Wednesday, July 23, 2003
Sweet Torture . . .
I've just commited myself to losing these dang fifteen pounds that are hanging out around my middle, my thighs, my upper arms, under my chin. I've lost close to fifty pounds of fat the past three years and that's great and all, but I still have more to go and it's going to take work.
My teaching schedule is going to be quiet over the next six weeks and so my job is going to be getting my body strongly on the road back into luscious, lean shape through nutrition and exercise. The plan of action:
* four days a week of strength/resistance training with 30-45 minutes of cardio afterwards
* two yoga classes a week
* three rollerblading sessions a week at 6 miles in a half hour.
* continue my practices of meditation and chi gong for an hour each morning
* do a five day fast to clean my body out and then move on to eating only clean, fresh, natural foods (nothing processed or with chemicals, only fish or organic poultry, eggs, or fresh goat cheese for animal protein) for at least two weeks afterwards.
* really take advantage of the expertise of my friends and colleagues by asking questions, getting support, bartering bodywork sessions, etc.
* make a lot of love :)
Sounds like a plan, huh? I'll keep you posted . . .
posted by Katherine at 7/23/2003 08:54:46 AM
Friday, July 11, 2003
Lost and Found
Last Saturday I got lost in the woods. Not la-la-la-lost, but 10-hours in the wilderness, ran out of water, absolutely alone, no one knows where I am, don't even know where the freak I am lost.
It started out innocently enough. I decided I'd head up to Sam's Point and check out the ice caves and waterfall and perhaps do a few mile hike. I usually call Kelly to let her know where I'm going to be but I figured I'd only be gone for a few hours so I threw some food, water, and other last minute things into a backpack, tied my hair up in braids, and hit the road to Cragsmore.
Two hours later found me walking along what appeared to be an old carriage road. I'd picked up a map of the trail at the Visitor's Center and had decided to take the long way around - about 8 or 9 miles - and see the caves and waterfall at the end of a nice, brisk hike. I stopped and picked wild blueberries and hung out on a huge rock that overlooked Minnewaska State Park. I was about 6 miles in when I ran into trouble.
The trail had gotten progressively funkier and funkier until the only way I could follow the trail was to walk forward slowly and feel the slight tunnel in front of my feet in the tangle of dense shrub and brush that makes up what the map called "the dwarf pine barrens". Trees were about 4-6 feet tall and the rather than the fairly open space of a regular forest, the underbrush was about two feet tall and tightly packed. The trail often opened onto large stretches of rocks and the trail would be marked with a blue swatch where the rock ended and the "trail" through the brush began.
As the going got rougher I began to get lost more and more often. Sometimes fallen trees obscured the already sketchy trail and other times the markers just weren't there anymore. I thought about going back but didn't feel that I had the strength to backtrack the 6 miles I'd already put in and I was running out of water. I kept going. And kept getting lost, though each time I'd go over and over the area until I again found the way forward.
Then I made the classic mistake: I left the trail. I had spent close to an hour looking for the forward trail marker and in a flash of impatience and arrogance, I decided to just push ahead and trust that I would stumble upon the trail as I moved forward.
Two hours later, my legs bleeding and torn from the underbrush, my water supply gone, not a soul in sight, I reached an opening and looked out over acres and acres of utter wilderness, not a single manmade sign in sight. And in that moment I realized: I am seriously lost.
For a while I toyed with the idea that someone would come looking for me, that if I just held tight the police would send a helicopter (!), that I would run into someone, but not having seen anyone since the morning and not having anyone even knowing that I was gone and not being a rich heiress for whom a search by helicopter would be warranted I began to face the realization that I was on my own.
As I followed a dried up stream bed after having been lured down it by the antics of a bird (animal signs! I'd thought) I began to quietly see that what was occurring for me was a metaphor for my life. I've had a lot of things go awry the past few months, everything just sort of falling apart, not working out, changing, shifting, really feeling awful, with no sign of a way out. Feeling dehydration coming on, I walked along the the path created from what used to be a stream and I had this flash that if I wanted to survive both this day and my life I was going to have to try something really different, and I was going to have to ditch the metaphysical signs/feelings/premonitions/wonderings and turn inside of myself for clear, practical possibilities. So I turned around and began walking the other way on the old stream pathway.
