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Tag Archives: Healing

We Must Never Forget

16 Friday Nov 2018

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Healing

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Awareness, Change, Death, Faith, Family, Growth, Harmony, Healing, Heart, Holocaust, Hope, Journey, Learning, Lost, Love, Memorial, Memory, Prejudice, Prevention, Racism, Remember, Survivor, Witness

1993

I enter the recently opened Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., join a crowd of strangers and begin travelling through time. Our group moves from one historical moment to the next. We observe Kristallnacht, the burning of books, mass murders, rape, and other Nazi atrocities. Each event brings us closer to Hitler’s “final solution.”

Passing beneath an arching sign, ARBEIT MACHT FREI (work sets you free), I enter Auschwitz—following the trail of my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, cousins, children, countless members of the human family. First, the selection: to the left or to the right, to gas showers or living hell.

To The Left

A scale model of Auschwitz’s Crematorium II depicts the journey too many were condemned to take: down a stairway to an undressing room, and from there to an underground gas chamber. Naked bodies massed together, each struggling to survive. Gold teeth and fillings pulled from corpses as they lay on the ground. Hair shaved from their heads. And, then, their final destination. Ovens.

Wanting to control my emotions while bearing witness, I take a deep breath and steel my innards. The next exhibit displays empty canisters of Zyklon B. (The insecticide that gassed my Grandmother.)

I enter a room of shoes. These shoes survived, but not their owners. A stale musty smell pervades the room, for the shoes carry a stench from the past, reminding me of the horrors they witnessed. (Could one have belonged to Grandmother?)

To The Right

After selection came tattoos. No longer a name, now a number. At least Grandmother was spared this indignity. But like others entering Auschwitz, Grandfather would have been branded on his left arm. And then he would have been shaved.

I stand staring at a display filled with human hair—swatches in shades of black, brown, yellow, white, and grey.

Unable to look at the hair any longer, I read the accompanying placard and learn that the Nazis found a use for everything. They sold their victims’ hair. When soldiers liberated Auschwitz, they discovered 15,000 pounds of human hair in bales averaging 40 pounds each. (Was Grandfather’s hair in one of those bales, or was it sold to make felt slippers or stuffing for a mattress?)

Continuing my journey through time, I view photographs of death marches and learn that on January 18, 1945 about 60,000 prisoners were removed from Auschwitz. About 15,000 died during that march. (Each life precious, one my Grandfather’s.) I stare at a photograph of prisoners with grey camp blankets draped over their shoulders, each barely surviving, yet struggling to continue. (Is Grandfather among them? Which one might he be?)

Moving on to Liberation, I wait my turn to watch a display of film clippings. The first is of Auschwitz and Dachau. I look at haggard faces and emaciated bodies stuck atop toothpick legs. Some survivors are too weak to walk; soldiers carry these skeletons to shelter. (Could one be Aunt Friedl?)

I stand transfixed before one person’s eyes: wide open eyes, haunted, staring. They gaze at me and through me—as if perpetually drowning in an internal sea of horror. Rescuers help and support his body, but his mind appears frozen in time, stuck inside the terrors of his past.

I stare at piles of decomposing dead bodies. A fly moves in and out of one person’s nostrils.

At Liberation, I lose control over my emotions. Pent up feelings erupt, tears stream from my eyes, and my chest heaves with inner sobs. Moving away from the exhibit, I search for a place where I can pull myself together. Luckily I find a bathroom nearby, where I hide inside a stall. My face twitches as tears roll down my cheeks. I struggle for composure, trying to contain my raging emotions and quell my tears.

When my chest eventually stops heaving, I blow my nose and resume my journey. After passing exhibits describing the plight of survivors and their search for a homeland, I walk into an area where a movie is being shown.

The movie consists of interviews with survivors. I sit mesmerized by their stories—poignant moments of hope, bravery, courage, rebellion, anger, faith, and love. Many cared for each other despite deplorable living conditions, reminding me of humanity’s decency. Tears fall from my eyes with each testimony. I wipe the tears away, but am unable to locate a tissue in my backpack and sit sniffling through the movie.

A woman speaks from the screen, saying, “One should never give up. Giving up is a final solution to a temporary problem.” Another man says, “The future—there was none. But we didn’t give up.”

