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Archive for April, 2017

Is it a Herx, Herx, Hooray Day?…

Yesterday, I winged it up the north coast road. Okay, I drove. I had no real choice. I was in the car, it was moving north, I appeared to be driving. So I went with it.

Beautiful, wild and less visited than the other central coast section of Highway 1 (that being the Big Sur Coast), the northern section of Highway 1, Santa Cruz to Half Moon Bay, is equally incredible. Nothing but rugged coastline, near empty beaches, whales, seabirds and sailboards. Okay, there is more wind here.

The car was taking me closer to an 8-pass ozone tune up at the office of Doctor’s Rowen and Su, for a long overdue maintenance, or in this case- what felt like an emergency intervention. (An 8-pass was all I could afford at this point).

When I arrived Rachael, the intake nurse’s assistant, takes my blood pressure (118-82 and pulse (64).

The first- ‘You look great.’- is declared. “So good to see you. Been along time.”

This is not the stereotypical, dungeon-like atmosphere usually correlated with a visit to a doctor’s office. The energy is alive, the space filled with many happy people, all positive and feeling assured that they are at the best spot, the place where optimum health is rediscovered, illness overcome and vitality restored.

Soon, I am escorted back to the IV zone, the place where the ozone is administered (along with many other restorative and cutting edge procedures). Sherri, the nurse who is first to greet me, playfully exudes forth:

“We were fighting over who got to do your 8-pass.” She giggles. “We both wanted you.”

“You are so sweet.” I smile. Then Pamela, the other nurse slides her head around the corner and says. “You can have him today.” She smiles like a true friend, one who understands chronic illness firsthand, for she too has been dealing with a condition for decades (kept in check by ozone, pure diet, surrender to Consciousness (God) and Divine Will.

It has been nearly 10 months since I was last in for treatment. Too long.

The general consensus begins to pour forth. I am doing great. My blood looks really good, including: the color, quality and flow. In fact I do not coagulate and clog the IV line even one time during a really fast 8-pass. I wonder if my pre-treatment, peroxide enema has enhanced the process.

I really do not feel as great as what these women are exuding but say nothing. I go with it. Maybe nothing is off and my issue has been a difficult to slough off 9 year hallucinatory bout of psychosomatic hypochondria. Then Doctor Su comes by.

“How many 10-pass  treatments have you done.” She asks.

“I’ve done 1 Colozone (ozonated colonic) and 8 10-passes in a 2 month period, once a week.” I pause. “The Lahodny protocol.” I finish.

“You know that Lahodny says that for serious cases like yours, you must also do a 10-pass 6 times a years after that. Every two months as a maintenance.” She remarks.

“I was not aware of that. I thought, 10-passes 10 times once a week and you are cured.”

“No, that’s not how it works.” She finishes, smiling, and turns to walk away.

“Thanks for stopping by Doctor Su. So nice to see you.” I smile.

Though I could drop dead tomorrow, no matter how I look or appear. Looks can be deceiving as they saying goes, especially when one is undergoing the undulations and waves of chronic illness.  It is hard to differentiate at times when energy spikes and one looks energetically-visually somewhat vibrant at one time of the day. The eyes have a close to normal luster, the voice clear and strong, the brain highway free from fog, the body feels not completely fatigued.

Yet an hour later, you cannot even keep the body vertical or even sit upright. You must lie down, feeling drained and drift into sleep within minutes. Such are the waves.

Someone who has never dealt with a chronic malady cannot relate at all, no matter what they say or don’t say. It’s like awakening from the trance of egoic delusion. Unless you have awakened from the trance of ego, you still view things from that conditioned, fraudulent filter. You are not viewing life through reality, which is the simple, subtle, indirect light of awareness, and have not undergone a profound inner shift of awareness.

In some ways today, this am after the treatment, has been no different than a hundred, okay, a thousand other days during the last 9 years inside the wellness yo-yo. I slept 9 pm to 7 am. Drank tea and meditated 7-9 am. Breakfast. Forced nap underway at 9:45 with black bandana tied around the head to keep out the day time brightness, and writing ideas spinning loose from their bearings.

The ozone worked its magic. I felt enlivened and yet the body is in shock after the treatment. The lightning bolt struck paydirt but has left a mass of dead, pathogenic organisms in its wake. Reorganization is underway.

This morning the brain fog lifted, a spaced out feeling is still evident but the brain cells have more oxygen, cohesion in the hemispheres is at hand.  I am into, most likely, what is called a Herx Reaction.

They call it a Herx reaction, after a short-term (from days to a few weeks) detoxification reaction –originally a term used to define endotoxin destruction (bacterial die off from penicillin treatment), the term is now used more readily to describe any extreme detoxification reaction. A Herx can include flu-like symptoms, headache, joint and muscle pain, body aches, sore throat, general malaise, sweating, chills, nausea or other symptoms.

It is hard to distinguish actual symptoms of illness or disease from a Herx-at times. One must wait and endure some days or weeks to see what has transpired.

I trust that the MHAT Ozone treatment is modulating the immune system, improving the cardiovascular arena, producing an anti-inflammatory effect and reducing the pathogens and toxin load in the body.  So I wait and I write.

