07-24-2017, 12:00 AM
I should have felt relief because I had a "right" answer, but I didn't. I sat there a good fifteen minutes chewing on that one. In the meantime, Sam dozed off, his soft snore punctuating the lazy, hot California afternoon. Unhappy, I got up and stalked off to the hillside of sage. We still needed more for ceremony, and I dearly loved talking with the plants and gathering the wonderful, aromatic herb.
As I asked permission to pick a few stalks from each plant, I was mulling over Sam's needling me into realizing that Thunderbeing medicine was actually about transformation. As I picked, my temper cooled and my feelings of shame and embarrassment dissolved. I tried to look at my life from the perspective of transformation.
By the time I was eighteen years old, we'd moved twenty-two times, not just in one state, either, but all over the West. Going into the Navy when I was eighteen required a different kind of transformation - one of leaving home and going into a very rigid military atmosphere, something few women had ever done. And that had certainly been a transforming experience if there had ever been one! I had learned lessons about myself, about relationships, about men and about so many other things.
The more I picked sage on the hillside, the more deeply I went into looking at my life as one of ongoing transformation. I had left the Navy and taken up professional astrology. (My mother had studied astrology and had allowed me to read her books when I was nine years old, so I got my love of this science way back then.)
As an astrological counselor, I saw that I made a difference in about 50% of my client's lives, but I also saw a more pressing need in the field of health and astrology. I taught myself medical astrology and worked for a decade on a scientific footing to prove what I knew and to discover a way of looking at the chart medically. I discovered the Med-Scan Technique, and it's 95% accurate, even to this day.
Because I'd gone into the health field from a metaphysical perspective, homeopathy, a complementary form of medicine practiced all over the world (although only minimally in the U.S.), became my next transformation. In homeopathy I discovered a form of medicine that truly transforms in the most positive of ways and is the only system of medicine on the face of the Earth that cures. So I then became a homeopathic consultant, transforming people's lives in that way.
By the time I had finished collecting another bag of sage and had gone to rest under the pin oak, Sam had awakened from his nap. He was sitting there with a canteen in his hands, sipping the warm water. I sat down and gave him an apologetic look. "I see what you mean about transformations, about how it applies to me, to my life and to the work I do."
He grunted and sat up, crossing his legs, his dusty cowboy boots scarred with age and wear. Capping the canteen, he offered it to me. "You're like a lightning bolt in some ways," he said. "You're a catalyst in the lives of other people. That's an aspect of Thunderbeing medicine. You don't get knocked out, but the people, your clients, are rattled or shaken by your insights into them. You know that a ceremony, a song, a homeopathic remedy, a correct herb, can all change a person's life for the better."
I took the canteen and swallowed a long gulp of the water. I appreciated Sam's insights. I capped the canteen and set it aside. "So I shock others into an awareness about themselves on some level?"
He smiled. "You got it."
"If I'm so good at this, why can't I catalyze myself?" I grumbled.
With a hearty laugh, Sam slowly unwound and stood up. "That's my job."
As I asked permission to pick a few stalks from each plant, I was mulling over Sam's needling me into realizing that Thunderbeing medicine was actually about transformation. As I picked, my temper cooled and my feelings of shame and embarrassment dissolved. I tried to look at my life from the perspective of transformation.
By the time I was eighteen years old, we'd moved twenty-two times, not just in one state, either, but all over the West. Going into the Navy when I was eighteen required a different kind of transformation - one of leaving home and going into a very rigid military atmosphere, something few women had ever done. And that had certainly been a transforming experience if there had ever been one! I had learned lessons about myself, about relationships, about men and about so many other things.
The more I picked sage on the hillside, the more deeply I went into looking at my life as one of ongoing transformation. I had left the Navy and taken up professional astrology. (My mother had studied astrology and had allowed me to read her books when I was nine years old, so I got my love of this science way back then.)
As an astrological counselor, I saw that I made a difference in about 50% of my client's lives, but I also saw a more pressing need in the field of health and astrology. I taught myself medical astrology and worked for a decade on a scientific footing to prove what I knew and to discover a way of looking at the chart medically. I discovered the Med-Scan Technique, and it's 95% accurate, even to this day.
Because I'd gone into the health field from a metaphysical perspective, homeopathy, a complementary form of medicine practiced all over the world (although only minimally in the U.S.), became my next transformation. In homeopathy I discovered a form of medicine that truly transforms in the most positive of ways and is the only system of medicine on the face of the Earth that cures. So I then became a homeopathic consultant, transforming people's lives in that way.
By the time I had finished collecting another bag of sage and had gone to rest under the pin oak, Sam had awakened from his nap. He was sitting there with a canteen in his hands, sipping the warm water. I sat down and gave him an apologetic look. "I see what you mean about transformations, about how it applies to me, to my life and to the work I do."
He grunted and sat up, crossing his legs, his dusty cowboy boots scarred with age and wear. Capping the canteen, he offered it to me. "You're like a lightning bolt in some ways," he said. "You're a catalyst in the lives of other people. That's an aspect of Thunderbeing medicine. You don't get knocked out, but the people, your clients, are rattled or shaken by your insights into them. You know that a ceremony, a song, a homeopathic remedy, a correct herb, can all change a person's life for the better."
I took the canteen and swallowed a long gulp of the water. I appreciated Sam's insights. I capped the canteen and set it aside. "So I shock others into an awareness about themselves on some level?"
He smiled. "You got it."
"If I'm so good at this, why can't I catalyze myself?" I grumbled.
With a hearty laugh, Sam slowly unwound and stood up. "That's my job."