• About
  • Seeding Our Future

Communing

~ with Nature

Communing

Tag Archives: Love

We Must Never Forget

16 Friday Nov 2018

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Healing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

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!

 

Survivor Tree

14 Sunday Jan 2018

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Fox Hill Village, Growing, Nature, Spiritual

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Book, Czechoslovakia, Fox Hill's Woods, Gifts, Gratitude, Growth, Hill, Hitler, Intention, Listen, Love, Manuscript, Obstacles, Parents, Psychology, Roots, Season, Seed, Spiritual, Story, Survival Seed, Survival Tree, Trail, Trees, Walk, Woods

When we moved from Harmony Farm, I retired from my psychology practice along with other professional commitments. I opened my heart to new opportunities and interests.

After settling into my new home, I began roaming Fox Hill’s woods. While walking along a newly formed trail, my attention was drawn to a couple of special trees. One tree I immediately named “Survivor Tree” because of its amazing root formation.

Survivor Tree stands near the crest of a small hill and reaches majestically toward the sky. Its gnarled roots twist and turn; they rise from the ground, travel around and over large and small rocks, then bend into the hill before rising upward to form the trunk. Its roots tell the story of a young sapling struggling to survive: growing around and over immovable obstacles blocking its path, then finally establishing enough of a base to support upward growth.

On daily walks through the woods, I developed the habit of greeting my special trees by name. Inspired by their presences, I touched them, walked around them and communed with them. I offered thanks for their gifts—of oxygen, shelter, shade, food. And I sang songs of gratitude for their lessons.

One season moved into the next. It happened gradually, but I suddenly realized that I thought of my parents each time I passed Survivor Tree. It reminded me of them–my parents’ ability to stay rooted and continue to grow despite daunting obstacles in their path. It also reminded me of their unconditional love.

Around New Year’s Day, I stopped and listened more closely to Survivor Tree. I felt its seed calling from deep inside my heart. Having lain dormant for many years, this seed now asked to be nourished, nurtured and encouraged to grow. Tuning into its call, I realized that Survivor Seed contains a manuscript I wrote while my parents were alive.

The manuscript told the story of my parents’ escape from Hitler-occupied Czechoslovakia—their homeland. While Mother read what I had written and patiently corrected my spelling of names and places from their past, she preferred that I not pursue having it published. At the time, I honored her request.

Now, twenty five years later, Survivor Tree reminds me of that long ago manuscript and my intention to eventually publish it as a book. It will need much revising, but if I help Survivor Seed grow it might reach up toward the sky and branch out to form a book.

Giving Thanks

26 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Spiritual

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Blessings, Gratitude, Habit, Heart, Joy, Love, Opening, Perspective, Practice, Practicing, Prayer, Spiritual, Thanks, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving Day invites us to focus on gratitude and to give thanks for all that we have in our lives.  It reminds us to practice gratitude, not merely this one day of the year, but each and every day of our lives.

Opening to gratitude shifts our perspective and brings joy into our hears.  Spiritual traditions teach us to practice gratitude by devoting time each day to give thanks for the blessings in our lives.  It’s useful to do this after waking each morning and also later in the evening before going to sleep.  Practicing gratitude not only changes our individual lives, this attitude radiates to others, shifts their experience, and continues reverberating outward.

And so I invite you to cultivate the habit of gratitude.  Start on Thanksgiving day, then bring this practice into your daily life.  We’ll be practicing together.

 

Praying

12 Tuesday Feb 2013

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Nature, Spiritual

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Blizzard, Connection, Doe, Feeling, Gratitude, Harmony Center, Love, Nature, Prayer, Protection, Sacred, Safety, Sensing, Snow, Spirit, Spiritual, Spirituality, Walk, Wind

On the day of the impending blizzard, I took my usual walk in the woods.  Snow drifted down lazily around me as I put one foot in front of the other and connected with the land around me. 

Arriving in my sacred prayer area, I stood for a while surveying the scenery.  My heart expanded to include each tree, each rock, and each place my eyes touched.   I felt filled with love.

I began speaking out loud.  “Dear Spirit, please protect all of us during the coming blizzard.  Protect the birds, including Blue Jay who sat on the branch outside my bathroom window this morning, from the danger coming our way.  Protect all the wild beings, including gentle Doe who recently visited this area.  Help all who are in the path of the storm find shelter and stay safe.”

I continued praying, “Please guide each snowflake to pass between the tree branches and pine needles.  Help the trees sway and bend with the wind.”  