More research is needed to see how this most potent form of ozone works on the different pathogens, like: lyme spirochete, bacteria, fungus and parasites, as well as other chemical toxins in the body.

What is known, that 10-pass ozone is able to safely improve health no matter what is causing the bodily imbalance. I trust that.

 

The Search for Wellness…

My blog does not get much traffic. This might be attributed to ineffective marketing or disinterest in SEO optimization. Maybe the issue is my writing style. I am not politically correct nor do I promote mainstream propaganda or belief systems.

In truth, in my writing, I shatter illusion and delusion, which many guard with their very lives.

Once a week I do, however, watch the blog stat sheet. WordPress gives you this much-

What continent do your readers reside and what post is being looked at.

Twenty percent of the views are related to a 3 year old post that contains a quote from the Indian sage Nisargadatta–which I sense the search engines pick up on:

“Use all your spare time to break down the walls your mind has built around you. Believe me, you will not regret.” These views usually come from  India.

Another ten percent of the views fall into the miscellaneous category.

The remaining 60 percent of the site views relate to 3 main blogs–all related to Ozone therapy.

Why is this, you might ask? Three words. One reason: Chronic illness epidemic.

The facts are, millions of sick people are desperately searching the internet for a panacea, a new ‘end my disease’ pill. Their vital force and sense of joy are being stripped and rearranged. It is said that over  50 percent of all internet searches are related to illness recovery or health enhancement. People are searching for a lottery winner; grabbing any lifeboat they can, like my ozone blogs.

I was one of them. They know I have been there. They want to get my opinion on what works and what doesn’t.

So when they contact me with heart-wrenching stories of health gone down the tubes, what do I tell them?

I have recovered health to a large degree several times over the last 9 years but each and every upswing was short-lived. Sometimes I tried to push too much physically; other times I could not find a reasonable answer to the ‘why a relapse happened’. As I read more about others going through chronic illnesses, I saw that this spike pattern was happening with so many. Of course, the spike to good health was for the lucky ones. A large percentage of the time, people never climbed from the deep recesses of physical depletion and illness.

I have consulted over the phone with a few people in the last month.  It seems a tier system creates the best shot at recovery. Below is a synthesis of what I have told them. I call this the health ladder. This is from my book.

Recovering from Chronic Illness

If you are undergoing a chronic dis-ease process, this may offer a fresh perspective. Each of us has a particular genetic makeup, and the “illness forms” will always appear as unique, even if they are given a label, like cancer.

Yet the primary remedy, Spirit, must be given priority. During my experience with “chronic illness,” I literally felt as if I was unplugged from an electrical current. And during recovery, the current was going off and on. There was such an intense sensitivity to the environment, both inner and outer. Part of what was happening during the illness realignment related to finding one’s true grounding wire, to become in essence embodied by Spirit. This led me toward a deeper and fuller immersion in the vital force (God, Spirit, the Divine, whatever name you want to use).

We must also address the physical toxins, such as metals, bacteria, virus, and gluten. Our immune system is not some vast array of physical mechanisms and labels inside a biological process called the body—it is much more than that. Our immune system thrives on positive energy and negative ions from communion with inner and outer nature. We have histories, which may include trauma, previous toxic exposure, injuries, and numerous co-infections. Eating pure foods and physically detoxifying the body can be very helpful adjuncts.

You can recover from any chronic illness. A multi-tiered approach helps one recover more fully from most chronic illnesses. Besides the deep inner work (on the spiritual-emotional-mental realms), you must begin to de-stress and learn the full diaphragmatic breath, yogic breathing, or a brisk inhaling style with a long slow exhale. And it is vitally important to optimize bowel function. In the area of oral care, a high-quality dental water flosser/irrigator is a wonderful adjunct. These do not replace brushing and flossing; they enhance cleaning by inhibiting bacterial and other toxins while invigorating the gums.

Phase 1 of the healing process for many of us involves stopping gluten, sugar, dairy products, alcohol, and GMO foods. Start consuming fresh organic vegetables and fruit. Begin a regular juicing program (organic vegetable juices). You also need to limit external exposure to toxicity at home and at work.

Phase 2 is for detoxification. In this phase, the focus is on removing all inner toxins through intestinal cleansing (enemas and colonics), skin brushing, and sweating. Toxins also need be removed from the mouth, in the form of root canals, cavitation infections, and metals (mercury inhibits detoxification by binding selenium and inactivating glutathione while increasing free radicals). Other imbedded toxins must be located and removed from the system.

Phase 3 is devoted to supplementation, in order to replenish enzyme and nutrient deficiencies, and also involves exercise and energy work like: massage, qigong, tai chi, and yoga. Possible aids for healing these root toxic conditions include proteolytic enzymes, medicinal mushrooms, natural antibiotic herbals, and bee pollen, to help replace amino acid protein chains that are being consumed by the bacteria. It is recommended to take an adrenal formula and a high-grade multi-vitamin-mineral formula as well. Reservatrol (from grapes) and the herb ashwagandha are also good. In addition, clary sage seed oil and glutathione injections, plus naturally derived vitamin C in high dosages, can also be used to enhance antioxidant levels and reduce oxidative stress.