The movie ends with a female survivor asking us all to bear witness, to stand up to every form of persecution, to make sure such atrocities can never happen again. Not to anyone. Not ever!

People around me start leaving the area. Many quietly wipe tears from their eyes. I continue to sit, still sniffling away. The woman next to me leans over and asks, “Are you alright?”

I am initially taken by surprise. (My grandparents were murdered along with millions of other good people. Such suffering! And courage! How can anyone be alright with that?)

Appreciating her expression of caring concern, I smile reassuringly and say, “Thank you. I’m fine.”

A voice announces that the museum will soon close. It is time to leave, but I have trouble pulling myself away from the exhibits.

Finally following the crowd, I drag myself into a hallway, pass beneath a sign that says “Hall of Remembrance,” and enter a spacious place. A flame burns on a coffin-shaped grey slab of granite at the far end of the sky-lit room.

Walking around this six-sided space, I sense six million ghosts swirling above me, behind me, and around me. They are here to remind us of human nature’s dark side. They are here to protect us from ourselves.

WE MUST NEVER FORGET!

 

The Power of Place

14 Monday Nov 2016

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Nature, Spiritual, Whole

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Tags

Attune, Awareness, Community, Connection, Earth, Emotional, Energy, Environments, Flow, Harmony, Harmony Farm, Haven, Healing, Heart, Holistic, Intuition, Land, Light, Medfield MA, Moss, Nature, Place, Pond, Retreat Center, Sacred, Sensation, Sense, Senses, Settings, Sounds, Spiritual, Trails, Vibrations, Water, Wellbeing, Woods, Yoga

Harmony Farm

In Medfield, a small suburban town 45 minutes from Boston, you spot the Harmony Farm sign hanging from a tree and know you have arrived.  Turning into the driveway, you hear the wheels humming a different tune as they move from harsh black macadam to gentle gravel. The sound of cars fades into the distance.

The car slows its pace as you travel along the gently winding road. You unconsciously let down your guard, breathing out a sigh, letting anxiety dissipate, worry and stress gently release.

Harmony Farm - Shore, Tragakis family reunion, August 2005

Looking to your right, you watch a few sheep and a donkey contentedly grazing in the verdant green meadow. After a while you cross a bubbling stream and begin to notice a profound shift happening inside you. A change in energy, something magical is happening. As if you’re journeying to another time, a sacred space.

You continue following the road, passing a barn, then what looks to be a residence on your right. The road leads ahead, then bends to the right and you chance upon a building nestled inside a circle of tall pine trees.

This must be it, you think, as you park your car and enter the building. You’re here for a workshop sponsored by the non-profit, Harmony Center. Upon entering the building, you notice herbs hanging from beams above, then stop and stare ahead, awed by a high ceilinged octagonal room, three sides of which are glass.

Resuming your slow pace, you move toward the windows and breathe in the scene outside. Woods slope gently down ahead, a pond to the right and stunning flowers demand your attention.

You open to the peace and tranquility of this place.Foxglove outside Harmony Center

Attunement

Wherever we are, we attune to our surroundings. The energy of place seeps inside us. This happens beneath the surface, outside conscious awareness. The vibrations around us affect every level of our being – physical, mental, emotional and spiritual.

Where we live and where we work affects us more than we may realize. It happens very gradually, almost imperceptibly.

Natural environments affect us differently from citified ones. We know this intuitively. If we live and / or work confined by concrete, we yearn for the healing energy of natural settings.

Tuning In

Your Harmony Center workshop includes experiential exercises held outside. The group walks slowly down a grassy path, arriving at a pristine pond. You watch sparkles of light dance upon the water as sunbeams play on its gently rippling surface. Birdsong fills the air and winged beings flit here and there.  You absorb the sound of water cascading over rocks below and open to sense water flowing through your veins, enlivening every cell in your body.

10

A reflection floats through your mind, “This land soothes my soul and pulls on my heart strings.

After crossing the dam, you walk along trails through untamed woods. Your feet feel earth moving up to greet each and every step. The softness of moss, smell of earth, vibrant colors of trees – your senses awaken and absorb sensation.

25

When the workshop ends, your car wends its way back along the driveway. Reflecting on your experience, you realize that something has shifted deep inside. You feel peaceful and serene, more connected to yourself and at one with the world. “How could this happen,” you wonder, “Is it this place?”

