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Parents

Molly’s Healing Touch

The hard packed sand was an invitation Molly was not going to pass up. She waved to her family then sprinted down the beach, cartwheeled back, and with a flourish, threw herself down on the sand into a headstand.

It didn’t matter that it was a cool rainy day, the gusting wind pushing and pulling. She loved the feeling of her lungs filling up with fresh salty air as she tore down the beach. Molly’s parents took her to the beach every chance they got, rain or shine.

Looking around, Molly decided to scavenge for beach treasures. When she wandered up to the grassy area just above the sand, she spotted something intriguing. There was a slightly crooked but very smooth stick. There were some pretty rocks and shells too, worthy of her collection, so she leaned over to stash them in her back pack. But when she picked up the stick, something weird happened.

Her hand started to disappear, then her arm. What was happening?

Before Molly could say, Wait, what? her whole body vanished and she found herself standing in a garden by an ancient stone cottage, quietly picking herbs. And she was a full grown woman! She wore a long simple skirt and apron, and on her feet, the coolest pair of blueberry blue leather boots. Then suddenly, POOF, Morgana took her place.

What was that? Morgana snapped her head around to see a messenger on horseback galloping towards her at high speed, and was alarmed when she recognized the castle emblem.

What did the King need from her?, she wondered, as the rider threw himself off his horse and strode towards her.

“You are Morgana, the Healing Woman.”

It was not a question.

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“The prince is gravely ill and requires your medical attention. It’s a whole day’s ride to the castle so we must dispatch without delay.”

With that, Morgana rushed into the cottage to collect her bag of tools and medicines. But what could be wrong with the prince? He was just a small child.

Morgana listened to the boy gasp for air, his face burning and dripping with fever. He was deathly white. She could see immediately that the prince didn’t have much longer.

“King Brian, this is what I need immediately.

a mortar and pestle
mustard seeds
flour
olive oil
clean towels
honey
mullein leaves for tea
rosemary
a kettle of hot water and a mug

I will also need clean bed sheets, and a fresh woolen tunic. And burn these bedclothes, everything!”

Palace staff scattered frantically in all directions and returned quickly with everything Morgana needed.
She gave directions for the mustard seeds to be ground in the mortar and pestle, and directed another anxious assistant to set the kettle over the fire so she could make some medicinal tea with the mullein leaves. some medicinal tea with the mullein blossoms. All the necessary cloths and bandages were plunged into boiling water so they would be as clean as possible. Morgana was pleased at how well the team was working together.

Finally a huge iron cauldron of water was hung over the blazing fire and fresh rosemary branches tossed in. When the water reached a rolling boil the oils in the leaves released their fragrance. It wasn’t long before the bedchamber was full of healing steam that would help open the prince’s breathing passages and loosen the infection in his lungs.

The King threw himself against the wall, terrified, but also amazed, and unable to speak. At least he wouldn’t be in the way.

Moving quickly, Morgana mixed the mustard powder with honey, olive oil and flour until she had a thick paste, then slathered it in a heavy layer all over the prince’s chest. Finally, a stack of thick towels were layered on top of the paste to seal the heat on the prince’s tiny body.

The practice of magic was strictly forbidden in the realm. Morgana hoped she was not in mortal danger if final efforts failed. Surely with the prince in such dire circumstances, she would not be punished. She hoped it would be worth the risk and decided to trust herself. Besides, the king was not making a move.

With a deep breath Morgana laid the wand on the prince’s chest then placed the gemstone heart directly over his own heart. Drawing a stool to the end of the bed, she placed her hands gently on the prince’s temples and lowered her own head until it almost touched his forehead. Finally, in hushed tones, she whispered the enchantment.

“I place this wand
upon your chest
with a healing heart
to give you rest.
Feel warm loving energy
and lay still as can be.
Receive the healing light
I send now to thee.
You are healed.

Sometime during the night the prince cracked open his eyes, his shivering stopped, and he was able to take some hot mullein and honey tea. Morgana heaved a weary sigh of relief and headed for the closest chair. Since the prince seemed to be out of danger it was safe to leave his side. She was exhausted, but all she could think of was what might have happened if the prince had not survived.

The king was grateful the tales of Morgana’s healing gifts were true and that he was able to summon her in time. His own medics, as well as the palace priest, had failed miserably.

Before she left, King Brian pleaded with Morgana to stay as his chief medic. She thanked him and said she would return any time. But she knew she was of more service in her village, where the old ways were understood and welcomed, and where her life would not be in danger for practicing magic.

Back home Morgana decided to clean and sort her medicine bag. But when she put her hand on the wand, she felt a strange vibration travel up her arm and spread throughout her body.

And with that, Morgana disappeared.

The practice of magic was strictly forbidden in the realm

“Molly, Molly, where are you? It’s time to go home” her mom called out. Molly was not far away so looked up and waved. She sat cross-legged in the sand feeling strange, like she was missing
something.