Within a couple of miles I came upon a small pool of fairly clear water. For a moment I hesitated, thinking of all of the stories of poisonous microbes and bacteria. But the fact was that it was outrageously hot and humid on the mountain and I was going to be unable to think or walk much very soon if I didn't get water in me. A feeling of great practicality swept over me and without hesitation I stuck my head down and scooped in a few mouthfulls. It was delicious - even the little bits of twigs and funk floating around in it. I pulled out a zip lock bag from my backpack and created a funnel and filled my water bottle.
Next on the agenda were my poor legs. I had hit another dense patch of undergrowth and the pain became unbearable. As I crashed through the dwarf trees and vines and brush it hit me: what was I doing to myself? I stopped and this wave of compassion for myself replaced the driving aggression I'd been feeling (must get out, must get out, must save myself) and I sat down on a rock and took a towel out of my backpack and with the scissor attachment on my Swiss Army knife I made "pants" and tied them on with strips of towel. As I walked on with my legs all cozy and protected I laughed and annointed myself the Female McGuiver of The Dwarf Pine Barrens.
After another mile or so, the sun began to go down far enough for me to be able to see which way was clearly west and so I began to go in a southwesterly direction, hoping for some sort of clue, sign, trail marker. An hour or so after that I found a trail marker, but rather than celebrate, I had this feeling that the hard part was just begining and dug deep inside of me as I realized that I had re-entered the trail fairly close to where I'd left off which meant miles and miles of backtracking and countless round and round searches for trail markers.
I finally made it to the end of the difficult part of the trail and what lay ahead was a slight downslope but very wide, well-marked trail back to the parking lot - about four miles worth.
This was actually the hardest part. At this point my body began to totally give out. I hadn't rested much during the day - for some reason I felt that I had to go on and not stop too much, and the biting black flies and mosquitos encouraged me to do this as well. Now I felt that it was imperative that I press forward and so I did, in spite of all sorts of things that began screaming for stillness: blisters, muscle pulls, insect bites, sunburn, contact rashes from the backpack, aches, and the complaints from various other body parts that had been moved back and forth a few thousand times too many. And just to up the ante, my moon time had started a few miles into the hike with its accompanying cramps and energy whirls.
As I moved along, mile after mile, step, step, step, step, I realized that this is what refugees went through for weeks, months on end. I felt something in me expand, felt a kinship for people who at that very moment were doing the same thing as me. We were walking forward, because no one was going to come in and save us, there were no rescuers, only ourselves, and only forward motion.
As I walked the last quarter mile, I came upon a few boys heading back up the trail with a few six packs and a boom box. As I walked past them I smiled and they looked at me and looked away, then did double takes. I was a mess, and in more pain than I could remember experiencing in years. I asked them how much further to the parking lot and they said "less than 600 feet". Fifteen minutes after I reached my car, the sun went down.
It took me an hour to drive home and to keep myself focused I played the radio and sang along and watched my thoughts as I'd watched them during the day. I thought about how to organize myself so that when I got home I could do the things that I needed to do in order to take care of myself - take ibuprofin, take a bath with antiseptic and healing oils, feed the cats, eat something, cancel my client appointments for the next day, go to bed. I thought about my life here in Chester, and I realized that I have, as Joseph Campbell puts it, fallen off the beam and that it's time that I find that beam again, though I'm not sure where to look yet.
I spent the next couple of days in bed and am now almost totally healed. I feel different somehow, more surrendered to my life, and more grateful, but mostly I feel this quiet recognition that I lost something dense and heavy out there in the wilderness and that I regained some vital sense of aliveness that I lost over last fall.
I wish it weren't so, but Life uses crisis to move us, shift us, shake us out of that crusty, deadening thing we call normalcy. I realized out on that mountain that it isn't about dramatic signs or big awakenings or grand metaphysical metaphors. It's about practical action, and moving forward, and being kind to ourselves when we're in pain.
And so life boogies on and my story is for others just a tale of a chick who got lost while hiking while for me the layers of realization continue to unwind inside of me.
Thank you Life . . . thank you for my life . . . thank you for my life . . .
posted by Katherine at 7/11/2003 03:55:05 PM
Sunday, July 06, 2003
On July 3 at 10:30 p.m., Lilah Grace came into this world at 7lb., 7 ounces with a full head of black hair and Kelly's nose and eyes and Chris's mouth and she was held and smooched and loved and for a few moments all was right in the world.