There are many different detoxification and rebuilding protocols available. One, ozone therapy, has had remarkable success.

Medical ozone first began being used in 1896 through the brilliant pioneering work of Nicola Tesla, and advances have been made to the point that various substances like olive and coconut oil can deliver the healing power of oxygen. There is an ozone hospital in Malaysia (this kind of hospital is not legal in the United States but holistic doctors in many places throughout the U.S. are now offering this) that does full ozone blood transfusions, called Major Autohemotherapy (MAHT). This treatment involves drawing about half a pint of blood into a closed sterile bag to which medical-grade ozone is added. This mixture is then returned to the body over a period of 10 to 12 minutes. Essentially the blood is oxygenated, which kills fungal, bacterial, viral, and parasite disease-causing organisms. Ozone is the safest medical therapy ever devised. It must be done with a professional to ensure that minerals, vitamins, and body systems are kept in balance. Ozone works because healthy cells need oxygen for optimum functioning while disease-causing elements, like parasites, virus, and bacteria, thrive in an anaerobic environment, meaning one with no oxygen. (You can see my 3 blogs on Ozone for more detailed information on this process).

Other therapies include Cowden Condensed Protocol (alternative Lyme disease treatment), Cutler Protocol (for mercury detoxification), Garry Gordon’s F.I.G.H.T. program (for generalized health improvement), and Dietricht Klinghardt’s Neurotoxin Elimination Protocol (for heavy-metal detoxification, Lyme disease, and other neurotoxic conditions). IV vitamin C therapy is another viable option.

It’s also important to look at iodine deficiency. It’s been shown that 95 percent of the population is deficient in iodine, because of halogen replacement of bromides (in many foods, like bread). Deficiency of iodine is linked to thyroid dysfunction, but also to ADD/ADHD, atherosclerosis, cancer, diabetes, liver diseases, headaches, and many autoimmune issues. Fluorine, chlorine, bromine, and iodine are called “halogens” or “salts” in Group 17 on the Periodic Table of elements, and they all have exactly seven electrons in their outer shells. Based on atomic weight, fluorine, chlorine, and bromine are able to “displace” iodine because they can attach to the same receptor sites. This causes iodine deficiency.

Medical marijuana gets a bad rap, but high-grade oil can make a radical shift in many chronic illnesses. The most remarkable “cures” related to medical marijuana, have occurred with epilepsy. CDB (cannabidiol) oil extract, a non-psycho-active form of the medicine, has been found to eradicate epileptic seizures. Many of those getting relief are children who have been on pharmaceutical drugs for years.

Blessings to all those searchers who are attempting to recovery from a wide variety of chronic health situations. Know that you are always being held in the Divine Presence and that illness can lead us to stillness–to a deeper and truer connection to the Divine.

In that sense illness is your friend.

Let Patience Win the Day…

 

Chronic Illness Revisited…that was to be the title of this blog. Now it’s the first half.

I was heading to the library to write about the latest in lyme disease and it’s coinfections (particularly mycoplasma). I was going to tell you how the once maligned deer tick is not the real culprit.

It’s mice.

How a nearly a decade ago 1 in 5 ticks were carriers at the local state park here in Aptos, California.

Today, in the Pacific Northwest, estimates show that white-footed mice are the true lyme carriers. They infect 95 percent of all ticks that feed on them. Not only that, but mosquitoes, fleas, and mites also carry lyme and other newly designed, nefarious and infectious illnesses. 19 of 20 ticks. Lyme. This is like Russian roulette except all 6 bullet chambers have a live round. You’re only shot is a misfire.

Hundreds of years ago the Pneumonic Plague (black death) escorted one to a quick exit within a couple of days.

In 1918 it was the great influenza epidemic; that Spanish flu did in 40 million, 3-5 percent of the world’s population at the time. Most died within weeks of initial infection.

Today we have lyme and mycoplasma species. Both are biowarfare agents (yep, created in a lab to help us fight off our so-called enemies).

According to Dr. Mercola’s site:

“Since national surveillance began in 1982, the number of annual Lyme cases reported has increased nearly 25-fold.”

300,000 to 500,000 a year infected with Lyme. Mycoplasma infection rates defy diagnostic statistics because they hide intracellularly. A large portion of the world population are thought to be carriers of pathogenic strains of Mycoplasma.

What has actually transpired or is that conspired?

These engineered disease-causing agents (Lyme and Mycoplasma) have been let loose by what is often referred to as: Military-Medical-Wall Street-Political Industrial Complex. The entire U.S. population at large is under siege. A covert-stealth war has been going on under our noses, underneath our skin, inside our organs and blood.

Systemic infiltration. Textbook military stuff.

Forget about the possibility of war. It’s here right now and chewing people up, taking away their best years and damaging lives. No mutilated limbs,  irrefutable dismemberments or war widows; the new version is covered up in denial, confusion and ‘scientific’ disinformation.

