CHAPTER 8—ERASING SHAME

We buried Dad the day I last saw Uncle Ed. He was chatting with my favorite childhood cousin, Sue, when  I approached. After some words of consolation, they resumed their conversation about Obama, who was then a year into his presidency. How could such a thing have happened? Naturally, I confessed to my part in the debacle. In addition to voting for a black man, I'd volunteered during his campaign.

Ed turned to me and said with a wry grin, "Well, that's really too bad, Jan. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut you out of my will."

I knew he was kidding. What I didn't yet know was that Dad had left nothing, not a single cent of his small fortune to any of his four children.

Firstborn to my paternal grandparents, Ed was the last to pass. Like his mother and her father before her, he died at the age of one-hundred-and-one. Upon departure, he made a cameo appearance in my dream to ask if there was a message he could take to Dad on my behalf.

"I haven't forgiven him!"

My admission surprised me, but Ed understood. I wasn't angry about money. Careful analysis of my astrological birth chart had softened the blow years in advance by showing no indication of parental inheritance, so my disappointment, though real,  was short lived. The resentment I still harbored stemmed from his chosen method of exit. I get it, he was done! If only the End of Life Option had been available when his life became unbearable, we'd have been able to view his corpse. We'd have had closure!

As dreams go, Ed vanished and Dad appeared in his place. After a brief conversation about events that occurred in our family he apologized, not for the way he ended his life, but for holding an attitude of entitlement. He knows it was wrong, and said he is sorry.

Since his death, he had never once appeared to me in a dream until now. This was the closure I needed, and just as I thanked him, my mother appeared in his place.

She was my mother, without a doubt, but she appeared regally attired in the form of an Egyptian queen and told me she would now teach me to erase shame so that I could perform this service for my ancestors.

This is what she said: "Shame is the wound in which every form of sickness and sadness takes root. Whether it arises from something you've done or something that was done to you makes no difference. It must be transmuted. Are you ready to erase shame?"

"Yes." I bore witness to her transfiguration into crystalline light as she invited me into her heart. Without displacing her, I merged into her being and I, too, was the Egyptian queen while my vibratory field steadily calibrated to pure innocence. The shift was palpable, and once it was complete, I automatically reemerged as my own being but with actual physical awareness of nonduality.

"This was your initiation. Now you can do it. Start with your father."

In the blink of an eye, Dad reappeared and I repeated the Queen's question, "are you ready to erase shame?"

"Yes."

The process ensued just as before. One by one, deceased relatives appeared. Each said YES to erasing shame. Grandparents. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins. My ex-husband. In-laws. People I've never heard of. Many hours passed in this way.

Nearly three weeks have gone by since Uncle Ed crossed over. During this time, I've slept like a newborn, even taking naps during the day. It feels like restorative sleep that's preparing me for an enormous change.

I'm not suggesting this is the only way to erase shame, but if you're ready, you might give it a try.

Basal Cell Carcinoma Update

Finally, seeing renewed progress. After nearly a year of being at a standstill with my home remedies, I rummaged through my first aid bin and came across a tube of mupirocin, which the dermatologist had prescribed for the procedural wound he had caused. I googled and found it was used to prevent bacterial infection. Hmmm.

New experiment. Out of curiosity, I asked Mike to continue cleaning the carcinomas with the eggplant-vinegar but to dispense with the medihoney concoction and use the mupirocin instead. The medihoney is a strong antibacterial, but the results show that I may have built up a tolerance to it. In any case, the carcinomas apparently respond favorably to antibacterial compounds. Makes me wonder.

3/11/2019

If you're new to my blog and want a detailed account of my progress using home remedies for the carcinomas click here.

ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD

When I was a child I had a recurrent dream about money. Alone, I sat in the garage attached to our family home by a breezeway where I was surrounded by piles and piles of money. Coins and stacks of bills formed pyramid shapes from floor to ceiling. All the money in the world was right there with me in our garage which grew in size as I counted the piles. But beyond the garage walls, the world was engulfed in flames. I couldn't see the fire, but the heat bored down on me and I knew there was no escape. Invariably, I awoke in a panic. Where was my family? Where were my friends? What good was all this money?

