Raven Massage- Aromatherapy-Massage & Reiki: Reiki Master Teacher:

19/03/2026

19/03/2026

I can highly recommend this lovely lady.

13/03/2026

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12/03/2026

3607 likes, 52 comments. “Here's the truth schools won't tell you: "Just ignore them" doesn't work. Neither does "Tell the teacher". Bullies are strategic, they operate when adults aren't watching. Here are the 5 things parents should do: 1. We teach the "broken record" response When someone says ...

12/03/2026

Today is a beautiful opportunity to cultivate peace within our own hearts. When the mind becomes calm and mindful, anger softens, wisdom grows, and compassion naturally begins to guide our words and actions.

The Dharma reminds us that everything is impermanent. When we truly understand this, we stop clinging to anger and suffering. We learn to let go, breathe, and meet the world with gentleness.

May today be a day where we practice peace 🌿 not only for ourselves, but for everyone we encounter. 💛

🪷 Peace • Compassion • Love

01/03/2026

While it may look like you go from 0-100 instantaneously, what is misunderstood is that you were never at 0. There is no 0. You're running beyond 100 and trying to keep it all under control.

So are you 'over reacting' to something innocuous? Something small? Something seemingly insignificant?
No. You are running far beyond capacity. You are reacting to everything. All at once. And most of it is neither insignificant, innocuous nor trivial. Those are the bits no one sees, because you hide them so well.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

01/03/2026

20/02/2026

20/02/2026

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20/02/2026

07/02/2026

My son came home with a classmate who smelled of stale smoke and had been wearing the same faded sweatshirt for days.
Leo is nine years old. That Tuesday afternoon he asked me, “Mom, can Julian come over? He says there’s no Wi-Fi at his house, and we need to finish the geography project.”
An hour later, Julian was at our door. He was thin, with messy hair and shoes held together with strips of tape. When I reached for his jacket, he stepped back. Quickly. Like someone used to defending himself.
“Are you hungry, Julian?”
He nodded. Then he ate three cheese sandwiches without ever taking his eyes off the plate.
While the boys worked at the kitchen table, I noticed Julian didn’t have a backpack. Just a crumpled supermarket bag with a few sheets of paper inside. His homework looked like a battlefield, full of erasures and attempts. But he was trying. You could see he was giving it everything he had.
“Do you want me to check the answers?”
“My dad usually does… but now he’s… busy.”
That “busy” broke something inside me.
Later, Leo told me, “Julian’s dad is really sick. He’s almost always in his room. And his mom… has been gone for a long time.”
Julian started coming over every day. Always polite. Always hungry. He never asked for anything, but he looked at our pantry like it was a treasure chest full of gold.
One evening it was eight o’clock, and he was still there, sitting on the edge of the couch, staring at the TV without seeing it.
“Julian, do you think your dad is worried?”
“No,” he said. “He’s resting. He’s almost always resting now.”
That night I walked him home. The building was dark, silent. The apartment cold. His father opened the door—pale, extremely thin, coughing so badly it hurt just to hear it.
“Sorry… I work nights. I have to sleep during the day. Julian knows how it works.”
But he wasn’t working. It was obvious.
He was too sick to be a parent.
I didn’t call anyone. Not right away. I started showing up. I brought dinner, saying I had cooked too much. I offered rides to school because it was “on the way.” I bought Leo a pair of new boots—and oops—another pair the wrong size. “Maybe Julian can use them?”
Then, one Saturday afternoon, Ray told me everything.
“Stage four lung cancer. No insurance. Lost my job months ago. I’m just trying to keep the lights on a little longer. Then… Julian will end up in the system.”
“And what if he doesn’t?” I asked.
We’re not rich. We get by with difficulty. But we had an extra room.
Two months ago, Ray moved in with us. We set up a hospital bed in the living room. Julian took my old sewing room.
It’s not adoption. It’s not formal foster care.
It’s just what you do when someone is falling and no one is there to catch them.
Ray doesn’t have much time. Most days he just watches Leo and Julian play video games, his eyes glassy, a faint smile on his lips.
“He’s a kid again,” he told me. “I thought it would never happen.”
Last week, Julian accidentally called me “Mom” while asking for a glass of water. He went pale. Stammered.
“Sorry… I meant…”
“It’s okay,” I said, hugging him tight.
Ray saw us. That night he took my hand. Whispering, he said only: “Thank you. Thank you for letting me stay long enough to know he’ll be okay.”
I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. I don’t know how we’ll manage two growing boys, or what bureaucracy will hit us when Ray is gone.
But today, two boys are doing homework at our table. And one of them finally has shoes that don’t fall apart with every step.
You don’t need a cape to save someone. Sometimes all it takes is a sandwich. A ride. A warm bed. An open door.
Pay attention to the quiet children. The ones who always say, “No, thank you” when you ask if they’re hungry, but stare at the fridge like it’s magic.
You don’t have to fix everything.
You just have to notice.
And maybe, every now and then… make an extra sandwich.

01/11/2025