Category Archives: Healing the World

Picture of Memorial Day crosses as grave markers

Memorial Day 2017: Reiki and hope for peace

On this Memorial Day, my heart longs for peace. Tears form in my eyes as I watch television images of wounded and fallen soldiers, victims of war. I cringe as I hear the planes from a memorial airshow flying over my apartment. I say a prayer for families trapped in war zones. They live day in and day out with those planes flying over, dropping bombs and death on their innocent lives. My hands are hot with Reiki and love as I meditate and write peace over the world.

Where does all this war come from? Why do we hate each other so? In the Bible, Jesus taught his disciples about the Father’s kingdom, a kingdom of Love. In the kingdom of Love, Jesus said we must learn to even love our enemies. At the end of Jesus’ life, Peter cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant to try and protect Jesus from violence. Jesus corrected Peter and responded in peace by laying his healing hands on the servant’s ear.

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Women's March Seattle picture

Women Marching

Millions of women are marching across the United States, and the whole world, today. I am marching in my spirit, whole and well, even as I am unable to physically march on my broken foot. I join with all my sisters to say: We are marching for peace! We are marching for love!

We are marching for a better world! A world in which our daughters will grow up to be seen as powerful contributors to society, not just a pretty body for men to grab. A world in which our sons will know that showing compassion and empathy is a truer sign of strength than being the top boss. We are marching for a world in which people experiencing disabilities are fully included in society rather than being mocked by the president of the United States. We are marching so that Muslims, and people of all religions, can live in peace, rather than live in fear that the president will order them rounded up and registered.

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Art as healing: creating art for art’s sake

Art, and life, is a process, not a product.

Art like a child

I love to make art with my preschoolers. We turn dot stickers into colorful bugs, collage paper and foil into swimming fish and mermaids, paint and toilet paper tubes into binoculars. We create with imagination, with abandon, with fun, with love.

There is healing in creating art like a child. Children delight in the process of art: feeling the paint squish between their fingers, smelling the scented markers that leave bold lines and shapes on rainbow paper.

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Memorial Day: Reiki for the victims

“Eve of Destruction” is a 1960’s protest song written by PF Sloan and made famous by singer Barry McGuire. The lyrics refer to 1960’s issues of fighting against communism and for civil rights, but I think the words are as poignant and true on this Memorial Day, 2014, as ever. Here is the last verse of the song:

Think of all the hate there is in Red China!
Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama!
Ah, you may leave here, for four days in space,
but when your return, it’s the same old place,
the poundin’ of the drums, the pride and disgrace,
you can bury your dead, but don’t leave a trace,
hate your next-door-neighbor, but don’t forget to say grace,
and you tell me over and over and over and over again my friend,
ah, you don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction.

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Happy Mother’s Day and Pain of Rejection

All holidays can be tough for people who have experienced abuse, neglect, or rejection by their own parents, the people who are supposed to love them the most. Of course our parents are only human, they will make mistakes in raising us, and in navigating the sometimes strange tides of adult child to parent relationship. Neither family relationships, nor life itself, rarely resemble the idyllic world of a Hallmark movie. But there are some parents who commit true evil toward their children. Remembering the rejection of a mother can be particularly painful on the Mother’s Day holiday.

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good samaritan at bus stop

The Bus Stop

She sat on the corner of the bench, fidgeting nervously as she waited for the bus.

I was a graduate student, studying music. I had left my car at home that afternoon and taken the bus to school for the week’s masterclass.

I had performed from the bottom of my heart. But the masterclass teacher had ripped apart my performance, picking at the length of my eighth notes and the sloppy edges of my articulation. Tiny details, but enough to make or break someone in the cutthroat world of classical music. And he should know. He was renowned in the music world, he had performed big gigs with big orchestras. My dream. Or was it? Now I found myself at the bus stop, warm tears threatening to overflow my eyes onto my cold cheeks in the brisk Michigan autumn.

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Stroller in the Snow

Photo used courtesy of Sharon Mollerus on flickr.com

Photo used courtesy of Sharon Mollerus on flickr.com

The wind howled furiously around her, like a pack of ravenous wolves ready to devour the first living thing who dared to venture out in the bitter cold. She struggled and limped through the piles of snow on the sidewalk. Her husband walked beside her, mightily pushing their three-year-old son in his stroller, wheels catching and bowing to the pressure of the flakes, hardened by wind and footprints into biting balls of ice.

The young family decided to try to walk on the street, where snow plows had helped clear a way. Almost immediately, cars veered dangerously close to the child, and drivers angrily honked their horns. “Why don’t you get a job?” one driver yelled out as he hastily rolled his window down and back up. The woman bowed her head deeper as she thought about the years of schooling, her carefully crafted thesis, her pride when she walked across the stage to receive her master’s diploma. All for what? A low-wage, low-respect job with little opportunity for advancement. But “get a job?” She did work 40 hours a week already!

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My View on Santa Claus

Picture used freely, courtesy of marczini on stock.xchng

Picture used freely, courtesy of marczini on stock.xchng

Yesterday, a friend asked me what I think about Santa Claus. I have a three-year-old son, so this question is on my mind as we approach the holiday season.

I like the story of Saint Nicholas of Myra. He was legendary in his concern for the poor, bringing them gifts to lift their burdens. Legend says that he even paid the dowries of some poor young women so they could afford marriage and not fall into prostitution. This is amazing, and this is the kind of lesson I want my son to learn.

Unfortunately, the Santa Claus of today bears little resemblance to the saint of old. Our Santa Claus has become the happy, bearded patron saint of commercialism and corporatism. His tightly-run, efficient North Pole toy factory is a marvel of modern industrialism. His elves are willing workers who, much to the jealousy of managerial staff everywhere, never seem to gripe about hours or higher pay. To his credit, Santa Claus does provide his elves with all guaranteed basic necessities: food, shelter, health care, all in the comfort of his magical snowy village. This is far more generous than corporate America.

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A Natural Healer’s Thoughts on Obamacare

Photo used freely, courtesy of pear83 on stock.xchng

Photo used freely, courtesy of pear83 on stock.xchng

I am a healer. I use natural and Holy Spirit-led healing methods and ideas to bring balance in my own life, my family’s life, and the lives of my clients.My greatest hope as a healer and spiritual seeker is to bring balance, light, and love to my community and the world at large as I am led by YHWH, the Creator and great Healer. I believe that everyone has the right to seek an abundant life full of joy, and to follow a journey of healing from physical and emotional pain.

Sadly, my country is in turmoil right now, following a path of hatred and destruction, the opposite path of healing. I am disgusted by Congress and the constant bickering and posturing of those who supposedly “represent” us. They are willing to shut down the government at the risk of jobs, housing, even food and life itself for Americans everywhere, all in the name of denying universal medical care: The Affordable Care Act, AKA Obamacare.

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Trayvon Martin and Injustice in America

Photo used freely, posted by nokomai on stock.xchng.

Photo used freely, posted by nokomai on stock.xchng.

When I heard the verdict in the Trayvon Martin case, I wept. I wept for my country, I wept for my family, I wept for Trayvon’s family, I wept for Trayvon. “No justice. No peace,” mirrored in crystal tears.

I weep for America. The case is a black and white portrayal of the racism still deeply ingrained in American society, a farce of everything that is called justice. The verdict echoes through the hallowed halls of abolition, civil rights, affirmative action, and every other progress we claim to have made in America. The cry for equality returns void, the pound of the gavel snuffing out the life of so many Trayvons now and forward.

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