My dear John, we’ve been exchanging emails for a long time. I love to receive news from you, as you spend hours and years nailed in your wheelchair. I tried my best to heal you with scalar waves, but it doesn’t seem to work yet. Wait and see. Talking about healings, here is the last message you send me. I love you John. (xs)
My dear Xavier, I am so poor at communication these days; I have been collecting open wounds which don’t heal and the pain is stacked on existing pain, like Monty Python’s spam. St. Sebastian without the piety, I’d rather not go there.
But despite my apparent inability to help my own healing, I was able to help another’s. The cat – he is not mine, he “belongs” to a family maybe 150 metres distant, he adopted me and lived here for a couple of years while there was trouble at home. A regular visitor, he likes to come and eat, drink, sleep in my company; I am his friend the “Blue Dog” (according to my meditation).
One afternoon last month, he arrived barely able to walk, growling with pain. He could eat – no internal injuries – but something had hit his right hip and leg, maybe a bicycle or the toe of the concierge’s boot. All he could do was rest, so here he stayed. When it became apparent that this was quite severe, I fetched his family members, but he didn’t want them. We agreed to let him stay with me.
Once he had his bed, I wondered what more I could do – he would not be touched near his injury. Intuitively, I let the palm of my hand hover maybe 5cm over him, scanning back and forth. Quite rapidly, I found a “hot spot” over his right hip, about the size of my hand, and let my hand stay over it while I gave him healing and loving thoughts, only for a minute or so at a time. When I took my hand away, the heat stuck to it and I flicked it off, saying “let’s throw away the pain”.
By the second day, the hot spot was shrinking, yet when I held my palm over it, his tail twitched and flicked as if in annoyance, but he did not protest. By the third day, the hot spot had almost gone and he licked my fingers as I held my hand over him – gradually his mobility was returning.
When he was first injured, I’d told his family “five days” – I’m not a vet, that estimate came from the ether – yet on the evening of the fourth day, he went outside for an hour and a half (after a treat of raw tuna); he was quite energetic as he departed, exhausted when he returned – he’d visited his family, then come back to me. He tested himself at every stage – jumping took several more days – but as soon as he could, he would visit me on my bed and lay on the left side of my body, over my heart, purring with affection.
Now he is almost back to his normal self. In truth, he managed his own heaing and physiotherapy and I was merely his assistant, but I like to think that my amateur Reiki helped his process. So out of something so negative, a positive experience resulted.
It was good for both of us, as it turned out.
Innumerable are our ways and our uncertain residences.