Shiome Therapy Articles
Weaving Ancient and Modern Science for Transformational Healing Experiences
Heart of Winter
By Judith A. Hancox (2001)
 Winter and Louie |
Winter appeared on December 21st, 1993 cold and snowy, chilled to the
bone. He is a wondrous Being of Light who came out of the earth from under
our deck and invited himself to dinner. His long, wild, Maine-Coon hair
was stiff with frost. I studied my black & white 'crouching tiger'
as his eyes bore into mine. He relinquished his gaze only to dart his
eyes behind him and back a few times, assessing his plan of action. My
heart stood as still as the frost on his fur, opened wide in friendship,
filled with anticipation. In that sacred, golden moment when his eyes
met mine, I knew Winter had come to stay.
"It's O.K., honey," I stated matter-of-factly, "you can
eat our cat food - it's ok, that's what it's here for!" I was filling
Kitten-Little's bowl outside when Winter surprised me. "Kitten-Little"
had come to us in the Summer of '83 - dropped on our doorstep at 6 weeks
of age filled with fleas, broken teeth, and lots of love. Cats usually
come to our home; we rarely go looking for them.
Winter crouched lower, then gracefully leaped onto the picnic table, next
to my side. He crunched his food and let me stroke him gently. I realized
this was the feral cat that had been hiding under our porch for over a
month, "stealing" bites of food and dashing off into the night.
After our physical encounter, Winter sniffed at my kitchen door, pawing
to come in. Apparently he noticed it would be warmer inside, rather than
outside, that sliding glass barrier.
Quinlan, our Golden Retriever, ran to greet him. Winter rubbed his body
against her leg, sniffed, and licked her face. Quinlan responded in kind,
instant camaraderie. Quinlan, my "assistant" psychotherapist
since she was a puppy, helped my work in trauma recovery. Quinlan Shannon
Murphy was a loving, gentle healer, who barked at my office door at a
very young age, asking to come in. She would give her life for my clients,
and not many clients declined her offer. She truly loved her job!
Maybe Quinlan swayed Winter's decision; maybe our love affected him. Whatever
the reason (despite Kitten's 'hissy fit'), he stayed to investigate, sniffing
one room at a time, one day at a time, corner to corner, in military-on-the-belly,
crouched-to-ground position. He raised his head and stood up straight
when his inspection was complete.
"He's a good, healthy, neutered male," reported Dr. B., giving
me my second shock of Winter. Neutered? Feral? This cat was one strange
dude; interesting mixes of wild and tame. Winter commands respect. He
has strong, sharp claws that keep one distant when he wants it, yet he's
never hurt a human. One soulful gaze into his eyes, and you may have a
flash of intuition. Winter's soul reminds me of my own.
It's been seven years since we've been graced by Winter. For seven years
he's moved with us through our traumas and triumphs, settling into our
new home on the mountain like King Lion claiming his throne. Winter chased
away all 'strays' from his kingdom, and then found a new something to
chase - he chases darkness from the Light. It seems to give him great
pleasure, and gives "his" clients interesting insights.
Two years ago Quinlan retired from my business. Medical knowledge told
me it was for her own good. After 9 years of sessions with traumatized
clients, Quinlan was growing white and tired, getting grumpy before her
time. We adopted a puppy to lighten her spirit, but a disgruntled old
Quinlan did not go for her "token" early retirement present.
She barked relentlessly when "her" clients arrived, nearly breaking
my heart with each bark. It was Winter who came to our rescue, scratching
at my office door as relentlessly as Quinlan's bark. When Winter scratched,
Quinlan became silent. I guess she knew her clients would be in safe "paws".
Confident and assertive, Winter's scratching signals your session could
be honored by his presence, a sign that he has chosen you. From the first
client who accepted his offer, Winter was magnetized to his job. Winter
is quite different from Quinlan - he picks & chooses his clients,
and his session time. Winter accepts a rejection from a client with quiet
dignity. I believe he walks away knowingly. Barring allergies and sensitivities,
most of my clients gladly let Winter grace them with his presence.
"What on earth is he doing?" a puzzled client questioned. Winter
had jumped on her lap, and was "pawing" her chest. "Jane"
was crying at that very moment, when Winter went straight for her hurting
heart. Jane allowed Winter to continue his "kneading", not paying
much attention as she cried and worked through her issues. He kept pawing
until she stopped crying, and then settled on her lap to sleep. She stroked
Winter as she described her feelings, "He was helping me get rid
of the sadness," she kept saying, "he seems to really know what
to do!"
When working with an eating-disordered client, Winter lay on her chest
as she described her week's eating habits. When she became nauseous, Winter
jumped to the floor and vomited twice. Later, after reviewing the session,
we realized the woman had worked on two early childhood memories - one
at age four and one at age ten.
One client was stuck at an impasse, unable to move in a direction he desired.
One day he allowed Winter into his session. Winter jumped on his lap,
and began biting at his shoulder! Thankfully my client had on a thick
sweater, but it startled him, so I sent Winter away. Winter probably understood
why he was not retained for service, and did not resist his being put
out. Later my client told me his medical advisor said he was "loaded
with parasites". I wonder what would happen if we were brave enough
to allow Winter to 'assist' in his strange way?
I cannot always tell you what Winter is doing in my office; I can only
tell you that it usually works. My clients can tell you of the loving
energy they feel for and from our Winter, and oh, my Winter - if only
he could talk! Well, Winter does speak in many ways, say many clients.
"Listen" to this story, and let your intuition be your guide.
Today I worked with a young, sensitive adolescent. I might say a very
psychic soul. She told me that while deep in her meditation, in her safe
place inside her, she DID speak to Winter, and Winter spoke to her.
It was right before the end of her session when I asked what she was laughing
at. She said, "Before I opened my eyes just now, I saw Winter, lying
by the bank, like a sphinx, up on his paws. He had been sitting between
us (her inner child & she) by the river through the whole session,
helping us stay calm. When he lay down I said, 'Thank you Winter'. And
Winter said: 'No problem, that's what I live for.' "We both laughed
while we watched Winter, as he awakened from his nap by her side. As he
gazed at us with those wide green eyes, we both knew deep inside, she
heard the Truth.
Native Americans tell us animals bring medicine—it's important to
pay attention when an animal crosses your path. If you are lucky enough
to be crossed by Winter, you will experience a Great Spirit by your side.
I know Winter brings magic to our sessions; he helps move disturbing darkness
into Peace-filled Light. I know my life was touched by Winter; he's been
the harbinger of delight!
We are blessed with our loving guardian, our dear Winter. He's the Winter
of our deep content. I believe Winter's heart is filled with healing power,
because Winter's heart is filled with Love. And I know, long, long after
Winter, his soft touch will still be found. In the land of Soul that is
Forever, Winter's touch is with us Now.
Note: Winter passed over in May, 2003. His authentic being touched many lives, even after his passing, and his love will be held in our hearts forever.
Judith A. Hancox,
MSW, LCSW, BCETS