This dream began when I was four—my family had just moved into the home with the ever-growing garage—and it persisted into my ninth year when we moved to another home. Early on, its occurrence may have coincided with the King Midas bedtime story my mother occasionally read to me. Just guessing. And its persistence may have been inspired by parental disputes over finances because they were loud and frequent. Again, this is just a guess.

This morning, I overheard a conversation that reminded me of the dream and it occurred to me that I've never consciously defused the message. Sure, I can have money. All the money in the world. But no family. No friends. Nowhere to spend it because the world will evaporate into flames. Dang!!!

I've always had a very ambiguous relationship with money. I like having it. At times, I've been good at accruing it. But the knowledge that it has no intrinsic value has always been a stumbling block. Tonight, I will convert that knowledge into an asset by revisiting the infinitely-growing garage that houses the money. There, I will reconfigure the dream. Better late than never!

CHAPTER 7—THE WOUNDED HEALER

We are all wounded healers. Healing is a life-calling for some, but everyone who has recovered from a cold or watched a scratch form a scab that eventually fell away has the ability to heal. That pretty much includes everybody. We don't need to study or learn how because it comes naturally. The first inkling I had of intentional access to my own healing abilities came through a leaf soon after my hysterectomy when I was twenty-eight.

A friend had invited me to take a course with her to develop our intuition. The course was taught by a lovely Gypsy lady named Ursula who had previously read our palms, or maybe it was cards, and the classes were held in her upscale home in southern California. If memory serves me, there were eight of us in attendance, all of us ladies. Nowadays, this is not groundbreaking, but back in the day, it bordered on being scandalous. Past life and/or ancestral memories of being burned at the stake as witches caused flares of anxiety that we hinted at but never actually discussed. Nonetheless, we persisted in our quest to become more intuitive.

One evening, Ursala led us to a jade plant growing in a large pot on her patio in the back yard where she instructed each of us to choose a leaf and pluck it from the plant. She then led us back inside and told us to make a tear in the leaf we had chosen without actually pulling it apart. Carefully, we examined each others' leaves. Mine was torn along the vein from top to bottom, save about a quarter inch from the stem. Then we placed our leaves in plastic sandwich baggies and took them home for repair.

The assignment: As instructed, I held the leaf between my hands and felt loving feelings three or four times a day.  Usually, I focused on my kids. I envisioned their faces lighting up with joy over ordinary things. The promise of an ice cream cone. A walk to the park. Playing with the litter of puppies snuggled up to their mama in the basement. Watching birds and smelling flowers at the Arboretum. Helping me to bake a cake. Reading to me. That's right! As soon as they could sound out words, they eagerly took their storybooks out of my hands and became the narrators. Once I was totally saturated with love, I set the leaf aside until the next time.

Love is the healer! The following week, we ladies showed up with our leaves. The tear in mine was almost completely healed. I'm sharing so that you can perform this easy little experiment and prove it to yourself. A jade plant or any succulent with large broad leaves is a good choice because the severed leaf won't wither before it can heal. Sad to say, many years passed before it ever occurred to me to love myself. During your experiment, I hope you'll add yourself to the equation. I'm not talking about pampering. I want you to feel the same intensity of love for yourself that you feel for your child, your beloved pet, or your lover. Just give it a try. I'd love to hear your results.

Next chapter coming soon

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CHAPTER 6—MA BEAR & THE END OF THE PATRIARCHY

According to Greek mythology, Zeus set the Great Bear in the sky to protect her from his jealous wife, but prior to Hera's revenge, Ma Bear was Callisto, an exceptionally beautiful nymph whose love of hunting inspired her devotion to the Goddess Artemis. Artemis required a vow of perpetual virginity from all her devotees because she wanted them unencumbered by domestic chores and thus free to pursue the hunt.

One afternoon while Callisto napped in the woods, Zeus caught sight of her and was totally captivated by her beauty. The bow and quiver by her side tipped him off—she had taken the vow—so he disguised himself to look like Artemis. That way, he could rouse her without causing alarm. But once she was fully awake, the disguise failed and she fought him off with all her might. Nonetheless, Zeus had his way with her.