But there is no denying that lyme disease can turn chronic and cause neurodegenerative effects. Often these symptoms are diagnosed as ALS, MS, Alzheimers, Parkinsons or other medical labels but at their center, behold: Lyme or Mycoplasma.

These testimonials from chronic neuro-Lyme patients are true:

“My husband has to write for me sometimes. My hands don’t want to hold the pen or are shaking too bad.”
“I had to leave a job that I loved because English no longer felt like a language I knew.”
“I had to leave my clinical social worker position because I was unable to complete documentation. What once took me 5 minutes would take me a half hour or more, just to find a common clinical term and string together a couple sentences.”
“I dropped out of my PhD program because I couldn’t organize a single paragraph anymore.”
“Once an excellent speller…can’t remember how to spell simple words sometimes.”
“My daughter had to take a medical leave from college.”
“At work I had people write things down because I couldn’t process the information. Horrible…and be a single parent. I went from three jobs to barely working.”
I feel humbled and lucky when I read these words. I can still walk, still write, even coherently at times.

According to Dietrich Klinghardt M.D. Ph.D, a world leader in the new and emerging chronic diseases:

“Even 15 years ago, most of us thought that chronic illness is the outcome of environmental toxicity and everything related to that. But we got a little wiser and realized that the issues go far deeper. What has been astounding to us when we look at illnesses that are well established in the conventional medical field like Parkinson or multiple sclerosis or chronic fatigue are all turning out to be primarily chronic infections with this particular expression of it.

Right at the center of that is really the ongoing discovery of Lyme disease…and then on the darker side of things, we do have some government documents that were leaked to us that shows in the 1950’s, 1960s and 70s or maybe into the 80s there were some wild experimentation going on in the U.S. military… experimenting with recombining different microbes in order to create stealthy microbes that make large populations ill so they lose their will to fight and to attack… I go over to Europe how different patients with Lyme disease look there. I worked half my life over there as a physician and half my life here. The people in the U.S. with chronic Lyme disease are far more ill. They have far less energy. It just looks like there is a viral element in our Lyme disease that we see here that is not present in Europe and that cannot be explained on pure biological grounds…”

And then I hit a squirrel.

I was leisurely descending the steep country road when a car appeared behind me. They quickly pressed close to my rear bumper. The new variety of tail-gater. Rushed, entitled, and lord of the road. Get left. Get right- but get out of my way.

A major pet peeve of mine, I admit. This is road rage, projected anger. A national pastime, a growing insanity. Usually I pull over but there was nowhere to stop. I had not the patience to wait a minute, to endure the frantic mind-pressing energy behind me, the ‘hurry-hurry-hurry! I think I am somebody who needs to get someplace and now’ energetics from the car behind me.

I accelerated to get some space and took my eyes and peripheral vision from the front windshield, glancing back via the rear view mirror.

“Asshole” -the mind silently muttered.

Then she appeared in front of me. Out of nowhere, a squirrel. The uncertain slide-shuffle steps of tiny feet, a few centimeters to the left, a few inches to the right.

“Make a decision girl!” I astral project:

‘Oh, no, she’s stopping I cry internally. Go sweetie run.’ Too late. ‘Oh, God no! Please go between my tires’.

That frozen millisecond in time. I brake hard. My heart breaks.

Gentle thud. Eyes back to the rear view mirror. She was not smashed and dead.

Worse.

Crippled, mangled, unable to move–it seemed like one of her limbs, maybe two had been dislocated. She’s totally debilitated, writhing back and forth. Another car on the way. She slides from view. My heart sinks in dread. Permanent disability, immanent death.

Suffering.

What an incredible paradox. I’m on my way to write about death and induced plagues and I have sent a small innocent critter to nature’s morgue.

It wasn’t alcohol this time. Simply a brief moment of impatience.

It cost a life.

It’s just a squirrel? Yeah, right?! What if it was the squirrel I see every day playing at the base of the redwood canopy? The one that comes to the back steps and does this magnificent morning scurry that I am privileged to witness. Would that make it easier?

What if she was my dad? Reborn, reincarnated.

The truth is, she was a living being. My car hit her. Own it! Feel it!

She was part of me; I was part of her. Part of me died that instant too. It was a needed death. I can complain about being pushed from behind, the increasingly crazy drivers, wish I lived in the nature setting of a spiritually-oriented ashram, with no need to drive at all.

I can say it was one of those mornings where I wasn’t as alert–could have blamed it on brain fog and response times, abdominal pain, fatigue. I’m not sure if I even know the difference anymore. I feel as if I am in some kind of alternative bardo state, between worlds. Alive? Dead? They both feel equally true and completely insignificant. It’s not some morose, depressive trance speaking but a genuine attempt to explain the unexplainable.

I killed a squirrel or at least mortally wounded her. All this writing is an attempt to cover up for a feeling of utter helplessness and grief. For me, for the the innocent squirrel, who may well be dying or being eaten by a raven as I write.

The life force keeps spiking, with sporadic energies to keep this Michael organism going. Why, I do not know. I don’t feel it’s time to die nor do I feel able to take part in a world gone mad.

Bury me in a cryogenic freeze to be thawed and resuscitated in a few thousand years.

