
Everything Is Art


Intersection of Timelines?
The air smelled fresh on a cool but sunny Autumn day in Kirkland Lake. There, the sky can be more beautifully, vibrantly blue than in so many places I’ve been.
That day my husband was working out of the New Liskeard office of a company where he was employed as an insurance claims adjuster. Our teenage children were both at school in Englehart where we lived. I decided to visit my parents’ home in K.L. after experiencing an unusual feeling of nostalgia.
It was a perfect day for family tea and conversation, then a solitary walk through familiar places. I marvelled at the clarity and blueness of the sky as I strolled the same streets I’d walked so many times before. The familiarity of those streets and sidewalks felt so safely ‘comfortable’ and ‘predictable’. I sipped those feelings like a cup of favoured tea as I came to the intersection of three streets close to my former home.
As I began to cross the road, I saw something that remains vivid in memory to this very day.
I stopped to watch as a car drove by. Waiting for a car to go by so as to cross a road without cross walks is nothing out of the ordinary but this was different. As this vehicle slowed down at the intersection, I faced the driver’s side with a clear view of the man driving. He seemed completely oblivious to my presence as I waved enthusiastically to acknowledge my husband at the wheel of that car just a few feet away. I thought ‘How strange! He’s supposed to be in New Liskeard today.’ Just then I noticed that he was wearing a different coloured suit. Gray, not the navy blue suit he wore when he left that morning. ‘Why would he need to change suits?’ The car held a surprise for me too. It was the same make, model, and colour of our car but as it passed I clearly saw that the license plate was not ours!
I stood at that intersection transfixed with overwhelming feelings of bewilderment, and all the ‘what ifs’ of past and present choices speeding through my mind. Years later, after watching the movie ‘What The Bleep Do We Know’ about Quantum Physics, I wondered if I had played the role of ‘the Observer’ witnessing a ‘Timeline’ of different life choices on that truly strange Autumn day. I wonder…
(A true tale that still puzzles the family—Shelley Wilson)
May your Spirit shine brightly, Shelley
Was it fairy dust and magic wands?The Spirit of Trees in the park had called me to a solitary walk among them. I was happily enchanted by their beauty and strength as I walked past or stopped to gaze up and touch them with tenderness and reverence for Life in them. I was about to leave the park when I decided to stop for a drink of my bottled water. As my thirst was quenched, I noticed a grey Squirrel several yards away watching me. I became still and silently observed its fearless, direct approach with fascination. Without hesitation the Squirrel began climbing one of my unmoving legs.
Well, I didn’t plan to become a Tree, but there I was standing silently among the beautiful Trees of a park with a grey Squirrel climbing up my leg. It was clearly intent on reaching my upper limbs and head.
I reacted by swiftly bending to gently stop the Squirrel’s ascent with an offering of bottled water at the level of my knee. The confused creature paused, looked into my smiling eyes, then quickly backed down. It showed no interest in the water as it scampered a few feet away to stare at me curiously.
My body felt immediate and grateful relief from release of the grip of sharp claws. I had imagined a graffiti of scratches on exposed skin of my trunk and face. I began to tremble and chuckle at the same time.
Now two male Mallard Ducks waddled closely before me. One stopped within a few inches of my sandalled feet. He looked up without the slightest sign of fear or caution. Like the Squirrel and I, the Duck stood rooted in silent wonder.
After a brief eternity, the Duck rejoined his companion.
I was amazed. ‘I have no food to offer’ I thought. ‘Why are they acting like this?’
Then I recalled the previous weekend at a ‘Roots’ gathering to support the Ancient Forest Alliance. It was a mix of instructive talks about Nature and Energy, guided meditations, music, forest walks, Tree hugging, sharing perspectives, plant and artisan sales. I bought a bottle of herbal oil mixed with the Spring resin of Poplar buds for medicinal skin care. Applying it with another mixture of cream containing organic Bee products for my face, hands, and feet became part of my daily self-care. ‘Ah, of course, I must smell like a Tree!’ I mused.
This memory led me to pondering about ‘Tree Energy’ in my stroll through Beacon Hill Park. I’d lovingly touched several old Trees with a silent blessing for each. I even asked one Tree to kindly impart some of its ‘Tree Energy’ so as to calm and clear unwanted ’empathic Energies’ I’d recently experienced. A peaceful stillness breezed through me, leaving a grounded and serene visceral feeling. This happened minutes before I encountered Squirrel and Duck. It was ‘medicine’ and ‘communion’ with Nature at the same time. Everything is Energy.
Did I look like a Tree? Well, before I decided on my walk to the park that morning, I chose to wear taupe brown pants, a top coloured with muted shades of green, and a Spruce green vest. They just felt ‘right’ somehow.
Looking back now, I have to laugh. I’d worn Tree colours, Tree scent, and Tree Energy. That’s how I became a Tree.
(Earth Day 2016)
(a true tale)

Sent from Outlook for iPhone
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
You must be logged in to post a comment.