A giant of a man
George
Shears has been on my mind – which is odd, given he’s long dead. But you should
know about George and, given I wake thinking of him and go to sleep thinking of
him, this part of his story is mine to tell. His life spanned the years from
1890 – 1978.
George
was amused and already in his 80’s when I met him. Amused because he figured 80
would be about as far as his body would carry him. About his own death he used
to quip that if anyone found his body please let him be the first to know. I
was in my teens and we were in Colorado living in an “intentional community” with
aims to influence all good things to happen between people and in the world.
(George
in younger days.)
To
look at George you’d see an old man shuffling along at a painstakingly slow
pace – without aid of cane or walker; a long way from pitching in the big
leagues for the New York Highlanders (Yankees) as he did for one short season in
1912.
(George pitched major league -- pitched left, batted right.)
His
voice quavered but his power was immense. George’s motto, seared into the
memory of many, was “Give thanks for all things under all circumstances.” On the
face of it that line could seem ridiculous and many examples of things not to
be happy about spring to mind. But George understood the life giving impact of
keeping a thankful heart regardless of circumstance. If anyone reading this
ever taped his voice repeating his mantra I’d surely love to hear it.
George
was a rebel. Back in the 1930’s as a chiropractor he discovered that
adjustments and alignments began to happen on the table even before he put his
hands on some of his patients. He attributed that to the power of the life
force moving between the ineffable, the doctor and the patient. So, much to the
dismay of organized chiropractors he began a new movement he called GPC (God,
Patient, Chiropractor) which flourished beyond expectations and often was practiced
on the basis of donation. Training began for scores of eager chiropractors and
this practice was the beginning of a school of no touch healing called “attunement”
which focuses largely on the endocrine system.
For
George, you didn’t even need to be present to participate in attunement – long distance
was not an issue. So, George would have 8 am morning gatherings
with a handful of people who dropped in before work (or after if your work was cooking
breakfast or separating milk in the milk house). People from all over the world
would call or write to George and ask to be put on his list for mention in his
20 minute or so time of healing thoughts from George and whatever group was with him that day -- it varied greatly. Who
else was with George was largely beside the point – but he did like the
agreement of like-minded participants in the room with him.
Alice
lived with George in his double wide trailer (fancy digs for Sunrise Ranch back
in the day). She was his housekeeper and friend – the sister of his late wife.
Alice had a terrible stammer. Much to my amazement though, anytime I heard her
speak in one of our healing circles, she spoke clearly and without a stutter.
There was a lot of healing energy in the room and it affected everyone in a different
way.
In
1978, at 88 years, it was George’s time to die. As he lay on his deathbed at
home I was granted access to come in to say a final good bye. There are no
words to describe this experience that would do it justice -- it was profound,
and wildly impacted my understanding of death. George’s tall, rickety form,
was tucked into a ball on the bed. He looked asleep or unconscious. But George….George
was present in the room like a giant. There will never be a doubt that he knew
I was there and he communed with me happily for a time. I left changed. He passed not long
after.
While
life and death remain a great mystery to me, I do know that George had a whole
lot figured out. He went into the great unknown with the same joyful sense of
adventure that he lived.
So,
George, here you go. Thank you for the profound influence you had on my life.
Thank you for your humour, your wisdom, your encouragement, your simplicity. Thank you for having the
courage of your convictions which flew – and still flies – in the face of
skeptics. You were a trail blazer and perhaps the kindest man I’ve ever had the
pleasure to know.
Thank
you, George. Always.
Beth
