Some may find the following story morbid or overly sentimental so please consider yourself warned.  I'm so tired and worn out from keeping things that matter to me bottled up for so many years...   Fawn image 

I'm learning about spiritual energy, little by little, and how unresolved grief can block the flow of it.  Last month I started getting Reiki treatments and this has led to a surprising and unanticipated discovery.  It wasn't until just before my fourth session that the visions my master practitioner had during the first two sessions started to make sense to me. The first was of a very newborn fawn, the second was of fairies and fireflies above my abdomen.  The only thing that came to mind about fireflies was the painting "Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose" by John Singer Sargent - a print of it has been hanging in my home for years.

Also in April, on a routine visit to my gynecologist, a lump was found on my uterus and so I was scheduled for a biopsy the following week.  When the day for the biopsy came, for some reason I could not fathom, I started intensely missing my grandfather, even though he had died in April eight long years ago.  I cried for the longest time before leaving for my appointment.  When they were ready to begin, however, the lump was gone - no trace of it to be found - much to the bewilderment of the doctor!  Could it be the Reiki?  I wondered...

For the third Reiki session crystals were added and it felt more powerful, but I was still focused on my current problems in life.  Then I had an unexpectedly nice day with my aunt.  She needed some jewelry repaired and wanted a new watch so we went to her favorite jewelry store where she was waited on as if she was royalty, not a poor little 94 year-old woman living in elderly housing.  When the shop owner asked if we were related, Auntie said, "Oh yes!  She's my niece and my guardian angel - I couldn't live without her!"  I was astonished!  She is usually quite negative, abrupt and demanding.  Hearing her say that made everything feel different!

A couple of days later, out of the blue, the symbols and synchronicity suddenly made sense!  I now believe that my doe was preparing me for this understanding last November, when she looked into my eyes for over an hour.  I had a miscarriage 23 years ago that I never had a chance to grieve.  Auntie was the only one who seemed to care, and she came over and ran my house for a few days; my other kids were 9, 7 and 4 at the time.  The rest of my extended family said the fetus was probably abnormal and it was a blessing that nature got rid of it.  The fetus.  As if it was just a medical event.  She wasn't a fetus to me.

When does a fetus become a daughter?  When her mother and big sister fall in love with her I think.  For a very long time my little four-year-old Larisa would pray out loud every day that she was so sad the baby died.  I always wanted to have two sons and two daughters, the perfect family.  I'm starting to understand that I did have two daughters, and one of them died.  A loss to acknowledge and mourn.  To do so I felt she needed a name and a date.  Crying and crying, I pulled out my old calendars and finally found where I had written, "miscarriage," on October 15, 1985.  So I plan to remember this date from now on, in the same way I remember my mother's death date.

A name.  Naming patterns in different cultures and historical time periods are studied in genealogy.  It used to make me sad  researching my mother's New England ancestors.  Back then they didn't seem to "waste" names on children who died.  So many died in childhood that perhaps parents couldn't afford it psychologically to get sentimental about it.  If a baby died when he was three days old they usually didn't bother to name him.  If a child was named and died sometime during his childhood, say at ten years of age, the parents would give his name again to the next son they had.  It was as if personal identity didn't matter quite so much as the importance of keeping a name alive, carrying it forward to next generation.  On the other hand, my Ukrainian grandparents lost three children, and never used one of their names for a younger child.

I think I was missing my grandfather so keenly the morning of the biopsy - that didn't happen - because this baby needed to be named after him.  My first three children had middle names from three of my grandparents.  So now, my sweet Emily Jane, I have finally honored your memory with a name and a story.  You have been named for my beloved, kind, and dearly missed grandfather - Jane is the feminine of John - and for the author of the most amazing poetry I've ever read, Emily Dickinson.  You are no doubt the beautiful newborn baby fawn Tania saw during that first Reiki session.

And now I understand the connection between my loving the "Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose" painting and the vision of fireflies above my empty uterus.  Not sure if there are actually any fireflies in the picture, but it sure looks like there could be.  And the two little girls represent the dream I once had of my own two little girls growing up together.

"And the world cannot be discovered by a journey of miles, no matter how long, but only by a spiritual journey, a journey of one inch, very arduous and humbling and joyful, by which we arrive at the ground at our feet, and learn to be at home."
~ Wendell Berry (The Unforeseen Wilderness)

Coast violet is an endangered species in Connecticut.

One of the things we did on our anniversary was take a walk on Beech Forest Trail at Cape Cod National Seashore.  It felt so peaceful and invigorating being out in the salty fresh air and filtered sunlight...  At one point a little chickadee flew very close to me and landed on a branch at eye-level, just inches from me.  I put out my hand but he declined to land on it, disappointed because I had no seeds for him.  But he stayed close and talked to me for a bit, posing for pictures on his little branch.  Unfortunately the pictures came out blurry!  However, a little farther along the trail, someone had put out a few seeds for the birds on a stump, but an adorable red squirrel was hogging that feast!  He wouldn't pose for my camera, but didn't mind if I got close and tried to get a few shots with the "children and pets" setting.  I'm now thinking perhaps the chickadee was asking me to shoo the red squirrel away from the seeds...

