got too wound up and excited when they were getting into the car and that he would insist on excitedly jumping in, even when she was trying to get him to slowly, calmly get into the car. She thought it was too big of a risk.

Not one to be deterred, I began talking to Leo about it, explaining to him that if he could be more calm when they got into the car, his mom might be more willing to take him out for rides, when all of the sudden he got really fidgety. He had been laying there, very calmly receiving reiki but as soon as I started asking him if he could share in the responsibility of ensuring he didn't overdo it and injure his healing leg, he began licking his paws, trying to lick the area where his stitches were, turning his head away repeatedly, refusing to look at me. His mom and I were humored by his reaction and when we changed the subject, he became very calm again and layed down to enjoy his reiki treatment.

A few minutes later, I tried talking about it again and immediately, Leo started the same behavior . . . fidgeting, licking, refusing to look at me. Clearly, he did not want to hear what I was saying. What I was picking up from him was the equivalent of a child putting their hands over their ears and saying, "I can't hear you! I can't hear you!"

Since Leo didn't want to talk about the car rides, his mom and I went back to talking about other ways she could give him mental stimulation during these weeks of forced rest. I asked her if she would consider reading to him, as I have seen the positive effects of reading to animals before. She said she was opened to giving it a try.

The next week, I went back to see Leo again and his mom informed me that Leo did not enjoy being read to. I was surprised so I asked her what she read to him and she replied, "Muffin Mouse's New House." I could immediately sense what Leo was feeling . . . the book was WAY too juvenile for him. I teased his mom about it and explained to her that Leo would be more interested in a book that was a little deeper, a little more mature. (I felt I was communicating with his older/wiser self at this point). We had a really good laugh about "Muffin Mouse's New House" and she told him she'd find a better book to read to him.

The next week, I got an email from Leo's mom, telling me that she had read some of Wayne Dyer's "The Power Of Intention," to Leo and that he had a much better reaction. She said that he seemed very interested the whole time she was reading and interestingly enough, the chapter was about physical healing. Clearly, Leo felt he could get more out of "The Power of Intention" than he could out of "Muffin Mouse's New House."

That same week, they had to go to the vet to get his stitches out. Leo's mom reported that for the first time, Leo was a perfect angel getting in and out of the car, moving as slowly and as carefully as she had asked him too. Even though Leo didn't want to hear what we were saying about the car all those weeks earlier, he obviously had listened. Now his mom is much more comfortable taking him in the car, since he has shown he can share in the responsibility of ensuring he doesn't damage his leg before it fully heals.

So, keep in mind that your animals have these two sides as well . . . their "wise self" and their "young self" . . . and regardless of which side they are operating from, they are always trying to communicate something to you.