“Something doesn’t add up”, the cover of this week’s New Scientist proclaims but I didn’t fall for it. I know that the numbers don’t add up and I know that ‘they’ don’t yet know why, so I walk past, the £3.40 safe in my pocket, for a while at least.
A number of men have passed through my hands this summer. There’s Andy and Jock, Shane and Zac; all of them employed to please me, courtesy of the insurance company covering my claim over the flood that descending on my kitchen in June. It pleases me that they have arranged and delivered a freshly papered and painted kitchen, with gleaming new hob and cooker. All that is needed is tomorrow’s electrical connection and then it will be cakes and cookies all the way to winter.
I wonder if I will then feel balanced again. I’ve been feeling decidedly off kilter since the flood, which released a deep insecurity in me. First I wondered about moving and as soon as the possibibility was broached , my back, which has a lot more sense than my thought processes, went into a mini- spasm. Ohho, I thought, time for some growth and sure enough I’ve been hobbling ever since, grateful that it doesn’t hurt like sciatica but aware that it is the sciatic nerve that is being tweaked. Old griefs, Culpepper puts it down to.
I’ve had a lot of trouble with my left side over the years-the female side, caused by a dominant male presence in my adolescence, no doubt. So when life throws in a little grenade, my left side is the first place to be affected. I am very much in touch with my body and I hope this stands me in good stead as I age.
The first and most important aspect of my health regime is to keep away from doctors, hospitals and drugs as far as I possibly can. Next I keep the vibration in my body as high as I can manage with positive, loving thoughts and actions. I stay away from the news, with images of catastrophies I can do nothing about. I am convinced, as is Dr Hulda Regehr Clark, that it is parasites and pollution that make us ill. She has developed a complicated mechanical zapping system to deal with them. I deal with them by raising my frequency via the powerful act of intention. It’s that simple. Parasites cannot exist in higher frequencies, as they thrive on stress, fear and despair. If I can’t manage to raise the frequency enough myself, I have a marvellous kineseologist who can.
So I’ve spent the summer, weak in the calf and the Achilles heel, contemplating health and my approach to it , helped along the way by Dr Hulda’s book that came to hand in a charity shop.It’s called The Cure for All Diseases and is full of wonderful and wacky insights into self healing. Everything in the world of matter has its own frequency and bandwidth. In general she says that the smaller the organism, the lower the frequency and the narrower the bandwidth and provides complicated number charts to back up her theories. I prefer the simpler approach of my kinesiologist who says that as he has progressed through his career he has come to the conclusion that simplicity is the answer. Look to the spiritual and emotional inbalances and the necessary healing will take place.
Some toxicity has hit my system and so I will raise the vibration and aim to clarify the white light that on the left hand side of my body that has been compromised. I raise the frequency through exercising love and forgiveness.
Something that the crop circle community could do with exercising. All hell has broken out in Wiltshire, with some very poor examples of the phenomena over the summer and factions at war. The numbers don’t add there either and there is some very parasitic energy involved. Maybe it’s the same every year but this year it seems to be coming to a head. Zap it with love, I say. The truth is ultimately very simple. It’s just we can’t see it for numbers.
So now that the kitchen is restored to order and my inner life has settled, I fully expect my leg to strengthen. I’ve been through this process before and every time it happens it is less troublesome than the time before. There is no reason to fear that it will get worse as I go on. Age is just a number after all.