Turning onto the black-topped road, you enter the flow of traffic. You hold onto your sense of wellbeing, storing it deep within your heart.

Such is the power of place.

 

Note: All the above photos were taken on Harmony Farm, Medfield, MA.

Change

08 Thursday Sep 2016

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Nature, Whole

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Change, Commune, Earth, Growth, Harmony, Harmony Center, Healing, Journey, Nature, Seasons, Spiritual, Walk, Wholeness

We humans alter the Earth to suit our needs.  We impact our environment, often with little thought to long term consequences.

I’ve been blessed to live on 23 beautiful acres.  Harmony Farm’s pond, stream, woods, and fields have impacted every aspect of my being.  Admittedly, we changed the land by building a house, a barn and a studio, but we tried to do so in an earth-friendly manner.  When planting and tending gardens, we did so organically.

While living on this small slice of nature, I spent time each day outside.  My activity depended on the season.  I walked trails through the woods almost every day and when snow covered the ground I did so with snowshoes.  During spring summer and fall, I ate breakfast by the  pond listening to birdsong, inhaling the sights around me.  I also frequently swam in the pond – a delightful sensory experience.

pondlambs-038

Something important happened during the 36 years that I’ve lived on this land.  I changed.  It happened gradually, almost imperceptibly.  By spending time outside each day, I began feeling whole, more complete.  More peaceful and serene.

The land changed me.

Sap Rising

20 Wednesday Mar 2013

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Nature

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Awaken, Celebrate, Contemplate, Cycle, Energy, Forsythia, Healing, Maple, Nature, Sap, Seasons, Spiritual, Spring, Spring Equinox, Tonic, Winter

I sit in my kitchen sipping maple sap, staring at the landscape constantly transforming before my eyes while contemplating the spring equinox.  During the past few weeks, I’ve experienced warm weather melting the blizzard’s huge snowfall, followed by a snowy weekend surprise totaling around 17”.  Again the snow melted, bare ground appeared, only to disappear yet again under another white blanket.

Winter never moves directly into spring.  Seasons spiral in and out as we gradually cycle from one to the next.  Longer days and shorter nights herald the coming of spring. 

Day and night are of equal length at the spring equinox, which marks the official start of spring.  As I do each year before the spring equinox, I cut some forsythia branches last week, brought them into the house and placed them in a vase with water.  Their forced yellow blooms now sit atop a counter in my kitchen – a tribute to spring.    

Prior to the spring equinox, we also gather maple sap from trees on our property.  The sap can be boiled down to create maple syrup.  Many years ago we once took on this project, only to realize its huge labor intensive and sap consuming nature.  Many, many gallons of sap reduced to one tiny container of syrup.

Maple Tap

Our sap gathering equipment gathered dust in the barn until I learned about a traditional practice of drinking the sap without boiling it down.  Consumed in this manner, maple sap is considered a spring tonic.  Full of minerals, and other healing properties, tree sap helps us move out of the winter doldrums and experience the energy of sap rising within.

Although Earth’s energy re-awakens with spring, winter’s lethargy still pervades my body, weighing me down and refusing to release her grip.  As I sip on hot maple sap, I invite the energy of spring to enter my body.  May I feel sap rise within me. 

Doe

07 Thursday Feb 2013

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Nature, Spiritual

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Commune, Deer, Doe, Energy, Gentle, Healing, Heart, Kindhearted, Love, medicine, Nature, Prayer, Presence, Sacred, Sensed, Spirit, Spiritual, Thoughts, Walk

The other day I received an e-mail from a friend.  After informing me that her husband had been hospitalized with pneumonia shortly after contracting the flu, she asked that I hold him in my thoughts and pray for his recovery.  

Later that morning I took my usual walk in the woods, which includes visiting a special area on a small hill where I say daily prayers.  I stood for a while in this sacred area, holding Paul in my heart and sending him love and healing energy.  I then vocalized a prayer out loud, asking Spirit to help my both friend and her husband.

Upon finishing my prayers, I immediately sensed a presence on my left.  Looking over, I spotted a beautiful doe looking at me intently.  Again I spoke aloud, though this time I spoke with her and asked her not to be afraid. 

