Petrified Tears

Last summer I traveled with my partner Barb to visit her ancestral home in Poland. Being situated by the Baltic Sea, most of the world’s Baltic Amber is found there.

A few days ago I held a piece of amber in my hand that we had brought with us from Europe. It felt warm and gentle and was surprisingly light. About 44 million years ago, a prehistoric conifer tree produced this resin. In a long process the resin was fossilized, then hidden under the sea for a long, long time and recently it washed ashore. I held it in my hand and it connected me with a being long gone. The tree must have been injured in some way, maybe a branch had broken off and it had covered the gaping wound with resin. Amber often contains pollen or even an insect of a time long past. It is like a moment of pain conserved forever, a petrified tear of an ancient tree.

I pondered about this. Do we not all have some amber in our soul? Something that got stuck in a moment of pain, an old wound that we tried to cover up like the tree had covered its broken limb but that never really healed? Once I heard a dendrologist, a tree specialist, explain about burls, about cancerous growths in trees. He said that cancer in trees had its origin in an injury, in a trauma so old that we cannot find it anymore. It made me think. How many of our illnesses, of our struggles might come from old traumas that we cannot or do not want to remember? A moment long gone that never healed, a tear hardened in time like the amber?

The amber holds a memory. So does our body. In order to heal, it is often good to remember. What you feel, you can heal. What stays hidden, very often does not change.

A patient once told me that as a child she had been hospitalized. Her parents did not visit her. She cried for days, then she stopped. She closed down, became a loner avoiding contact. Listening to her story, I remembered this fly stuck in a piece of amber, stuck in a time of trauma. I gave her a homeopathic remedy made of amber in order to bring life to her petrified grief, to help her access its origin. She cried for several days. Then she was through. Two months later all her digestive problems that had persisted for years, were gone. A year later I received a post card that she was in a relationship and that she will get married soon. A tear of gratitude welled up in my eyes. I thanked the ancient pine tree for its gift of amber, for its gift of remembering.

If you feel that some old trauma, known or unknown, might be connected with a health issue that you are dealing with, remember the amber. Reach out, you do not have to do it alone. It is good to have a companion on a healing journey, and sometimes you might even want to have a guide through rugged and unfamiliar terrain.

Call me (250 650 1662) or send me an email. I am happy to help you or to help you find a homeopath who lives close to you.