Formative Years

Why, the Partner asked a bit pugnaciously, don’t YOU do curses?  We found ourselves going to Red Bluff for the second time that morning, pursuant to a planned power outage and thus needing to get a generator for back up power AND said generator having a defective breaker switch and not working as we unplugged our wiring set up and struggled against the rising thermometer.  His position, and he’s sticking to it, is that a curse has been placed on us and THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING.

I was able to contemplate that query with amazing calm, given the situation.  I didn’t even have my head explode when we got to Red Bluff and realized the problem was yet another blankety blank breaker switch.  Which we’d had plenty of already that week, what with our landlords not fixing the rinky dink electric set up we live with and thus, yes, no power, no water.  We could be in New Delhi.  Anyway after a long volley of cross words we did get Bum Breaker One resolved, then on to the second.  In the end it all worked out and I wondered to myself whether I had developed proper gratitude (nothing caught fire! we made it through another day!) or just finally lost my mind altogether.

But back to why I don’t do curses.  Not my area, I said to him.  It seems a bit ham handed to me, after due reflection.  Curses involve exerting power on this, human, plane and usually stem from fear, anger, desire for power over others.  They’re violent, in a sense.  Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth and I started following the path of the unseen that sort of thing didn’t make sense to me- so much mystery to open up, why bother forcing things to do what your limited capacity can think up?   Also, bad karma, and like most things that are unproductive, way too complex and too much to remember.  Good, if we can use that generic term Gentle Reader, is at once simpler and harder.  The Partner, upon hearing this, blinked in that way dogs do when you’ve taken their picture once too many times with the flash on.  I suppose he puts up with a lot.

I don’t think there’s a curse on us, particularly, either.  The whole planet is shifting and we’re all being solar flared to within an inch of our electromagnetic lives.   This particular adventure in weird living we got propelled into will reveal the twists and turns of plot when it is good and ready.  In the meantime we’re feeling our way with our hands and there are sure one hell of a lot of stickers and thorns.  There’s definitely a path through this culture that some have found and it appears to work for them in terms of worldly success.  Those of us who were, however, apparently behind the barn door when the fitting in thing was handed out just have a different road to walk.  For me, it all seems pretty clear from this vantage point; much if not all of what we got told as kids was total, complete, absolute hogwash.  The question is how to walk through that with an open mind and heart after looking at all the putative wrong turns that have been taken.  Anyway, we’re out here in the woods and I don’t do curses.

But.  Here’s something interesting from this morning’s research for some nausea and stomach cures.  In HEALING WITH ESSENTIAL OILS, Kurt Schnaubelt notes the following:

“An observation by Jeffrey Yuen: The most important duty of the immune system is to distinguish self from non-self, and consequently to attack what is foreign.  Since the immune system apparently does not fight cancer, or does so only minimally, we might arrive at the unsettling conclusion that cancer is not foreign.  By extension it would follow that cancer is a part of the self, potentially the expression of a metabolically confused self.  From this would follow that changing the self into a state that does not allow the proliferation of cancer could be a successful strategy.” (p. 190)

The task, then, seems to be always the same.  We must bring those pieces of ourselves which we disown or don’t know into our selves, to begin the work of becoming whole.  I don’t think we can do that by maintaining attitudes of exclusion and power-over.  Now, for some baseball.

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