Time for a neck rub darling

I read a little factoid from which we all could benefit.

Researchers at Brigham Young University in Utah selected two groups of married women between the ages of 20 and 39 to take part in a study on the effects of touch as a healing tool.

One group was given half-hour massages ( primarily covering the head, neck and forehead) by their spouses three times a week. The women who received the massage produced close to twice the level of the hormone oxytocin as the control group who didn't receive massages. Oxytocin reduces stress indicators in the blood and lowers blood pressure. It also promotes bonding between partners. The bonus was that the men in the study who received massages from their wives experienced the same results as the women. The study covered 34 couples and was lead by biochemist Daniel Simmons.

I believe that many people have experienced the benefits loving touch but it is a landmark to show that blood chemistry and other physical responses demonstrate that our insincts are accurate.

Good and evil grow up together and are bound in an equilibrium that cannot be sundered. The most we can do is try to tilt the equilibrium toward the good.

Eric Hoffer, philosopher/author (1902-1983)

Well deer, its luxury living this year

Deer heart, wish you were here.....

The frequent summer rains have made the trees, grasses and other vegetation on our acreage exceptionally lush this year.

One young deer in particular comes often to dine off our bounty.

She is completely unafraid of our presence. In fact, I think she often comes just to pose for Rob, our in-house photographer. Her coat is as sleek as I have ever seen on a deer in the wild. She looks almost groomed.

Well, one little drink won't hurt

One of the great privileges of living where we do, is the close contact we have with nature. There is something very special about having a wild animal, be it deer or squirrel, come up to the deck to greet us when we have our evening glass of wine.

To encourage these creatures, we keep the about two thirds of the property in wild grass. We also have more than 100 trees and shrubs to provide food and shelter. At certain times of the year we are visited by flocks of migrating birds and of course, we have our special birdie buddies who stay with us year round.

At night we are sung to sleep by the coyotes.

We are truly blessed.


Out for an evening stroll

Prayer Flight

I read today about a group of 50 rabbis and Kabbalah mystics who have taken spiritual action to protect Israel from the devastating effects of the h1n1 virus. The holy men circled Israel in a chartered plane offering prayers for the abolishing illness. An integral part of the ceremony was the blowing of ram's horns (shofar) seven times. It is said that shofars were first used by the Jews to bring down the walls of Jericho for centuries the horns have been used to make high moments in the Judaic life such as introducing the arrival of the new year, signalling the Shabbat which is the Jewish holy day and ending the fast at Yom Kippur.

I was awed by the faith of these religious people that they would re-enact an ancient battle tactic as described in the Torah to fight a tiny enemy that destroys from within one's self and believe that in marking this ritual, God would stop the progress of the disease.

I wonder though, if their prayers would truly please the creator of all things when the scope of the prayer seemed to focus on only one small nation in a threatened world. I am making this assumption because the three previous prayer flights were very precisely calculated: to protect Israel from invasion by the Nazi's in 1948, the second to prevent action against the country during the Gulf war and the third to avert a wave of terrorist attacks in 1996.

Perhaps I am a petty theologian but it seems to me that a chorus of universal prayer blanketing our world would be more pleasing the creator that the prayers so many offer that are so focused on the self.

Happy Anniversary Don and Jean

Yesterday was my aunt and uncle's 55th wedding anniversary. Congratulations to you both.

Love takes many forms but the fulfillment of a lifetime of partnership is perhaps one of the most challenging and most rewarding.

My aunt asked in a recent email what I remembered about that day. I was surprised by how much I did recall.

I remember the smooth feel of the fabric in the stylish little dress I wore. There was a delicate rustle when I moved. My mind has made the colour of the tiny confection pale lilac but that is not too certain. I know I had new white shoes with straps and shiny buckles. They were a little stiff and made my toes clump on the ground.

I remember the smell of flowers and that Aunt Jean's red hair glowed like soft flower petals. She wore a dress that made her look like the princess from England.

I remember Uncle Don giving me a hug. And Dad holding me in his arms when I became upset with excitement. I also remember lots of noisy old people (of course at 4 everyone is old!). And there was Grandad Catton smelling of cigarettes and laughing with some of his cronies. Grandma Catton had powder on her face which made her skin look like exotic velvet and she smelled of lily of the valley. I seem to remember a veil on her hat. I think my mother wore a navy blue dress but that may be from another time.

Not a very romantic recollections perhaps but certainly evocative of a family celebration. Family imprints a wealth of images on tender little hearts. We must remember this...We are the artists who make memories on those delicate canvases. Only our best and most loving actions will do.

Blessings on Uncle Don and Aunt Jean. May your love carry you forward with joy.

On the Wings of Spring

Spring Forecasting, Nature's Way

There is a warm breeze blowing today and the temperature has reached -4 Celsius. This a luxurious break after a week when the temperatures were running below -30.

Although the days have been filled with brittle cold we have been given signs that winter will be moving on. For the past two weeks we have been host to large flocks of bohemian wax wings. They love the berries that grow on our saskatoon berry, sand cherry, pin cherry, sour cherry and elder bushes. The waxwings prefer their delicacies freeze-dried it seems. The older and darker the fruit, the happier they are to consume it. Despite the sophisticated masks, this contingent of feathered creatures wear, they are more mischievous than mysterious.

The elegant athletes of Cirque du Soleil would be envious of the way these silk and velvet bohemians move through the air and pattern the blue spring skies. The rrapturous visual fantasy is however given an edge by their twittering conversations. So much to say and so little time to say it.....

These acreage guests are a curious lot. All week I have been lugging junk items out to the truck to take to the dump. Every time I struggle out the door with another load they gather in gleeful gales and swirl above my head. They are delighted by the entertainment I provide and return the favor by breaking off in ballet troupes each dancing skyward to a different symphony.

Rob is as enchanted by these lovely birds as I. The pictures you see in today's blog are a small sampling of the shots he took while waiting for supper one evening. It was actually amusing to watch them settle themselves for their portraits. It is evident that they are a little vain, but then when you look so fine can blame you.

A Tribe of Ancients

A friend, Bill Garner fashioned a whimsical tribe of ancients last year. Full of wild energy and unpredictable forms, they inspired me to write the following little story.

How the Westerlings came to be

The Ancients tell us that of all his wondrous store, the treasure most highly prized by the powerful Norse god, Thor, was a crystal which held all the tales ever told and ever to be told by the people of the earth.

One day Loki, Thor’s flame-haired, trickster brother, stole the crystal from its place of honour. Thor saw him sneaking away with the crystal in his arms. Angered beyond control, Thor raised Mjööllnir, his mighty hammer and hurled it at his thieving brother. Loki, ever nimble, used the Lore crystal to shield himself from the blow. Loki escaped unharmed but the crystal was shattered into dust. So forceful was Thor’s strike, that the sparkling grains were blasted across the northern oceans and fell upon the plains and forests in the heart of the New World.

The nomads of the plains and woodlands saw the shining veil of dust float to earth and were entranced. They named the gleaming drifts ‘the snow that does not melt’. Drawn by the mystical power of crystal remnants, each placed a generous sprinkling of the powder into the sacred medicine bags which hung about their necks. Loki laughed with delight when he saw this.

While the nomads slept, he enchanted the crystal remains. Through his spell, each grain of sparkling dust drew a little soul-strength from the sleepers. It took on aspects of their love, hate, serenity, anger, wisdom and ignorance. These tiny souls then drew upon the objects in the medicine bags to give themselves form. When the moon began to fade, they crept from the bags and silently began their journeys throughout the western lands. In this way the Westerlings came into being.