Lilah saved both she and Kelly's life that night by suddenly shifting from the "birth ready" position of head down that she'd been in for weeks and moving into a sideways slant that rendered natural birth impossible and also showed that there had been a hidden problem with the placenta that her birth ready position had masked. Had Lilah not moved when she did, serious things would have been set into motion. As it happened, an emergency c-section was performed and both mamma and baby are happy and resting and healthy.
Thank you, thank you, thank you Life :)
posted by Katherine at 7/6/2003 11:31:06 AM
Sunday, June 29, 2003
Best of the Best
My best friend Kelly is pregnant. Very pregnant. At the moment she is in the hospital, her blood pressure is high, and the arrival of Fetus, as I have come to call him/her is imminent. Last night I brought two big boxes of popsicles and a copy of The Blue Collar Comedy Tour and she, her man Chris, and I sat in her room with the door closed and howled. Laughter really is dang good medicine.
I logged on to say something Deep And Profound about my friend or our friendship or the fetus that's twirling around in her belly, but I see that mostly what I wanted to write is how grateful I am that Life saw fit to bring someone like her into my living, and what a gift its been to run around and do stuff for her, to have the opportunity to show how much I love her, to prove to myself that I can step out of my self-absorption with my own problems and wants and just do for another knowing.
This has been such a truly difficult few months, but I have learned who I am out of this, some scary things, some awful, some just basically good. I keep thinking about what crisis means, and how it is something that comes crashing into our lives, seeming to destroy the things we've worked so hard to believe in, to create, to keep in motion. But crisis really is just Life smashing our current container so that we can grow into a container that is larger, because the universe is vast, and if we're to hold even a fraction of it we must expand.
As Chris and I walked out of the hospital together last night he said to me, "You are a good friend to her".
"She's the best friend I've ever had," I said. "And because of what's gone on with her the past few weeks, I've gotten to spend lots of time with her, and that's made me happy."
And it has. With all that's gone on in my world lately, it has been sweet relief to see proof that I have been a good friend to my friend who has always been good to me.
Fetus should be making his way into the world any day now . . . I'll keep you posted . . .
posted by Katherine at 6/29/2003 09:24:15 AM
Thursday, June 12, 2003
How A Bangladesh Granola Girl Parties:
Cover self in sparkly things. Down a kava kava/ valerian tincture cocktail to deal with anxiety of going to party alone. Go to Freestyle Frolic in New Paltz which is alcohol-smoke-drug free and where people take off their shoes and dance to music you just don't ever hear on the radio. Wear snow boots even though its not snowing because you have a premonition that you should and then praise the psychic vibe when you spend ten minutes wading through ankle deep mud in the "parking lot" to get to high ground. Spend the next three hours dancing until you look like a joyful, sweaty mermaid. Eat almonds and drink herbal iced tea. Leave at midnight before the end of the illustrious DJ Haj's set because you have an hour drive home and you want to arrive with enough energy to take a bath before you go to bed . . .
posted by Katherine at 6/12/2003 10:31:32 AM
Saturday, June 07, 2003
I'm going out dancing tonight. I put on glitter dust, sparkly clothes, made my hair all curly. Girl stuff. I need to feel like a girl tonight. A sparkly girl. And I need to get my groove on. I need to hear some Afro Celt Soundsystem or some Buddha Lounge and feel that luscious juicalicious oh-yeah as the groove of the tunes and the groove of the tribe and the groove inside of me all fall into place and I know that life is very, very sweet. Sure, life is always good, but tonight I very much could use some reminding . . .
posted by Katherine at 6/7/2003 07:42:49 PM
Thursday, May 22, 2003
Miracles: Part 1
Miracles have been on my mind a lot lately. Mostly because I've been noticing how many of them have been appearing in my life lately, but also because I'm becoming more and more aware of just how crucial a role I play in the manifesting of them. Even as some sort of realization around the absurdity of the notion of "control" is making itself known . . .
First off, "miracle" is such a stuffy word. Biblical almost - like something that happens to someone in a book or someone delusional or really loose and generous with an interpretation of an event. It also seems impersonal somehow, and when one is occurring it always feels very sweet and personal, like someone I love has just stroked my face and smiled into my eyes. "Blessing" sort of seems the same to me, but with a righteous feel to it, a sort of entitlement thing, which I don't believe is true. These miracles, these blessings, seem to me to be simply openings, as in: I unclenched the fist that encircles my heart and for a few brief moments, the infinite sun that resides in there let loose a few rays out into the world and the world mirrored them back to me. For a moment I feel joyous and also humbled. And for a few more moments I am surrendered to this magic made manifest in this usually intense business of living, and my usual inner rigidity against the world relaxes and everything fits and makes sense and is beautiful and calm.