Bring me back to a time when Consciousness carries the day, where people remain mostly in silence because LOVE flows from THAT space as a fluent language instantly understood. In that timeless dimension, when words come they launch from the heart like an infant’s first COO; eyes gaze in wonder as the Self meets Itself, over and over, everywhere it looks.

For now, I’ll type into this tech contraption a few tidbits of my story, wondering if someone will catch even a small trace of what I am putting forth, what I am pointing to.

This blog is my epithet, my tombstone insignia:

Here wrote a wild man with a gentle heart, a throwback to the ancient days, he was dusted with the potpourri of the new age. He took his shot at what it means to be an authentic human being. He lives on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fearless Death…

I can’t get away from death.

My former partner is an astrologer. When I was in my mid 30’s, she was a fledgling apprentice and looked at my chart.

“Oh my God, you have five planets in the 8th house (death and dying) and four of them are in scorpio!” Stunned she brought my chart to her teacher, the famous wizard of astrology, Steven Forrest. He declared:

“You were a doctor during the black plague and probably succumbed to the illness while trying to save others. It was Godzilla versus Bambi. It was not your fault.”

A few years later, as my 40’s approached and my former partner had deepened her astrological prowess, she decided to study my advance planetary aspects.

An hour went by. Gasps. Two hours. Heavy breathing. By hour three, the charts and books were gone.

The next day my bags were packed, leaning against the back porch. Go. Hurry. Quick hug. Best of luck. It was the ‘I’ve seen the future and you’re fucked’ farewell.

Yet discharging me from the premises was a sane move it turned out; any sensible woman would have done the same. Apparently my Uranus opposed itself. Who knew?! Spontaneous asteroid combustion immanent. Gamma Ray release likely. Mars was poised to suffocate Venus; Saturn square to retrograde Pluto. Alien brain implantation on the horizon. My former partner was a woman who needed stability. I was already a wildcard. And here the deck showed nothing but jokers remaining.

The facts were written in the stars no less but I tried for a last ditch relationship resuscitation.

“I was there when the vet put down your beloved Sharpei!” I pronounced. “Just remember that!” Oh, shit, what did I say? I was there? Euthanasia? Death?

The death dude, that’s me. I’ve seen more than my share of crucifixions.

Death, she’s been riding me of late. Which today means I’m some kind of human sled. Delilah Death, the Grim Reaper’s wife and no doubt the hidden power behind the man, has stepped on my back, put a tight harness around my neck and face, tethered to two large black stallions- each pointing in different directions.

Delilah exults:

“Step on it boys!”

Thanks Darling D.

Sometimes I feel like Lieutenant Dan from Forest Gump. You remember the classic scene. No legs, tied to the boat’s mast, a massive southern storm in full roar, he yells to death:

“I’m right here! Is that all you got!?”

Terry, my end of life client, a kind-hearted, sweet man, died Thursday morning at 2 am during a strong spring downpour. His wife could not hear his loud breaths on her baby monitor because of the pelting on the roof. When the squall was over, so was the breathing. They say souls often leave form mid-storm. I visited Terry’s wife for an hour. She was exhausted and running on adrenaline storage.

Then I stopped by the health food store, Staff of Life, a local institution. As I was checking out my friend appeared. Recently returned from an island trip, he told me how some Hawaiian healer had finally ended his Holocaust, past-life as a Nazi dentist guilt-complex–once and for good.  Another death. I was truly happy for him.

On to the library, I discovered a freshly written blog about a 91 year old millionaire who still drives his own Porshe and exudes enough charm and finesse to lure 20-something beauties into conversation. If he was 40-70 years old: Creepy. Call the cops. But at 90-you’ve paid your dues in the death zone; you be running on borrowed time. He gets a free pass.

Though I’m not sure I should applaud, crack a wry smile or ask for a ride. I use to be impressed by a 91 year old Californian who could ride his bike 5 miles to pick up his new teeth. But this is New York; 91 there is an entirely different animal.

Horizontal mode beckoned- but before I could leave the library, The Reaper and his darling wife led me to an aptly-titled book-Last Breath: Cautionary tales from the limits of human endurance. (Of course the word ‘endurance’ is not in my dictionary-so it is a relative term open for interpretation.)

The deathly couple’s seal the deal moment came when they pointed me to the book’s cover quotation:

“UN-PUT-DOWNABLE stories of outdoor catastrophe and death, carefully and vividly told…”

I checked the book out and headed home, knowing full well that a ‘Ten Commandments dream delusion’ was brewing.

I’m in the Heston part, of course. Desert crossing, near death but playing God’s soldier, the Almighty’s right hand man–plus every 50-something’s dream oasis ending:

Water, figs and after a heroic beating-off of thieves and thugs—the reward: a dozen maidens all vying for my affection.

My expanded version crept in later.

I’m traveling 32 mph on my old Kestrel racing bike along a beautiful country road; then hiking the final steps to the summit of Mount Shasta with my cousin; moments later traveling nearly 50 mph down the Squaw Valley Ski Resort downhill course, KT-22, once again just ahead of my uncle.

How is it possible, I wander into lucidity.

