History As Story-Telling

 

   my digital music composition ‘The Prejudices of Geography’

How we love our Stories,

Old and New,

even with Facts and Fictions

mingled too-

Histories, Hi Stories,

both False and True.

What to Believe? What Not?

Do we Question? Or Not?

Bright ones Dare. Most do Not.

Our Storytellers know

to Repeat…Repeat…Repeat…

Our Story Writers know

their Power…Power…Power…

How we love our Stories,

Old and New,

even with Facts and Fictions

mingled too-

Histories, Hi Stories,

both False and True.

Fragile Thread


Fragile Thread (my digital composition)

fragile_thread

Thoughts of you come to mind. I wonder how you are.
We haven’t communicated in so long. Too much time and distance…
I sit by the patio door, now open, with a cup of tea resting on the table by my chair.
I am silent and quietly aware.
A gentle breeze flows in. I know its presence through my chilled skin
and the sight of leaves shivering on the vine and shrubs outside.
Now sunlight informs me of a fragile spider thread. It’s attached to the vine at one end
but no longer connected at the other.
Fascinated, I watch this fragile thread as the breeze lifts and carries it directly to me.
Ah, I see!

short story by

Shelley Wilson
July, 2014

 

May your Spirit shine brightly, Shelley

Gallstones

Gallstones
“You won’t like the taste!” warned the old woman. There was compassion and a hint of laughter in her eyes as her lips formed a wry smile remembering the remedy.
Am I crazy and is she a quack? I thought. Desperate people do desperate things, I mused philosophically.
The chronic pain had become unbearable. Every joy in life had dissolved in that pain. I’d finally seen a Surgeon. Gallbladder removal. A common procedure. Surgery in a few weeks. The office would call with the date and time. I thanked the Doctor, shook his hand and placed my hand over the pain and prayed. God help me!
“Okay” I said to this obviously amused woman offering me a simple solution to the pain. “It’s harmless,” she said quietly. Then her expression swiftly changed.
As she began giving me the instructions, I started to wonder if she had a military background. Do this. Do this. Do this. Did I have to poop on command too? I wondered.
“Okay. Okay. I’m listening,” I said reluctantly.
“This is how you purge gallstones without surgery,” she began again. “Make sure you choose two days with nothing else on the agenda, so get what you’ll need beforehand.”
“You’ll find a pint jar with a lid- as well as a jar big enough to hold three cups of water and four tablespoons of Epsom Salts. Don’t get the Epsom Bath Salts! You’ll have to find the Epsom Salts for internal use. Remember that!”
“You’ll need a bottle of extra light virgin Olive Oil. The good stuff. Don’t be cheap. You’ll also buy two fresh pink Grapefruit. Only fresh will do.”
“Oh yes,” she said with a funny smile, “you’ll probably want either a few slices of lemon or a sweet lollipop to treat your tastebuds.” My mouth soured and I swallowed the thought.
“So, are you willing to give it a go?” she asked in her military voice. The pain replied “Yes!”
“Well then. You start your first day with a no fat breakfast and lunch. No fat!” she commanded.
“Do not eat or drink after 2 p.m. Don’t cheat. This is important!” she stressed.
“Get the Epsom Salts drink ready. Mix four tablespoons with three cups of water in a well cleaned jar. This makes four measured servings of three-quarters of a cup each. Put the jar in the fridge to get cold.”
Well at least she’s talking in measurements and hours I can easily understand! I said in private conversation with myself.
“At precisely 6 p.m. drink one serving of the water and Epsom Salts. You may want to lick that lollipop or lemon slice then,” she said with a chuckle.
Pointing her right index finger to an invisible chalkboard, she read, “the Olive Oil and Grapefruit should be sitting out on the counter for later.”
“At 7 and 8 p.m. quickly drink another three-quarter cup serving. Timing is critical for success, so don’t be more than 10 minutes early or late!” she ordered.
I looked at the invisible chalkboard where this strategic plan was clearly outlined in crisp white chalk. I can do this! I told myself.
“At 9:45 p.m. you’ll pour a measured half-cup of the Olive Oil into the clean pint jar. You’ll squeeze the pink Grapefruit by hand into the measuring cup. Remove the pulp with a fork. You should have at least a half-cup to three-quarters cup of juice. Add this to the Olive Oil. Close the jar lid tightly and shake hard until it all becomes watery. Only fresh Grapefruit juice will do this,” she noted.
Yuck! I said to myself, feeling a little nauseous. Why was surgery suddenly looking more desirable?!
“Visit the bathroom, but don’t be more than 15 minutes late for the 10 p.m. drink she commanded again.
“At 10 p.m. drink the Olive Oil and Grapefruit mixture you’ve just made. You must be standing up to do this. Don’t laugh! Drink it down within 5 minutes. Then lie down immediately. You might fail to get the gallstones out if you don’t. The sooner you lie down, the more stones you’ll purge, so be ready for bed ahead of time. Try to keep perfectly still for at least 20 minutes. Go to sleep,” she commanded yet again. I almost shouted, “Yes Sir!” as my body stiffened.
She pushed on. “Upon awakening the next morning, you’ll take your last dose of the Epsom Salts drink. You may go back to bed. After two more hours you may eat. Start with fruit juice. Half an hour later, eat fruit. One hour later, you may eat regular food but keep it light. By supper you should be fully recovered,” she said light-heartedly. I sighed in relief.
“Expect diarrhea in the morning. Don’t be shy! Have a look. Gallstones are green and float because of the cholesterol in them or form as calcified stones in shades of brown. Sometimes the bile ducts are also full of cholesterol crystals, tan coloured. They look like floating ‘chaff’. Cleansing this ‘chaff’ is just as important as purging the gallstones. You’re also cleansing the liver at the same time, by the way. No surgeries. Minor discomfort. Congratulations!” she said triumphantly.
“Okay…” I said slowly and decisively. What’s to lose…I thought…a body part or a few hours of taste-bud torture. “Okay.”
So now I am “Okay”. It worked!! And maybe next year…