There have been several lately in my life. My car broke down and as I was pushing my car around the parking lot in an attempt to start it, my favorite mechanic from my garage showed up in a tow truck and got the car started for me. I got offered a job that was too good to turn down and it turned into a nightmare - cremetorium next door, angry/judgemental boss, tangled snarl of a work flow - and just when I was at wits end about what to do the project I was hired to do got shelved and I got let go - with a month's severance - so I essentially worked two weeks for six weeks of money and discovered that I really really really like being my own boss :) And out of the vacuum of work that that left, more holistic work, teaching and training work came flowing in and I'm busy and useful again doing the things that I love . . .
To Be Continued . . .
posted by Katherine at 5/22/2003 12:26:50 PM
Thursday, May 08, 2003
Every morning, after I tend to the kitties, brew my morning tea, and finish my practices, I make my seriously nasty herbal concoction and toss it back like a shot of tequila. I have this ritual I do to get it down: I take a deep breath, I clench my toes, and as the herbs go down, I try not to breathe through my nose. It works pretty well, but it's not like I ever look forward to it or anything. So why do I do it? Because it's good for me of course :)
The world that we live in is pretty toxic, and we all know this intellectually, but most of us have some resistance for one reason or another to really doing something about it in our own bodies. If you look at your home, and you see what it takes each week to keep it relatively clean, and then you picture what it would be like to go for years on end without really cleaning it, and then picture if you lived beside an oil refinery plant or beside fields of black dirt that blew around when the wind was dry, what would your house look like?
I don't know about you, but I don't enjoy cleaning very much, but I sure do love a clean house. And so every morning you can find me standing by my sink, sucking down a big glass of brown and green stuff with a fistful of capsules, knowing that I'm really just feng shui-ing my body . . .
At any given time I'm taking five to ten different herbal, vitamin, mineral supplements. The general rule for supplements is that you want to take them for six days, then give your body a one day rest from them, a chance for it to rally its own power after getting that assistance for six days. Duration of taking the herbs varies depending on what I'm working on and how I'm feeling, though another general rule is one month for every year of a chronic problem.
Okay, so here's how the morning concoction gets made: I take a glass of distilled water and add my liquid multi-vitamin (called Liquid Health) that has vitamins, minerals, anti-oxidants, amino acids, and some herbs for general well-being and energy. Liquid vitamins are best because they can be absorbed in both the stomach and the intestines and also liquids are more easy to break down and be absorbed than a hard tablet or capsule. Next I add in two droppers full of the following: Thistle Cleanse (an excellent detoxifier for the liver), Dandelion root (extra liver cleansing and diuretic), and Astragalus (which helps build up energy and the immune system, and helps balance the spleen, kidneys, lungs, and blood). Next I add in two different powders: Maca root (a Peruvian herb that helps balance the endocrine system and keeps my PMS and moon time from turning me into a frothing fiendess), and Gene’s Greens (a whole foods and herbs concentrate that has all sorts of things like spirulina, barley and wheat grass, and alfalfa in it). This gets stirred up and washes down these capsules: Garlinaise (a powerful immune booster and natural antibiotic), Olive Leaf (also very good for the immune system) and Omega EFA 3-6-9 (great for skin, the immune system, weight loss, and cholesterol). At night I also take most of these again along with psyllium powder to help overnight with colon cleansing.
Yeah. This is a lot of stuff for one person to take, and I wouldn't suggest anyone taking a lot of different things to start with. It's best to start slowly and build up so that your body has time and energy to adjust and make the shifts it needs to in order to support the changes that are going to occur. I'm not an herbalist and I can't prescribe (I have to say that :) but a good suggestion would be to start with a liquid multi-vitamin/mineral/herb and Thistle Cleanse or another liver detox, and then choose an organ or problem you have and take an herb or herbal blend that addresses it. It's also a very good idea to take something to cleanse your colon. Ultimate Cleanse is a really great product and things will be coming out that you will be grateful are not still in you. With all of the KFC, ice cream, pizza, and french fries most of us have consumed, the colon can be a scary, scary place.
