Last  night, as I was going to sleep, I thought about Patrick, the boy I had met at Dorst Campground in Sequoia National Park when I was seven. Camping in the spot next door, he befriended me. He showed me how to walk on fallen logs in the meadow. He helped me climb up on the big rock in between our campsites, offering a helping hand without never once making me feel inferior or weak. He sincerely wanted to spend time with me and share life's wondrous things, like being up on a rock that was bigger than a trailer.

One day, he said, 'I have something special to show you!' and took my hand to lead me far out into the meadow. On the ground was a small patch of snow. And poking up out of it were strange, beautiful red spikes, about three in all. ''Those are snow flowers.' Patrick said. And I was amazed at the wonder of God's Nature on Earth.

When Patrick drove away, I cried great tears, knowing I would never see him again. Home for him was in Pennsylvania. I lived in L.A.

I never forgot him. And as I fell asleep I gave thanks for him.

Patrick died, Blessed Mother said. A great sorrow washed over me, and I bargained with her, to let him know, wherever he is, how truly thankful I was for his kindness and example in my life. It helped me to believe in the highest inentions of others. I prayed hard for his soul to get the message of respect and love I had for him in my heart.

It was me. I was Patrick. said St. Germain, someone I have never channeled before.

My mind was swirling--what? how? why me? But...you were a boy! I touched you! In time, I started to recall that what I had liked about Patrick was his vibration. It was high. He was 'different'. He was 'like me'. Our bond was unspoken, and not of this world. 

This was the truth...he said he can be in many places at once.

This story was told to me by my favorite female urologist:

She has had a collaborative working relationship with a nephrologist, who is open to alternative treatments. They rarely see each other. One day, at the hospital, the nephrologist, who is also female, spotted the urologist having lunch.

Lunch, was something in a styrofoam box from the Doctor's Dining Room, eaten as rapidly as possible. In this case, I think it was a salad.

The nephrologist was shocked! "You can't eat like that!" she said. "You have to slow down! You have to experience your food, interact with it, smell it, taste it, and get pleasure from it!"

The urologist never said anything to the nephrologist, but her look to me as she was telling the story says it all: No duh. I know. I have a very busy schedule. It is 'eat like this, or starve'.

She said, 'Any surgeon, OB-Gyn, E.R. doc, anesthesiologist, or anyone that works in the O.R. will understand the time pressures at lunch time. The internal medicine people that work in the Office just haven't got a clue!'

I laughed and shared that sometimes at work I eat when I am not hungry, when I have the time, because I do not know when the time will come up again for the rest of that day!

Discussions like this help bridge the gap between specialties and places of care.

There is a lot to be said for the thought: walk a mile in my shoes.

Namaste,

Reiki Doc

www.reikidoc.blogspot.com

@usui2102

FB: Doctors With Reiki

This little powem (power poem) snapped into me again last week...finally decided to post it. Wrote it in 1972, the year I divorced Tom:

while talking in circles and thinking in cones

and feeling the stress on the bones

caused by walking upright

staying up through the night

i felt the earth pulled

away from one orbit and into another

where god is our brother.

Astreia