Larisa gave me a book, In the Footsteps of Thoreau: 25 Historic & Nature Walks on Cape Cod, which I took along with me on our getaway to the Cape last weekend.  We spent a little time at the Marconi Station Site, a part of Cape Cod National Seashore in Wellfleet.  We've been going there our whole lives, but the views still inspire awe.  Being on the Cape's outer beach gently reminds me that nothing lasts forever, and to treasure each moment I'm given on this ever-shifting seashore.  Here I've often felt time stand still and a powerful unity with the earth and the universe...

Cape Cod is the world's largest glacial peninsula.  The glacial bluffs of the outer beach are eroding and will eventually be swallowed up by the sea.  Maybe sooner then previously thought if global warming continues to speed up.  Not too far offshore are hundreds of shipwrecks caused by the Cape's rips, shoals and storms.  A pirate ship lies on the bottom out from this part of the beach, and when weather permits, Expedition Whydah continues to dig up more artifacts which can be seen at the museum in Provincetown.

It's as if Mother Nature is saying, "Here is one place you will not build."  No one can claim these beautiful views for himself.  We cannot follow all of Thoreau's footsteps today because many of them are already buried by the sea.  Thoreau had this to say of Cape Cod's outer beach, about 150 years ago:

"They commonly celebrate those beaches only which have a hotel on them, or those which have a humane house alone.  But I wished to see that sea-shore where man's works are wrecks; to put up at the true Atlantic House, where the ocean is land-lord as well as sea-lord, and comes ashore without a wharf for the landing; where the crumbling land is only invalid or at best but dry land, and that is all you can say of it."
~ Henry David Thoreau (In the Footsteps of Thoreau: 25 Historic & Nature Walks on Cape Cod)

And even the Marconi Station, built only about 100 years ago, has been claimed by the sea.  A little bit of history:
"Marconi Station, on the Atlantic side of the Cape's forearm, is the site of the first transatlantic wireless station erected on the U.S. mainland.  Italian radio and wireless-telegraphy pioneer Guglielmo Marconi sent the first American wireless message from here to Europe - 'most cordial greetings and good wishes' from President Theodore Roosevelt to King Edward VII of England - on January 18, 1903.  The station broadcasted news for 15 years.  An outdoor shelter contains a model of the original station, of which only fragments remain as a result of cliff erosion; parts of the tower bases are sometimes visible on the beach below, where they fell."
~ Fodor's

In the wee hours of yesterday morning my sister came downstairs looking for something to relieve a very sore throat.  We gave her some all natural throat lozenges and she was able to go back to sleep...  When she woke up in the morning she had horrible laryngitis and had gone through more than half the bag of lozenges.  Yikes!  But she went into work anyway - she's a college professor scrambling to get all her students' projects done and grades submitted by the 21st.  Will have to call her at home today and see how she's doing.  Of course the possibility of the H1N1 virus concerns me.

When this whole swine flu scare began my father, who was a research virologist before he retired, had been following the news reports with his usual scientific curiosity and scrutiny.  With his poor short term memory it was nice to see him focused for a little while.  He didn't say much, but once started chuckling and asked aloud, "Now wouldn't that be ironic if a virologist wound up dying in a flu virus epidemic?"  The idea clearly amuses him as he is in such poor health he often tells us that it is time for him to die but death won't come.

It kind of puzzles me about the media take on all this.  At first they seemed to be in such a panic.  Then they started analyzing their own reaction to it.  Now they're playing it down and I wonder why.  When the 55 year old assistant principal in New York City died they said he "had preexisting health conditions."  What is that supposed to mean?  His death didn't really count somehow?  There aren't many of us who don't have preexisting health conditions!  He was healthy enough to hold down a job.  It will be interesting to see how this develops.

"A Murmur in the Trees - to note -
Not loud enough - for Wind -
A Star - not far enough to seek -
Nor near enough - to find -"
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson)

Yesterday we were about to start our morning walk in the mist when we heard a clap of not-too-distant thunder.  So we got back in the car and decided to watch two Canada geese families weather the storm.  One family had four little ones and an unattached aunt or uncle spending time with them.  The other family only had two goslings, and they were smaller than the four the other family had.  Not sure if they were younger or just smaller for some reason.  Dad had an awfully ugly and uncomfortable looking tag around his neck.  They were all strolling along at leisurely pace, grazing on the grass... 

When the rain started the smaller goslings made a mad dash for their mom, who indulged them for a bit by letting them huddle underneath her.  The larger ones looked curious and flapped their wings a few times, imitating their parents.  Then they all stood quite still for several minutes, facing into the wind and thrusting their chests out in front of them.  After that they decided to ignore the rain and continued walking and feeding.  When one of the small goslings got to a small puddle that had formed in the grass, he walked in, but when it got deeper he was surprised and suddenly started swimming, almost tipping over!  He looked just as surprised when he had to start walking again!

Wish the pictures had come out better, but I did learn a few more things about my camera.  Fiddled with settings and kept wiping rain drops off, and got petty soaked in the process.  I know Canada Geese are pretty commonplace, but they were still a wonder to observe more closely than we usually bother, to take the time to enjoy them.