May this find that all is well in your world . . . and that you are connecting to the well-being inside of you . . .
posted by Katherine at 5/8/2003 10:36:32 AM
Friday, April 25, 2003
I experienced something extraordinary last week. On Easter, I was reborn. I didn't mean to, and I certainly didn't plan it, but when the sun went down on Sunday, I went to sleep knowing that I'd been given another chance at life . . .
It started quietly enough. I had gone to have another healing session with a Native American elder that I had met the month before. My experience of Grandfather Albert was that there was something vibrant and very alive about him, something that my body and heart perceived as unwavering, genuine, an acknowledgment in him that Life is good, even as living can be treacherous. He was a man of truth, and that being a rare thing, I felt drawn to be around him again. So I set up an appointment and then drove the hour up to see him on Saturday.
Our session the month before had run close to two hours. This time, about fifteen minutes in, he said that what would be helpful for me was a sweat lodge, that there were things that I needed to release and that the lodge was the place to do it in.
"Oh, yes. I'd love to do a sweat lodge. Just let me know when you are having one and I'll come."
He paused and looked at me. "So, you are asking for a sweat?" he asked, and I nodded. "How about tomorrow?"
That caught me off guard. I had a hundred things going on. I had a lot of plans for the next couple of days. But a sweat lodge. . . Who knew when I’d next get the opportunity to do a sweat? "What time?" I asked, and he said to come around nine or ten and to speak to Sheron about the details.
By the time I left a half hour later, I was on a mission: prepare for my sweat lodge. There was cloth to buy. Six yards of it. Red, white, green, blue, black, and yellow. Preferably cotton. And tobacco. A big bag, divided into four baggies. There were all sorts of things that I had Sheron repeat to me a few times each as I tried to remember them all: always walk clockwise, wear a skirt, don't sit crosslegged, choose one of the colored pieces of cloth, wrap a bag of tobacco in it and offer it to Albert and say: this is for my healing, before that meditate on what my healing is to be around, sit with the tobacco and place my problems, my suffering in the tobacco. Give the tobacco away, first to Albert, then to Diane, another elder, and then into the fire standing one by one in all directions.
I went out dancing with some friends that night, drove home, got five hours of sleep, and then headed back up to Rosendale. Albert was out splitting logs for the sweat lodge fire. The others were in back putting together the lodge. Saplings had been cut down and one by one they were inserted into the ground in a circle and then woven together with their own branches and pieces of string. A hole in the center was filled with rocks from the previous lodge and I picked them up one by one and flung them into the lake, making way for the new "grandfather rocks" to come. Blankets, about fifty of them, were placed on top of the saplings, and the ground inside was lined with straw and sheets. A few feet away a fire was built and rocks were placed inside of it to get red hot for the sweat.
One by one the five of us attending the sweat sat with Albert and then Diane and spoke about what we needed healing around. We offered tobacco, we meditated, we walked the four spokes of the wheel around the fire and said our prayers. I felt nervous, there was so much ritual and ceremony that I didn't understand - ways of doing things in certain orders and with certain words and so many of them that my brain curled in on itself again and again as I tried to remember them all.
As the youngest attending the sweat, my job was to dust the ash off the rocks as the fire keeper picked them up one by one with a pitchfork and placed them in the hole in the ground in the center of the lodge. "It’s very important not to drop any of the rocks," I was told. And in my zeal to whack the ash off I bonked one and it toppled into the dirt, even as the firekeeper valiantly tried to keep it aloft. As I went to meditate and throw my tobacco into the fire, offering some up to each of the four directions, I got confused and couldn't remember which direction was the eagle or where the grandmothers lived. And then I forgot where I started and just did a couple of extra directions just to be on the safe side. Of course my weasely mind was giving me holy hell about it all until I got this sense that it was all okay, that no one - especially not the people I was with or the Creator Him/Herself was going to be upset with me for not knowing what I was doing - that I could do the best I could and that it would be enough - that I would be forgiven.
Then we crawled into the lodge. It was completely dark. Womb dark. So dark that you couldn't see anything - not yourself, not anyone else, no light or movement. Just black. Grandfather Albert began to speak about healing and prayer, about our ancestors and our place in the world. Something deep inside of my heart began to move, and as the energy in the lodge shifted, something shifted inside of me too. People began chanting to me to let go, to release what was holding onto me, to set down the burden of suffering I was carrying.