A medicine man appears. He tells me that the India parasitic blood disease is destroyed; the Thailand tiger-bite virus-healed; the lyme-tick thingy- eradicated; and the liver has magically been restored from the sodium-fluoroacetate poisoning.

Then the nocturnal hallucination morphs–the medicine man says the ayahuasca-induced trance has ended.

I wake up. Rolling to my left side, grabbing my liver in pain, ready to puke.

It’s morning.

The nausea is dancing with brain fog. I raise up, using all my energy, pausing to pick some debris crust from my eyes. I lean forward and gravity takes me to the tea kettle ‘on’ switch. I squat waiting.

Boil.

Green tea rescue remedy.

The tea leaves soon begin to open. I take the cup to my yoga mat in front of the back meadow window.

The heavenly spot.

The early morning rays of sun dance across the grasses. I take a few sips, slowly moving from idle to low rev.

Basking begins. The rapture of wakefulness without thought. The space where human frailty and form doesn’t apply.

Silence. Gratitude. Love. Expanding. It is the Holy Presence. The natural state. There’s no Grim Reaper here, no dream at all, This is the bliss of being.

I don’t have to breathe. Even that is done for me.

And when the last breath comes, the body rental suit will lie still; the Breather will remain. God pays the mortgage, rent and decides eviction times.

Once Bliss is made your own, nothing can take you away. The direct perception of the Eternal ONE–Why would I ever leave THAT?!

Preparing for a Graceful Exit…

I have been dealing with progressively debilitating symptoms in the last months. The need to move from sitting to lying down crops up often. I call it: Going Horizontal—it should be a new-age death musical.

“He’s going horizontal, He’s going horizontal, I really think so…” Ha.

I have been watching the dwindle. First it was a reduction from a brisk hiking pace to a slow meander. Then the hiking meander went to ‘walking’. Then standing. Finally sitting. This is a new place now. I utilize an innovative new static sitting yoga.

I call it: Beyond Yin Yoga and charge 1000 a week for training (an additional 100 for the manual).

Ever wonder what Skippy has up his sleeve next?! Skippy is a nickname for God Almighty, given by my 80-something friend. Like God is on a jar of peanut butter too and is chunky and smooth at the same time.

In Eastern spiritual teachings they use the term prarabdha karma—which is the karma storage due to express and be experienced by a particular form in this lifetime.  And there’s no way around it. No fudging, pleading, nor prayers Sunday, anger on Monday, tissy on Tuesday or wonderful Wednesday that is gonna change that destiny one iota.

God, we sure do try though, don’t we?

As the sages, saints and masters tell us, it matters not how incredibly awesome our little personal entity-identity has been in this life.  The dickhead down the street who drinks heavily, eats a ton of shit food, beats his girlfriend and watches TV all day…well he may still get Granny Gretchen’s trust fund for 3 million and live to be 100 in near-perfect health. (Okay he will be suffering like a mad dog inside even if you can’t see it) —-but you, me and the rest of the so-called do-gooders may well have to rot in a basement cellar with our only food coming once every 3 days, a TV dinner and a few stiff kicks to the side….the only sound we hear may well be that of a lonely dog howling. All of this is the surface appearance. When we attune to our Innermost Being and let God’s manifestation naturally unfold—we realize that Peace is already here no matter what.

All of

If you realize the Truth about destiny, you see that it is fruitless to try to negotiate with God. Prayer is fine but let God’s Will fall as it may.  Why pray for a particular outcome and then lose faith when it doesn’t happen?!

Surrender and let go, let God—as the saying goes. Witnessing the miraculous along with the miserable is all that’s left. Then the two, misery and miraculous become indistinct, for now you see that all is GOD.

All the actions of the so-called individual body are just part of the grand show, the dance of creation. Just like the tree that falls in a storm; body’s fall according to their destiny for this life. When they fall, what they experience and go through are all part of that destiny.

In the last weeks an internal bucket list has been forming–a vision of all the ‘that would be nice scenarios, events and happenings’. Yet no attachment to whether or if they happen, no expectation of outcome is there, no begging or prayer either. The bucket items aligned with destiny will come to pass—as Ramana would say ‘that much is certain’. Then add:

“The purpose of one’s birth will fulfill itself whether you will it or not. Let the purpose fulfill itself.”

Ramana’s truth pointer leaves no room for individuality, for all is only the manifestation of God, all forms and the formless are only That.

I am setting up my Will, POLST (physicians order for life sustaining treatment–though I don’t have a physician, ha) and advanced directive forms. I already have my body set up on Stanford’s willed body program, so no additional cost is thrust on my family for funeral or burial.

I’ve had a good life, a lucky life. I was born in the United States, home of the free, land of promise, with a good portion of the populace here in America having some pretty solid prarabdha: you know: shelter, water and ample food.

That cannot be said about those living in many other places on planet Earth. I’ve experienced vibrant health, been able to do extreme adventures, seen amazing nature areas, like: Thailand, India, Hawaii, the Grand Canyon and Yosemite. Yep, lucky life. I have an incredibly heart-centered daughter, who at age 9, on her own, sent 5 dollars of her savings money to me while I was in India:

“Daddy, please give this to a person in need.” That deserves a blog all its own–for to find such a one in India is not hard at all—you have millions to choose from—but which one…?

