The Sound of Healing

I enter the stall slowly and approach the foal. She is already lying down, weary from her day's struggle. I have watched her walk, and with each step, she involuntarily flinches. I cringe inside whenever I see it. As I put my hands near her, I feel her jagged energy field and the effects of the trauma on her nervous system. I cannot touch her, for she is too sensitive. So I let my hands hover near her pain, feeling the blockages. I capture the edges of the pain and draw it down from its start near her shoulders to her deformed knees, and eventually down to her hoofs. The energetic leg is straight, I can see it. The perfect leg of the Spirit Horse is straight. But the legs in this earth plane are bent and wounded. Her eyes close and her head nods hypnotically. She recognizes this aura around her as good and she submits. I sing some notes that come from me without warning. They are deep and haunting. My husband, who is a musician, tells me later that they are the notes of a 'minor third,' and that all mothers the world over sing these same notes to soothe their babies.

During the healing, I am in a sacred zone outside of myself, utterly present and totally awake to the voice that guides me. I am amazed, not at myself, but at the sublime sweetness of the gift I am receiving, which is twofold - the trust of this foal, and the flowing through me of the energy of the Great Healer.

My Version of Summer in the Hamptons

My version of summer in the Hamptons ... dragonflies flitting in the sunshine, bats swooping at dusk, turtle visitors in the moss garden, screech owls calling for mates at night, yellow jackets in the compost heap, pond lilies that know to close their petals when the sun goes down and reopen them again at dawn, and a precious month old filly with braces on her legs accepting healing, biting and sucking at any part of me within reach, her head in my lap, as I crouch in her stall, covered with hay and flies, my hands listening to her body's needs, praying for her recovery and knowing I have to let go. But I still wish, really really hard, that I will see her grow up and run free.