I felt confused as to what exactly "letting go" meant - and what exactly was I supposed to let go of, and how exactly did I do that? Frantic monkey mind began to ricochet inside of my head, desperately looking for the right thing to do, to say, to feel, to be. And of course nothing shifted. The energy in the lodge heated up, literally in temperature and in quality of energy and I felt a great pressure inside of myself.
"Ask for help," I heard one of the women say beside me. And so I did.
I said: "God, Life, Spirit, whatever you are, wherever you are, please help me. I have no clue what I’m doing. I am absolutely out of my mind in here. I don't even know what I’m doing in my life. I have tried so many things, I have tried to be decent and good, to live a life that is peaceful and has meaning and I have fallen again and again and again. I have fumbled and failed and fucked up so much. Things fall apart, people leave, all that I love falls away over and over and I just don't know what to do any more. Please help me because I sure as shit don't know what to do to help myself anymore."
And then I was deep inside of myself, deep into my mind, deep into my past, shooting down the birth canal. It was early - I wasn't supposed to be born for another couple of months but I felt so eager that I just felt: Now Is The Time and so I started heading out. I felt the beauty, the safety of the world I was leaving behind, and then in a flash of knowing, I felt the insanity of the world in which I was getting ready to enter. So I put on the breaks and stopped my descent.
"I changed my mind," I said to the void. "I want to go back."
"I’m serious," I said. "I’m not going out into that crazy place. And you can't make me," I added in a defiant tone that set the tone for the years to follow.
Still no answer.
Apparently this went on for a while. Two days in fact, is what I am told it took for my mom and the hospital staff to get me out of her. And then, being born prematurely and so weakened by the labor process, I was put into an incubator for two weeks. My mother was also weakened and exhausted by the whole process and it took her months to get her strength back. And so I lived my life. Having felt betrayed by That Which Sent Me Here and not trusting in or believing in Those Who Were Here With Me.
Then I was back in the lodge and I heard those around me calling to me, crying for me, calling out to The Creator: Help her . . . she didn't know . . . she suffers so much . . . please help her . . . let go, Katherine . . . let it all go . . .
And then there I was in the birth canal again and I got that in that moment I could change everything. I could be born again, get a second chance to do things differently.
"Okay," I said that force of energy that I could feel vibrating somewhere n the edge of my perception. "I’m going to do it. And this time I’m going to do it your way. I’m going to give it all over to you and when I feel stuck or sick or confused or sad I’m going to ask you what to do and then I’m going to do it. Let's do this thing . . . "
And I came squirting down the canal like a vaselined cannonball and two lusty cries burst from deep inside of me. Yes, it was painful to be born. No way around that one. But I was here, and this go around I was going to accept the help being offered to me. I was going to take in the love and support that was all around me . . .
Within seconds the energy in the lodge quieted down. A couple of people groaned with relief. "Good, Katherine, good. We are all glad that you choose to let go. Thank you. By asking for this sweat and then letting go, you help us all to heal. Thank you."
The sweat lodge continued on for another couple of hours and much was learned, much more revealed, some of it intense, much of it light, sweet, gentle, funny. Inside of the bubble, the womb of protection created and held by Albert and the others, all was well, safe. Afterwards we ate stew and talked - not about anything profound or especially deep - just things from our lives. And then it was time to go home.
As I was walking to my car, I turned to my new sweat lodge brother and said: "I feel the same. But different. Do you know what I mean?"
Being the veteran of five sweat lodges with Albert, he smiled and nodded, knowing exactly what I meant. And then I got into my car and drove home.
Of course, I feel drawn to do another sweat. And soon. So even though I knew that Albert's schedule was booked for the next couple of months, I called Sheron, who assists Albert in all that he does, and asked for another one. "How about next weekend?" She said. Oh sweet providence had hooked me up again! And so it looks like another one is going to happen for next weekend - either Friday or Saturday - and if you feel moved to do a sweat with me, give me a call, there's room for about five or so more people.
I can't promise that you’ll be reborn, but if there is something inside of you that is longing for release, Grandfather Albert and his helpers are pure of heart, intent, and ability to assist with healing . . .
posted by Katherine at 4/25/2003 08:57:31 PM