Usually deer run the minute they hear my voice or the sound of my footsteps.  Instead, she remained standing while I moved slowly to another rocky area nearby where I usually say a few more prayers.

Doe on Hill

Looking at Doe, I thanked her for her gentle energy and asked her to send love and healing to my friend and her husband.

Doe and I continued to commune with one another.  I felt her radiating kindhearted gentleness.  She even appeared to pose while I took her photograph. 

When our time together was up, we slowly moved in different directions.  I felt Doe’s gentle energy reverberating inside me throughout the remainder of my walk.

Paul returned home from the hospital and continues to recover.  While allopathic antibiotics helped kill the bugs., Doe’s gentle, loving energy assisted his healing process. 

Thank you dear Doe!  

Skullcap

30 Sunday Sep 2012

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Nature

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Earth, Folk Herbalism, Great Turning, Healing, Herbalists, Herbs, Land, Nature, Nervine, Plants, Seasons, Skullcap, Tincture, Walk

Herbalists read the land.  Traditional herbalists teach that the herbs we need volunteer in our back yards.  In general, herbs growing closest to our homes are for more daily use, while those growing in more distant places are to be used less frequently. 

Phyllis Light grew up in the folk herbalism tradition.  She taught me to pay attention when a given plant suddenly appears more plentiful, for that plant’s healing remedies will probably be needed during the coming season.  Such abundance is a signal to harvest that herb in preparation for future use. 

After moving to Harmony Farm over 30 years ago, I delighted in identifying the plants growing on our property and learning about their uses.  I found a few Skullcap (Scutellaria laterifolia) plants growing at some distance from my house, at an edge of the stream and in a few spots around the pond.  I tincture some from time to time and use the tincture when I need a nervine that will be calming while also relaxing muscles.  When I travel, I usually take a little with me in case I experience difficulty sleeping. 

I think of Skullcap as being slightly shy.  Her small blue flowers don’t grab one’s attention, and it’s easy to walk by without noticing her. 

Skullcap recently surprised me.  I suddenly spotted a big patch in the middle of a trail where I take my daily walk – an unusual spot for Skullcap to grow. 

Once she had my attention, Skullcap kept me focused on her.  I began noticing plants growing in quite a few places along my daily walking route.  Each day I discovered more.  As I also stopped finding Skullcap in her usual spots, I realized that she was behaving in an unusual manner. 

On a recent walk in the woods, I stared at yet another Skullcap growing smack in the middle of my trail and suddenly remembered Phyllis’s teaching.  “Aha” I exclaimed while bowing my head, “I get it!  Thank you for being persistent.” 

Suspecting that we will need Skullcap during the months ahead, I returned later with a basket in one hand and scissors in the other.  After snipping sprigs from quite a few plants, I hung some to dry in the attic and made tincture form the rest. 

Reflecting on this experience, I wonder, “Could Earth be sending messages about stressful times to come … about the Great Turning?  Could Earth be offering Skullcap as a way to stay centered and calm during this time of change?” 

I have no idea whether I, or we, will need Skullcap in the season ahead.  Yet with bottles of her sitting on my shelf, I feel better prepared for whatever the future may bring. 

St. J’s

30 Thursday Aug 2012

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Nature

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Gifts, Gratitude, Harmony Center, Healing, Heart, Herbal Oil, Herbs, Love, Nature, Plants, Tincture

After waiting for the dew to dry, I walk over to Harmony Center  where one of my two Hypericum perforatum plants continues to flower.  My friends and I refer to this plant as St. J’s, staying out of the herbal controversy over whether it should be known by its more common name, St. John’s Wort, or the feminist alternative St. Joan’s Wort.  

St. J’s has a reputation for helping to alleviate depression.  While looking at its bright, cheerful yellow flowers, would lift anyone’s spirits, St. J’s offers many other healing gifts to us humans.  In addition to having anti-viral properties, this beautiful plant is anti-inflammatory, anti-spasmodic and anti-bacterial.  I’ve given infused St. J’s oil to people with shingles to apply externally for alleviating the neuralgia and use it myself when my hip or muscles yell in pain.[1]

I was initially taught to gather the top flowering parts of St. J’s, including some leaves.  Like other herbs, I harvested no more than 1/3 of the top.  As St. J’s isn’t plentiful on my land, after harvesting the one or two plants growing here, I drove around scanning the landscape, searching for more. 