My prayers became more specific as I asked for protection for my family and friends, for our chickens and sheep, for Star our donkey, for Kali our dog, for Pizzaz our cat, for our home, for Harmony Center, and for all of Harmony Farm.

I prayed, and prayed some more.  Then stood in silence, listening, sensing, feeling.

Deep inside I felt reassured.  I couldn’t say how I knew, but I felt everything would be all right.

As the day progressed, I watched snow pile up and heard wind blow.  When I went over to Harmony Center during the evening, I noticed that our driveway had already been plowed.  I said a mental “thank you” to John for being out in the storm, for taking good care of people like ourselves.

Snowy Scene

Later at night I lay in bed, listening to wind howling around our house.  Snuggled cozily inside my bed, I felt safe and warm.  As I drifted into sleep, I felt deep gratitude for the unsung heroes out braving the storm keeping us safe, plowing, repairing electric lines, answering emergency calls, clearing railroad tracks, etc. etc. 

I prayed for their protection and sent them love. 

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!  

Nature’s Internet

19 Wednesday Sep 2012

Posted by Lesley Irene Shore in Nature

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Earth, Gaia, Gratitude, Grounding, Interconnection, Love, Mushroom, Mycelia, Prayer, Roots, Transformation, Walk, Web

I leave for my walk hoping that it will help calm my mind and still the energy swirling inside me.  Following my usual route, I cross the pond and head into the woods.  The trail leads me upstream of our pond, and along what used to be the edge of the stream.  This area was recently invaded by beavers who dammed a culvert, then extended their dam to create a huge expanse of water.  One of my neighbors, impressed by its size, called it a beaver lake.

After walking along the banks of this now beaver lake, I head up a small hill, circle back along another trail, turn left and climb upward.  Arriving at a flat area, I walk to a large rock outcropping, where I stop to pray.

My prayer begins with gratitude; I give thanks for the many blessings in my life.  Digging deep into my heart, I express my sense of going round and around in circles, of feeling ungrounded.  I ask for help, for guidance on where to go next. 

Finishing my prayer, I bow my head, then amble toward a large oak tree growing in the middle of large rocky outcroppings.  After circling the tree, I stand and calmly look around, inhaling the view. 

My eyes suddenly zoom in on a bright yellow patch growing out of the trunk of a fallen oak tree.  Unable to suppress my excitement, I exclaim aloud, “Wow!  That looks like a chicken mushroom.”

I walk over for a closer look, and confirm my initial impression.  Yes, it’s unmistakably a chicken mushroom – one of my favorite mushrooms to eat.  Like most edible mushrooms, it also has medicinal benefits.

Staring at the beautiful mushroom, I think about the mycelium growing underground, for a mushroom is the fruiting body of this web-like network of cells.  Mycelia are our planet’s great recyclers, transforming “dead” trees and other matter (even toxic waste) into vibrant, nutrient rich soil. 

Mushroom guru Paul Stamets considers mycelium to be the neurological network of nature, for these membranes are in constant molecular communication with their environment. They not only sense what is going on around them, they respond accordingly. 

Mycelia comprise Earth’s underground communication system.  Vast mycelia networks enable trees and plants to communicate with one another.  They serve as nature’s internet. 

My recollection of Stamets’s teachings comes to a close.  Caressing Chicken Mushroom’s thick, velvety flesh, I admire her luminescent orange-yellow color while my nose moves closer to sniff her delicious aroma.  Inhaling her essence, I ask whether she would be willing to let us eat her for dinner.  Receiving what I take to be an affirmative response, I bid Chicken Mushroom a temporary farewell, for I intend to return later with a knife and basket for harvesting. 

Resuming my walk, I feel grateful for this reminder of interconnection.  As my feet make contact with the ground, I sense my roots descending into earth, connecting with the web-of-life immediately below.  Feeling deeply grounded, focused and calm, I tap into Gaia and send her my love. 

 

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

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Recent Posts

  • We Must Never Forget
  • Survivor Tree
  • Witch Hazel
  • Nature’s Fury
  • Community

Categories

  • Aging
  • Elderhood
  • Fox Hill Village
  • Growing
  • Healing
  • Land
  • Nature
  • Spiritual
  • Whole

Archives

  • November 2018
  • January 2018
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • November 2014
  • November 2013
  • May 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013
  • January 2013
  • December 2012
  • November 2012
  • October 2012
  • September 2012
  • August 2012
  • June 2012
  • May 2012
  • April 2012
  • March 2012
  • February 2012
  • January 2012
  • December 2011

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Blog at WordPress.com.

Cancel