Silently, Callisto bore her shame which grew far deeper with the realization that she was pregnant. As her time drew near, Artemis called her entire retinue into a lovely pond for a moonlit bath. Callisto demurred, but Artemis insisted, so she reluctantly disrobed. Furious at Callisto for breaking the vow, Artemis grabbed her by the hair, threw her out of the pond and sent her away. 

From Mount Olympus, Zeus watched as Callisto gave birth to his son. Feeling something was amiss, Hera spied on her husband while he watched. Accurately, she intuited his infidelity and retaliated by turning Callisto into a bear. While Hera gloated, Zeus found a nurse to care for his son. 

No longer a huntress, Callisto was now prey. Year after year, she was hunted down like a wild beast until the fateful day when she came face to face with her own son. Unaware that the bear in his sight was his mother, the boy drew his bow. Just as the arrow was about to strike, Zeus intervened by hurling them both into the sky where they live eternally among the stars. 

The archetypes embedded in this myth define much of the necessary unraveling currently happening in our ascension process. Zeus, the ultimate patriarch, is characterized by his sense of entitlement. He cares enough to save Callisto from certain death, but only after he has robbed her of the independent life she chose, then of the experience of motherhood which he forced upon her. Surely, Hera's jealousy is to blame for the later, but wasn't it Zeus who pushed the button? Artemis, cold-hearted and inflexible, sees only from her own perspective. She can't even ask a question because she's unwilling to be swayed by the answer. And Callisto is the victim of her own beauty. 

As we ascend from paternity consciousness to unity consciousness, we recognize all the above traits within ourselves. Entitlement, jealousy, inflexibility, and victimhood are not gender-exclusive. By owning our undesirable qualities, we develop genuine compassion for ourselves and for others. Compassion, above all other traits, facilitates soul integration. The character defects personified by the gods predate the patriarchy and harken back to the pre-historic matriarchy. We are rapidly moving beyond that polarity towards the Divine Feminine which is Heart Centered Unity. 

What does the Great Bear myth have to do with the Four Keepers of the Temple and their Earthly mission? To answer that question, I must tell you about Ma Bear's right front paw, which is composed of two sets of binary stars known as Talitha Borealis and Talitha Australis. To the naked eye, each set appears as a single star when in fact the two sets are a system of four stars. We, the Four Keepers, came to Earth through this star system in Ma Bear's front paw so that we could absorb all of her wounds. It's worth mentioning that the planet Mars was right on the paw at 2 degrees of Leo[1], lending energy and strength to bear the suffering Callisto endured. It's also worth mentioning that the four stargates we passed through hold the etheric imprints of the four races—yellow, red, black and white—and that's the order in which we entered the temple.

Yellow (0-12): With black hair and slanted almond-shaped eyes, The Asian imprint was so prominent at Jan's birth that friends teasingly asked her mother if she'd slept with the Chinese grocer. Within months, the black hair disappeared, and throughout her twelve-years in the temple, Jan never grew used to the yellow hair and blue eyes reflected in the mirror. When she was nine, she received a sewing machine for Christmas and the first items she taught herself to make were Asian-style outfits with Mandarin collars for her dolls.

Red (12-28): Jan Two lived in a constant state of déjà vu. Of course, she'd never heard that word and couldn't imagine asking anyone to explain the memories that surfaced while she studied the indigenous cultures of Central and South America, but the parochial school setting brought back to life the Spanish conquest when, as a child slave, she had never questioned her submission to the patriarchy.

Black (28-41): Jan Three fully embraced her sexuality. Of the four keepers, she was by far the most social, sensual, intellectual and rebellious. Constantly surrounded by artists and musicians, her life was defined by creative pursuits. Fiercely passionate, she's the one who gathered the courage to start breaking free from the patriarchy.

White (41- ): Just like my predecessors, I used Jan's name, but only for a short time. Then I took my true name. As Briah, I've reclaimed The Hermit, but I also embody the Wounded Healer archetype. If you've read the previous chapters, the personal implications are obvious. Until I exit this sacred body temple, I will continue to err in judgment, so I am honor-bound to stay the course. But healing goes far beyond my personal wounds. I carry the wounds of my predecessors. And since the four of us entered through the four stargates, I carry the ancestral wounds of the four races. Indeed, several healers who worked with me during my early forties claimed that the grief I carried was totally disproportionate my personal suffering. They were right.