Short story by
Shelley Wilson
July 2014

 

May your Spirit shine brightly, Shelley

To Bee Or Not To Bee

To Bee Or Not To Bee
I had supper in the screenhouse outside with Cynthia, Chelsea, and Mom. Just after we finished eating, a large bumblebee flew into the tent in the middle of our conversation about personally experiencing ‘claustrophobia’. The bee buzzed around the walls of the tent looking for a way back out. Did it feel a little ‘claustrophobic’ in there? I wondered. Someone said “Kill it!” as they evacuated for fear of being stung. I stayed, saying “No, don’t kill a bee. We need them!” In a few minutes it found its way back out, no doubt due to my coaxing directions. ha ha Then everyone re-entered the tent and sat down. I was overcome with a wave of tiredness, so excused myself for a nap. A few hours later, I awakened in a remarkable state of awareness. I was lying on my side. I felt like my head and neck were plugged into a high voltage energy source that increased in intensity and sound volume as I accepted the experience with gratitude. I can only compare the sound to the buzzing of countless bees. It was most peculiar!!! This was different from my meditation experiences of blissful ecstasy. What could it bee??? Talk about ‘getting a buzz’!!! ha ha I wonder if this is what the bees hear when they get together??? I thanked the bumblebee for its unexpected visit.
(May 3, 2006)

An Old Photograph

An Old Photograph
 
An old photograph resurfaced after many years in my closet ‘Collection of Artifacts and a Myriad Mysteries’. It was a picture I took of my husband, Roger, and our two children, Alissa and Aaron, both in their pre-teens.
There was nothing extraordinary or ‘special’ about our little family, but now and then we glimpsed the special magic of Nature. Perhaps it was just our receptive appreciation of Nature that often attracted messengers of the wilderness into our lives.
Looking at that photo, I recalled the journey of that first of July, ‘Canada Day’. My memory became more vivid, feeling the sizzling heat of the day and my aching muscles as we winched and coaxed our aluminum boat and fishing gear up the challenging portage. It was a slow, exhausting process that grounded our visions of carefree relaxation floating on the lake beyond. We all pitched in to make it through that frustrating, mosquito-annoying, hot and arduous struggle. I remember taking sips of cold water mixed with my sweat and a little fly-repellant, and being just too tired to care. I remember thinking The Eternal Question—‘Why are we here?’ Then, free of the hill and burden of ‘details’ we’d brought, we were finally back on water enjoying the luxury of a working outboard-motor. As we sped along, I thanked God for the millionth time and all the ingenious humans who’d ever invented labour-saving machinery. I have never been sophisticated enough to take such things for granted.
An hour or so later of cooling breeze and boat vibrations, we decided that we’d ‘arrived’ at our unknown destination. The lightened cooler was opened once again, and we hungrily devoured our sandwiches. Mine also had the added flavours of sweat and fly-dope and fish bait. I can taste the memory even now.
Shortly after our meal was eaten and our bait was put to work, we had a visit from an unexpected guest. A messenger of Nature surfaced near our boat to thrill us with a clearly communicating display, soundly slapping its large, flat tail on the water. Everything is truly the meaning one gives to it, and from our welcoming perspective we interpreted the warning sign to be the ‘Canada Day Beaver’s Salute’. The timing was perfect! We had worked so hard to get to that ‘special place’ of quiet peace and floating freedom, like the beaver who ‘greeted’ us. I understood the natural warning of ‘Don’t anyone even think of taking these values away from this place!’ That’s when beavers shape-shift into fighting creatures much more aggressive and fierce. A sanctuary of peace and freedom is what Canadian families, and so many individual Canadians, have worked so hard to create, to continually maintain, and to gratefully enjoy. We salute all who share such values and warn those who don’t.
Then I thought, recalling that extraordinary/ordinary event on ‘Canada Day’—‘For however long we Canadians choose to unite as a country, may Canada’s national pride aways be tempered by a healthy humility as it grows to be a co-creator of a higher vision of World Unity. That isn’t too much for any Global Citizen to hope for, n’est-ce pas?’
I placed the old photograph back into my closet ‘Collection of Artifacts and a Myriad Mysteries’ with a wistful smile.
April 27, 2006