My father was pure heart, mom is always helping others; and rest of my family has been supportive of the journey in many ways. Great friends. Yep, lucky.

The deepest grace of all has been the direct experience of reality, of Truth-which has blossomed in depth and is beyond expression. For until the path of Truth & Love took over the rest of my life was spent on useless things.

Once this life was focused on Truth & Love, the real life began; the rest a waste of time. A mystical aliveness, a soul-quality or what I call: presence have remained as part of direct experience of the Self- shining eternal.

That is salvation. For salvation is not for ‘me’, not for a person or individual-but the removal of the veil of the person, the erroneous idea of “I, me and mine”-then the Christ Consciousness blooms unmasked from delusion –the promise of all true religions and spiritual pursuits is fulfilled.

That insight never leaves, so when Michael-body drops from the field of play, I will remain as I have always been. Timeless, spaceless, formless pure consciousness, absolute awareness.

As the rest of the so-called world gets busier and more crazy, I just watch. As one saint said:

“I watch my body slough off like an unused garment.” For it is God’s garment anyway, always has been. The skin-cloth just on loan for a while.

Admitting that the body is preparing for the exit door, maybe even gracefully, is an intense journey. As my end of life client nears his final hours, any day, any moment–tis the same for this one, for Michael, for me.

I find myself contemplating the death of the Michael-form -an idea cultivated and conditioned into place since birth.

What is left: Watch the Almighty wind of God, wondering what is in store, like a tiny leaf skimming across the ground, barely touching the earth, yet knowing nothing can harm who and what I truly am.

 

 

Soon the Al-Anon Adventure…

I’ve known my friend Tina for 36 years. We first met at a small town delicatessen, in the summer of 1981. Tina, equal parts singer-songwriter and gardener is a mix between Bonnie Raitt and Beatrix Potter. One hand mimicking song, the other swirling soil. Our relationship has endured some long periods for integration and disentanglement- of subtle and not so subtle threads of conditioning and attachment. We’ve had one period during that stretch where we did not see each other for 9 years: had no communication via phone, text, email or other device. During those other 27 years, we have seen each other several times a year, sometimes more, sometimes less.

Tina, some 10 years ago had a drunk driving arrest. She was skidding along the alcohol gutter but had not yet hit rock bottom. Then after a couple more years, another DUI; this second one landed her in a Christian camp called Teen Challenge. Here Tina was sent, a 50-something women amidst a group of 30 some odd teen girls- all being ‘punished’ for alcohol or drug-related offenses. Apparently the judge was having a bad hair day, hearing too many horrific tales of alcohol-related catastrophes. Tina, he decided like some kind of psychic-law-dispenser, was trapped in the emotional body of a teen and thus needed to be treated as such.  The judge sentenced Tina to a 13-month incarceration at this ‘religious prison for teens’, as Tina called it. As much as this event brought her intense trauma, it also delivered gifts: sobriety, increased insight, healing and a teen friend soulmate (big sister-little sister relationship), among others benefits.

In the last months, I have sensed that Tina has begun to drink again. This started when I swung by her house; she was not home. I checked her backyard/garden area. She was not there either but her cat Sarge-a large, exquisite Main Coon, was. Sarge, luxuriated on a old pillow nestled in the shade under an outdoor umbrella.

“Your Majesty,” I smiled. Sarge looked up with calm, uninterested eyes. I began to massage him gently.

“Now you’re on it! What is it you need to know?” Sarge turned slightly as if to order my hands about like court jesters.

“You are the King, Sire.” I mused. He seemed please with my respect and allowed me to stay. The Main Coon’s have an interesting history, as they may well be the offspring of Persian and Angora cats mixed with a common shorthair variety.

As I sat in Tina’s creative masterpiece, the garden, I felt her energy through the cat, and the earth. I continued my communion with Mr. Sarge:

“So Tina is disappearing into the Sauce again, huh?!”

Sarge nodded, a nonchalant acknowledgement. I continued with my queries: “Sipping on the granny’s grain store, is she? Downing the grape nectar!” I continued.

Finally Sarge spoke:

“What’s a cat to do?”

For the alcoholic thinks they can get away with it—“as long as I don’t drive, as long as I don’t do this or that…just keep the drinking in moderation…” -and on the rationalization goes. All you have to do is read the story of Bill W., one of the founders of AA, to get an inkling of the damage that alcohol can cause.

I don’t know if my ‘intuition’ is on or not about Tina’s alcohol. I do know that she is in some kind of avoidance energy. Tina knows that the mask will come off if she sees me. I will know right away if she has been drinking. And when denial mechanisms have become entrenched again, truth must be avoided at all costs, so that one is able to continue their manipulative ways and self-deceit.

I’ve always been a diver. Jump first, review later. It’s served me well and been my nemesis at the same time.  When I began to share my intuitions with my Bestie, as we call each other, she shared her insights. (Bestie: This playful, childlike phrase was borrowed from her 8 year old nephew- as he describes his schoolmate/girlfriend and future wife using the term “Bestie’).