[1] LEO 2—A horn of brass to be used as a hearing aid. Subnormal and supernormal as one. Bearing a karmic handicap in which you cannot get away from yourself for a moment. Yet this opens the doors to a destiny-dedication that is monumentally strong. Your world reverberates endlessly with your own individual themes. You are trapped in the form of individual selfhood. Yet for all its excesses and fanaticisms, this is the perfect situation to lead you through to where you need to go. Because by meeting yourself at every turn, in every possible guise, you are deeply pulled down into a self-expansive pathway where there had been extreme constriction and radical blockage. The transition is arduous and consuming. It feels as though it is impossible to break through. But the very things that characteristically and thematically just will not let you go shall become the ultimate springboard. You wear out your old programs the hard and laborious way, by being at their mercy and learning that somebody in here is ready for something fantastically different and will do whatever it takes to thin out all the delusions, and make personal egoism intolerable, insufferable, and just too big of a joke not to get, ever again.— Inside Degrees. Developing Your Soul Biography Using the Chandra Symbols, Ellias Lonsdale

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CHAPTER 5—THE FANTASY BYPASS

What does it mean? Merriam-Webster defines bypass as a transitive verb meaning "to avoid, neglect or ignore." The Fantasy Bypass means that instead of allowing inappropriate sexual attraction to lead us into the realm of imagination, we consciously choose another path.

But why should we deny ourselves harmless pleasure? Because it's not entirely harmless. Remember, sexual energy is lifeforce, and when we use it irresponsibly, we deplete our own stores of wellness. Energetically, we can negatively impact others as well, especially if we fantasize about one who may not be a consenting participant in real life. No need to elaborate on this point. But there's good news! The alternate path can lead to harmless bliss, and it's far easier than you might think.

How to practice the Fantasy Bypass in response to sexual arousal. Close your eyes and physically turn them upward as if you're looking through the fontanelle. Imagine it is still an open portal, just as it was when you were newly born. Automatically, your facial muscles will relax and your breathing will begin to deepen.

While fully aware of the kundalini swirling in your sacral chakra, keep your attention on the breath and constantly refocus your gaze upward. Your upward gaze is the bypass because it circumvents fantasy. Inexplicably, pleasure intensifies. It's really that simple.

Even if your chakras are blocked, patient persistence may move the kundalini all the way up through the fontanelle. But if memories and emotions surface along the way and demand your attention, terminate the process by saying ENOUGH! Then take all the time you need before you resume, even if it's a day or a week. No rush.

With preparation, a gentle experience is assured. How can you prepare? Regular practice of the exact same technique in the absence of sexual arousal primes the pump. In this case, I wouldn't call it the Fantasy Bypass; it's just a simple meditation. Nonetheless, the kundalini slowly rises. The experience is pleasant, if not ecstatic, but, if ecstasy is what you're going for—and why not?—you'll be ready for a smooth ride through the chakras the next time arousal occurs.

Bear in mind, the Fantasy Bypass addresses inappropriate sexual arousal. It's not always inappropriate. I received the practice in meditation long ago when I was attracted to a man who was off-limits. It has brought me to the heights of ecstasy and helped me to resolve devastating emotions. That's why I am sharing. Despite my personal understanding, I'm not an expert on Tantra, kundalini or the chakras. If you need help or want more information, my first recommendation is the lovely Aluna Ash.

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CHAPTER 4—AWAKENING

Thirty years ago, my recovery from metastatic breast cancer was considered a medical miracle that astounded my doctors and unmistakably confirmed my calling as a healer. For two reasons, I chose to become a massage therapist. The first reason was easy to talk about. I had received regular therapeutic massage during my recovery process, and I knew it was the catalyst that rendered my medical treatments effective, but I rarely spoke of the second reason, which totally resonated with my life purpose of restoring the sanctity of human sexuality.