“That’s an interesting stick you found”, her mother remarked. Molly looked down at the stick in her other hand and her belly did a flip flop. Actually, she did feel as if she had been somewhere, but had absolutely no idea where or what might have happened.

The End ~ for now.

Thank you for stopping by to read Molly’s new adventure. Please scroll down to leave a message. You might also enjoy reading Greta’s Cosmic Dream ~ Four Figs , a fantasy story about space travel.

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Life Love Parents Poetry

Inspired Art ~ not just fun

Inspired art is not just a fun way to spend some time, it’s full of clues. It provides the opening for our everyday busy minds to set aside the daily grind and access intuition. It opens the door. Bored with routine? Need some inspiration? Doing inspired art has helped me on several occasions reveal insightful and unexpected thoughts. Something I didn’t know I needed to know.

I’d like to show you an example of what’s possible when you sit down with a pencil and a blank piece of paper then engage your imagination. You’ll need to send your left brain and all the critics on vacation, and be prepared to allow your body’s subtle impulses to move the pencil across the page. Patience is required and you’ll know when to begin and when stop. It’s as simple as setting aside some time, finding a congenial space, and then waiting patiently for the impulse.

If I’m feeling stuck, bored, or am having a repeated issue, I hit my art corner with the intention of doing some excavation. Thankfully talent is not required. In fact if you have a realistic drawing style, letting go of rules is not automatic. You’re not setting out to draw anything in particular, and perfection is not the goal. All you need to bring to the table is an open mind and willingness to have a little fun. In fact trying defeats the purpose and shuts down the flow.

Little kids do it naturally. My 6 year old granddaughter recently drew a sweet picture of me, and what jumped out was the flying heart on my sweater. I’m sure she didn’t set out to create this whimsical design, but the love was there. She also drew me laughing! One of our favorite pastimes is making up jokes then cracking up, uproariously, and at length. She is a happy little girl and a dear heart and kindred spirit.

In a professional setting, Art Therapy is used to provide insight into a client’s state of mind for both adults and kids. If you’re curious and have six minutes here is a great video from Soul Pancake to illustrate an adult session.

I’d like to share with you my latest deep dive into inspired drawing. First, the setting was spectacular and conducive; clear skies, a wooden picnic table, an old growth forest, and a like-minded buddy. A tall umbrella of trees diffused the sun’s rays to create a misty effect, giving me a sense I was in Sherwood Forest with Robin Hood somewhere about.

She journaled, I drew and then wrote, in the silence, and to the beat of our own hearts.

My drawing started as a simple circle. Then my hand, with a mind of its own, continued until the drawing felt complete. Color was next, and without thinking, off I went. Yet it still seemed unfinished and I found myself reaching for a red felt. After adding several juicy drops of bright red blood falling from my right hand, I drew three links of rusty chain from my neck. These last two additions took me aback, but I didn’t second guess. Surely it would all make sense at some point.

I peered at the goofy being looking up at me from the page, and had a sense it was me. Was I a clown, an inmate? My red face had a somewhat maniacal grin. Was it embarrassment, high blood pressure, frustration? Was I crazy? What the heck!

Then in my head I heard,

“You’ve broken from the chains of the past and are free.”

Right behind I heard the title of the piece.

“Bleed, then be free.”

Dramatic, I know, and at first I was reluctant to write it down. But the truth is, sometimes I’ve needed a knock on the head to get the message, so it made me laugh, or more accurately, choke. Indeed life has been big, with quite a bit of metaphorical bleeding, but this told me it’s over now and time to move on. The perfect message for right here, right now, and not at all what I expected when I started out that day.

To my amazement the fun wasn’t over. Without thinking, my hand moved itself over to the adjacent page and I started to write. One full page.

It was intoxicating.

Here it is, unedited (except for punctuation).

To begin, out of my head popped,

“What do you mean you don’t know what to do?” Hah! Like I had asked a question.

Somewhat bewildered, I thought, of course I do. Then these words tumbled out.

OPEN

A vast canopy 
of muscular branches,
rustling leaves,
else silence.

Begin the release.
Open the space
and receive
who knows how
what or when,
playing all the time
with the past
wrapped around my 
heart strings.

An old package
with loving thoughts,
and thanks.
Complete, no regret.
Tired of clinging
but wanting new,
my own way.
The path of love,
myself and others.

Are you waiting for inspiration, an opening, a little gem, a whisper, a hint, something to ponder? Are you stuck? Maybe you love being creative and you’ve never heard of using inspired art as a personal tool. Go ahead and give it a try. You’ll have some fun in the process.

I’d love to hear from you with any thoughts or experiences you’ve had with inspired art, or anything at all.

(Click comment just below the post, then scroll down to the bottom of the page to view all comments.)

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