My Bestie said, after a lengthy discourse on mechanisms of lock and key conditioning, how the savior-enabler-healer pattern is the other side of the addiction pattern.

“Al-Anon,” my Bestie said, “can bring light and awareness to this codependent side, the enabler side, and help you see how it plays into Tina’s addiction pattern. My Bestie should know, she went to Al-Anon for years and extracted much wisdom. My Bestie’s own mother slipped into mental illness when she was 7 years old (she took over as the mom at age 7) while at the same time her father was an alcoholic who drank heavily at night after work.

Soon we were on to the benefits of Al-Anon which she claims is an authentic enlightenment tradition. “AA is a true awakener, the 12 steps mirror the spiritual path.” She continued–as the original founders of AA and many other have had legitimate spiritual awakenings that have transformed them from the inside out.

Alanon is one of the AA-Sister Organizations, for those with friends, close associates or family who are alcoholics or drug addicts.  “You’ll see the savior pattern operating in others and that will make it easier for you to see within yourself.” My Bestie finished.

I could not resist. And at first the comedic cover up jumped, originally seeing the Al-Anon thing  from the investigative reporter angle (for I am completely clear of all issues and will just write a nice piece about it from the safe space of the heavens)–so I belted forth my monologue:

“Hi, I’m Michael, an enabler and savior—not the Savior, a savior. I just want to say ‘I love you all and I am here for you. You’ll be seeing a lot of me in the next month. I’ll have a signup sheet for those needing any free unsolicited healings, spiritual guidance, help, enabling or saving’…”

My Bestie laughed a hearty chuckle.

It will be an interesting experience no doubt. I shall share in the coming weeks.

Spiritual Simplicity…

The Indian sage Nisargadatta was a true bhakti, a sanskrit word meaning: true devotional lover of God, Pure Consciousness, the Self. In his 30’s, Nisargadatta met a spiritual Master and began to intensify spiritual practices. He began to, as he said:

“…spend all of his spare time breaking down the walls his mind had built around him…”

Then Nisargadatta would add an admonishment to those that came to him:

“Believe me, you will not regret.”

Nisargadatta’s meditation technique, if you can call it that, was to: “Stay with”, what he called – The “I amness”–(the beingness, the presence, what Christians might call ‘the soul’). The rest of his life was a consecration to THAT, to SOUL.

Devotion poured out of him. In his later years, an ego-piercing wisdom challenged all those who brought spiritual posturing and intellectual protective mechanisms, beliefs, concepts and ideas. Many could not stay in his presence long because his truth grenades would strip one down to their most essential nature. Once asked by a devotee what would happen to those that just peaked in the door or stayed only a minute or two–“are they lost?!” Nisargadatta said and I paraphrase:

“No, it’s too late, the seed (of truth) has been planted. It will sprout in due course.”

His profound insights and what he called jnana or wisdom-knowledge – came through his satsangs (truth gatherings) with a fiery intensity. Often during short periods before or after his talks, the devotional side, the loving-motherly tenderness would invoke tears of gratitude, washing away years of pain and toil in a brief instant.

Nisargadatta always focused on the Source, using the most direct language. Mixing Jnana, that wisdom-knowledge, with bhakti, the devotional love, like two roaring rivers converging into the Sea.

For over 20 years I have read Nisargadatta words, sitting in silence, meditating, feeling and contemplating their Power. I have seen how these spiritual pointers, his expose’, are immensely practical, and down to earth. How simple. For a child could understand what he is saying about God. For God, it seems, through centuries and centuries has taken on a massive of conceptual framework and belief structure. As George Carlin joked during one of this comedy routines:

“…We’re taught that God is a spooky little man who lives upstairs (George points towards heaven) and he watches everything we do. And He has 10 things he does not want you to do. If you do any of these 10 things, there is a special place full of fire, death, torture, disease and hell, the he’ll send you til the end of time.” George take a legendary pause and looks at the audience before delivering the punch)–“But he loves you….”

Many people are conflicted about religion, spirituality and God. And the genius-wisdom-love of the saints was their ability to make the Soulic-energy of God, so seemingly complex and esoteric, easily understood. Nisargadatta said this:

“The physical body, the body-mind apparatus, is regarded highly. But can the body be as pure as the life force? Make friends with the lifeforce (Soulic-energy of God, Pure Consciousness that animates the body) then you will need no other help- for that lifeforce is the Source (God). This lifeforce sustains the body forms, all forms. In the absence of the lifeforce can anyone act at all? You do not need anything to pray to this lifeforce…”

The sages were grounded in Reality. They show us a way out of the mind; pointed to a new life, our only real life. These profound truths chip away at the conditioning patterns, slay the latent tendencies of mind, destroy belief systems and dislodge conceptual misunderstanding.

The spiritual path always ends where it began, as the Masters tell us:

There is nothing to search for, no thing to seek. Only look within and behold what is the very pulse beat of You.

Desire ends there, for you have what you need. Then all your doubts will be cleared. That’s rest. True Peace. You always are That.

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