Crack Monkey, Yoda Dreams
After a lifetime of turning my rage inward, I went through a period of what I call the Slayer, but which my mentor deemed “Crack Monkey, Yoda.” Night after night I dreamed: I would fall asleep, “wake up” with my house shields down (my house was surrounded by a bubble of protection), and under attack from bogeys – in military parlance.
I would go into crack monkey, Yoda mode. I shot arrows, wielded a double-ended light saber, like the one used by the “Star Wars” Mord Sith, and I could, of course, break it in two to take out multiple bogeys. Flips, twirls, dodges, rolls, somersaults, jumps, stabs, and slashes – the night sky reined down the body parts and confetti of vanquished enemies.
I had the coolest ninja moves, a combination of Yoda and Buffy the Vampire Slayer with some Willow, the witch. Magic-wielding hands, I systematically destroyed enemy machines, and bogey tentacles, arms, legs and other body parts when I wasn’t busy slaying by light saber.
Eventually, I stopped dreaming so intensely for the most part. Some dreams still came, though, the most surreal and amusing of which came when an insect with legs that were probably eight or more feet long had those legs embedded in my body. The pain was indescribable. I remember calling out in panic, praying to be heard. Some sword bearing dude showed up and hacked up the bug, but it’s legs had broken off and were still stuck in my body. I was in no condition to work on it myself because I felt sick and horrified; I mean, their were giant bug legs stuck in me.
A healer – this incredibly crotchety, grumpy, muttering, middle-aged man – walked through the door and into my room and immediately began to work on me.
I actually cannot blame him for being grumpy after all he was up to his elbows in gore and muck as he pulled the bug legs and fat gobbets of incredible nastiness out of my body.
At one point he proclaimed, “This is disgusting!”
With all the grumbling and fiercely scowling mien aimed in my direction, he reminded me of Walter Matthau from “Grumpy Old Men.”
All cleaned and healed I thanked him.
“I don’t want your thanks.”
Okaaayyyy, I said, “You have it anyway.”
“Hmmphf” Then, he simply disappeared.
Eventually, the rage and anger phases passed. The dream activity settled down, and I no longer dream battled. Occasionally, I miss it. It was incredibly empowering, which was precisely the point of it. It helped me come to the realization that I can handle anything that comes at me by myself, no matter how scary or insurmountable seeming. I can also ask for help when needed. I wasn’t a victim, I wasn’t a damsel in distress in need of rescue, or a child. I was a warrior goddess; a kickass one at that.
Dreams are weird and yet very illuminating. I found that when life gets stressful, I tend to have more dreams. My unconscious poking me to tune into what’s really going on inside my mind, body, & emotions.
Liver healing and Kuan Yin
My liver still hurt something fierce, which makes sense as I had spent the majority of my life stuffing it with rage.
My Reiki teacher had statues of Kuan Yin, scattered about the room. There was this gorgeous four-foot one in front of the stairs and another tiny one in the corner across from it. In the Holy Fire Reiki class, I was drawn to touch the tiny one in the corner of the room during a break. I sat and breathed and tried to let my mind blank while my right hand touched this statue. I consciously sent love to my liver while focusing on Kuan Yin. Kuan Yin came and helped me with the healing, and it was such a huge relief. My liver wasn’t wholly healed, but it was healed to the extent that I no longer felt agonizing pain anymore. It was more a dull ache from then on.
Kuan Yin is a Spirit Guide, the female equivalent of Jesus in Chinese culture. She often comes to help me heal, and I am always incredibly grateful for her presence.
I continued to give myself Reiki, but I also went to a herbalist, who I will call Mei Ling. Mei Ling has a degree in Chinese medicine. Laid back, down to earth, and very cerebral, she was amazing and totally cool. She, too, is awake and aware. I was nervous to share with her the fact that I have certain abilities and that I had my own awareness of what I needed. It really was odd to say, “Hey, so, I have these two nodules in my liver, and there are all these Spirit Guides that help me out, and my intuition guided me here to get some herbs.”
Mei Ling was like, “Don’t worry. I have heard it all.”
She was totally open to me doing my own thing and crafting a healing plan together.
Mei Ling read my aura finding a couple of spots that were dented, but those weren’t the priority for me. I just really wanted her to feel my liver. She obligingly allowed me to guide her hand to my right side so she could feel the two dark, hard knots located at the center of my liver. Once she felt them, we sat down to chat about a treatment plan. I jokingly said that we we’re going to play at Harry Potter, Defense Against the Dark Arts potion making.
Mei Ling actually adores the Harry Potter series – another reason I felt totally at ease with her.
Since we both agreed that herbal treatments were needed, she allowed me to intuitively pick the herbs I needed, not even blinking an eye as I held my left hand up, felt the energies of the herbs, and the increased tingling sensations when I encountered the ones that I needed, just like the way I choose crystals.
Allowing my deepest & highest good to guide me about the rooms and shelves, feeling the vibrations of the different herbs, jar after jar made their way to the counter at the front of the shop with names I couldn’t pronounce and herbs, I had no way to identify. Chinese herbs, roots, stems, seeds, and flowers, as well as various other herbs.
At first Mei Ling was concerned, “Some of these herbs are contraindicated.”
Checking in with myself, I realized in fact that we were going to make two teas and a topical remedy of some sort.
Mei Ling was game and sat back to watch me continue to gather them.
Once the herbs were all assembled, the sorting began and interestingly enough were the perfect combinations to help my liver. Mei Ling gave me a fantastic Chinese medicine lesson as she weighed the herbs, and ground them up to help release the oils contained within the parts. One of the blends contained root, seed, stem, flower, and leaf, which according to Chinese medicine is balanced. The first mixture was soothing, strengthening, and very anti-inflammatory. The second was “wind” and would help to really clear out the liver and the ointment was “fire.” The topical herbs I had chosen were great to put on the skin but not recommended for internal use and were intensely clearing ones.
The first tea, which had a lot of turmeric, was nasty, nasty, nasty. The second tea was not nearly as gross and upon drinking felt like effervescent bubbles in my liver. Within four days I could already tell a difference in how my side felt. By the end of five weeks in conjunction with the Reiki and LIGHT Work, treating the root of the issues, I had healed fully and completely. I was jazzed: no more pain! Whoop, whoop!!
Unless you have lived with chronic, debilitating pain, it is hard to imagine the absolute blissfulness of being pain free after a year of on and off agony, and then throbbing achiness for many months more.
It was fascinating because the pissed off-ness of my bladder dissipated and healed as I finally let go of all those toxic emotions that had truly poisoned my body for so long.
What I was left with was a healthy form of anger and a new understanding. Our emotions are simply a means to help us identify what’s needed. For instance anger was about my boundaries being violated by either someone else or myself. It was a good realization and a good start to the development of boundaries both with others and myself.