My relationship with St. J’s changed after I became friends with salve maker Gretchen Gould.  Her oil won an herbal competition for having the deepest, richest, reddest color, thereby being the most medicinal.  She shared her secret with me.  She only harvests the newly opened flowers.   

I now follow her example.  In doing so, I’ve experienced another St. J’s gift. 

St. J’s begins blooming around the Summer Solstice (June 20th this year).   More than two months later, she continues to offer newly opened blossoms each morning.  Perennials, like St. J’s, usually don’t behave this way.  In contrast to annuals, they have a short flowering season. 

Over these months, I’ve filled jar after jar with St. J’s flowers.  First I made the oil by adding olive oil to the jars and placing them in a sunny spot.  I watched the bright yellow flowers magically transform the yellowish oil into a brilliant red color.  As the plants kept producing, I made tincture by adding 100 proof vodka to a jar of flowers.  The initially clear vodka similarly transformed into a crimson red color.  Then I dried some flowers to use in teas. 

As I walk over to St. J’s this morning, my heart feels full of gratitude.  Arriving beside her, I pick her offerings of the day and place them in my basket saying, “Dear, dear St. J’s, thank you for all you have given me this summer.  You kept giving, and giving, and giving.  It’s time for you to rest and renew.  Though I’ll keep visiting, I’m going to stop picking.”

I stand back, wondering what I can give back to St. J’s.  Looking at her, I focus on my full heart, open wide, and send her my love.  Then I find the hose, and sprinkle her roots with water. 

No wonder St. J’s helps alleviate depression.   She fills our hearts with love. 


[1] St.  J’s oil is generally only applied externally

Practicing

10 Tuesday Apr 2012

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Spiritual

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Gratitude, Healing, Meditation, Nature, Relax, Walk

Travelling home from the hospital, I worry, “How will I finish preparing to go away?”  “How will I pack if I’m hopping around on crutches?”   I wonder, “Will I be able to enjoy my vacation?”  Taking a positive approach, I decide to release expectations and learn to relax. 

The following day I assiduously ice my sprained ankle and send it healing energy.  As the day progresses, it gradually responds to my ministrations.  My ankle starts allowing me to put some weight on it without screaming in pain.  I graduate myself to using a cane, and manage to pack. Then, thanks to airline wheel chair arrangements, and my husband’s assistance, we’re able to fly to Salt Lake City the very next day. 

By the time I arrive in southern Utah, I’m able to walk unassisted by either the cane or the air cast.  Having looked forward to hiking in the area’s red rock desert landscape, I excitedly decide to give one a try.  Wanting to honor my ankle’s limitations, I review the three morning hikes being offered and sign up for the easiest, beginner level one. 

Our “Explorer” hike goes at an easy pace, with a guide ahead and a shepherd in the rear.  We frequently stop to admire the scenery – red and white rock formations contrasting against black lava areas.  The guide fills us in on geological history and points out interesting plants along the way.  I feel deeply grateful to be able to hike amidst these wonders of nature.  

After two such hikes, I feel increasingly confident in my ankle’s ability to negotiate the terrain.  My mind toys with the idea of signing up for a more challenging hike.  I yearn to ascend to higher heights and wonder whether to take the risk.

Observing my thoughts, I remind myself – “learn to relax.”   I sign up for the easiest hike. 

I religiously continue applying ice to my ankle.  And though tempted to take tai chi, or another class in the afternoons, I focus on relaxing.  I position myself outside, facing Red Rock Mountain with my leg propped up on a chair.  As I absorb the beautiful panorama, I count my blessings, feeling grateful for the experience. 

Now and again, though, the old thoughts pop up, I start debating about trying to do more.  I treat these thoughts like meditation.  Each time my mind wanders to thoughts of doing, I let go of the thought and focus my attention on being, on learning to relax. 

On my last day there I briefly feel tempted to take a more challenging hike.  Attuned now to my pattern, I immediately release the thought and open my heart to the pleasures of a slower paced hike. 

After a truly relaxing vacation, I return home to piles of mail and a to-do list filled with organizational details. 

Now the real challenge begins – continuing the practice at home. 

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