Though it was never my experience, I know people who’ve been sexually violated on the massage table—and I’ve even encountered therapists who chose the profession because it afforded opportunity—so I consecrated my massage table as a sacred altar where my clients would always feel safe. In the safety of that sacred space, many clients spontaneously purged the sexual violations they'd endured.

When I was new to the work, messages from Jesus and Mother Mary frequently came through to comfort my clients.  But once I was able to activate instantaneous alignment between myself and my oversoul, the work nearly always proceeded in total silence, and post-treatment conversations with my clients revealed a far deeper release without any drama.

I imagine you may be wondering, how did I perceive my oversoul? Good question.

She is a luminous Black Madonna, so enormous in stature that my body is fully contained in the space between her ankles. Her feet are bare, and she wears a white turban on her head, clasped on one side with a pin fashioned of small turquoise and malachite stones wrapped in silver. A simple unadorned gown of white linen drapes her ample frame. And her hands emit the healing light of unconditional love for all humanity. To this day, she has never uttered a word, and I cannot name her.

Alignment with my beautiful Black Madonna was automatic during interactions with my clients, but social situations sometimes presented challenges I fumbled through. My faux pas came to a climax in a spiritual setting where I witnessed the group leader misusing his sexual energy by literally lassoing women at random with thick orange strands emanating from his second chakra. He was not necessarily attracted to these ladies, but the lasso ensured their attraction to him, and he fed off of their energy. I'd witnessed this same scenario numerous times in other settings and said nothing, but this time was different because I was caught in his net, so I decided to speak up.

He was very surprised that I was aware of his shenanigans but readily admitted to the accuracy of my perceptions, and despite the awkward circumstances, I fostered a friendship because I remembered an intense past life relationship with him (click here to read). Our connection, which had never been romantic, eventually came to an abrupt end when he said he never wanted to see or hear from me again. Shocked to my core, I couldn't make sense of his rejection, but once I worked through my grief, I understood.

It was the sexual energy. As stated above, I was one of many women randomly caught in his net. He had no romantic interest in me, and I certainly had no desire to seduce him, but I did seize upon the rare opportunity to practice a tantric technique I'd received in meditation which I call the Fantasy Bypass. The situation was rare only because I hadn't felt sexual attraction for many years, and it's a required component of the practice. Bypassing fantasy allowed me to enjoy the rising kundalini without desiring so much as a kiss. During the course of our friendship, he acquired a girlfriend who became jealous, despite the fact that I posed no threat whatsoever.

My first faux pas was exposure. It wasn't my job to call him out, and doing so led to confusion and misunderstandings that hurt his girlfriend and ultimately terminated a friendship I valued. I'm not suggesting that exposure has no validity—the #MeToo Movement was long overdue—but I know for a fact that my friend felt judged by my observation, and judgment does not heal. I am a healer.

I'm telling this story only because it relates to my life purpose of restoring the sanctity of human sexuality. Despite my fumble, I understood that sexual attraction may be inappropriate but it is never wrong. When it arises inappropriately, we have the power and the responsibility to engage the Fantasy Bypass (next chapter). Then, if we choose, we can use the breath to pump the kundalini up the spinal column and enjoy a blissful state of consciousness without violating anyone on any level. Properly used, this is an invaluable tool. One word of caution, however, which I learned the hard way. Keep it to yourself! When we're friends with a guy, it's easy to lose sight of that fact that he's not a girlfriend, and by telling this guy about the technique I'd mastered, I instigated a colossal misunderstanding. 

I was already forty-three when I began my healing practice which still provided a limited source of income through my mid-sixties. Now that I'm retired, The Hermit holds full sway. But even in the absence of a social life, I cannot escape the news of human trafficking, sexual abuse in our religious institutions which has been covered up for centuries, and the grave misuse of sexual power in our homes, schools, and workplaces. Awareness of the magnitude of human suffering on this planet due to sexual misguidance has given me the opportunity to expand my healing practice exponentially. In solitude, I hold every person who comes to mind—victim and perpetrator alike—in the pure template of male/female polarity in the Realm of the Archangels where innocence is restored. Of course, there's no money in it, but my story is an invitation. If you feel called, please join me in this labor of love. It's easy! And if you're reading this, I know you're capable. God bless!

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