Body Meds: No Idea I

This probably won't be the last time I do a body med and have no idea what the heck it is, hence my adding a number to the title. That used to always be the case, that I didn't know.

For years I could not hear my guides. I could see their lips moving, isn't that hilarious, but I could not hear them. Now they won't shut up. (Just kidding. Sort of.) Today when I asked Tek what this was he tried to tell me. I could feel that I was blocking him.

It SO bugs me because I don't know why. I mean seriously, who cares? I had already DONE the meditation, it was over, so why not know what it was? Why would my psychology block that? God only knows. Anyway so today it was a mystery.

I was sitting in my rocking chair again, waiting for the slab bacon to finish baking, since I had already finished the marinade for dinner's Pork Loin Rotisserie. (Apparently today is eat-a-pig day. I'm sorry, pig.) I had no idea how much longer the bacon was going to require cooking because I was cooking twice as much as usual at a lower temp than usual.

Me: Self, how much longer till the bacon will be done?

Self: About 8 minutes.

(Me to myself: why did I never before think of just asking myself such things??)

Me: Tek, I have 8 minutes. Do you have a med that can fit in there?

Tek: Yep. (He instantly starts putting stuff in front of me.)

I'm sitting at a table with him standing near me, and in front of me on the table to the left is a small soft object. I can't decide if it's irregularly shaped or the vaguest bit rounded-triangular in 3D. It looks like it is covered with greasy grime of some kind. But at least nothing is growing on it. So the disgust level is not too bad but it's not super pleasant, either.

To the right on the table is what looks like a silver hair pick, the kind with about 8 tines in a row. In school the kids with afros used to just stick them in their hair and leave them there (which I found hilarious. I wondered what would happen if I went to school with a hairbrush stuck in my hair one day. I didn't think anybody would get it. Or they'd kick my ass if they did).

Me: Tek, surely you cannot mean for me to spear this little thing with that tool but I can't think of any other way to use it on it.

Tek: The tool is for later.

So I started to pick up the little mucky thing and then stopped.

Me: I'm going to add gloves and so on here...

Tek: No. You need to touch this.

Me: You're kidding! Aren't you the guy who once forced me to wear a hazmat suit during one of these?!

Tek: That was something different. You need more of a connection to this.

Me: Oh brother. Ok fine. I'll have one hand that has no gloves. Maybe just the fingers. Maybe -- oh hell {on sensing "that look" from him}, FINE THEN.

So I pick it up in my hands and visualized that I'm holding it gently over a sink running the cleansing water of life and I work on rinsing it off. It takes a bit and I have to gently rub it all over to get the stuff off. Finally it's clean.

Me: What do I do with it?

He takes it from my hands and then he and I are someplace else. He hands me the silver tool and points upward. I look straight up, craning my neck back in a way, and I see there is this long ... damn. Shapes are hard to describe. Imagine something about four inches wide that is just like some kind of layer of something and it's slightly irregular but long in shape, like 4 inches by a few feet.

(You understand my perspective is all over in these. It could be microscopic, really.)

Tek: You need to break up the surface covering that area first.

So I took the tool and did tiny little pokes, very completely across it, and I brushed all the junk off that I'd broken up. Then I imagined some forced air cleaning it off really well.

Tek: There are actually tiny little tubes of a sort, in just the shape of your tool, that go into this. You can't see them well because they are clogged. You need to gently push the tool all the way into those holes to help clear them out inside.

I felt around. I could feel them more than see them. I set a tool-guide visual that when my tool was precisely in the right place it would ding and light up, and then I would gently push it all the way in and pull it out again. These things were maybe half an inch apart and it took awhile to go through the whole length of that region. Then I did another forced-air and then a water of life pressure wash to make sure everything was clear. I went through all the junk and made sure it was fine-particle size, imagined lightning frying it all into "inert" chemically, then dumped it in a waste bin.

The thing above me now was more dark fleshy pink colored than it had been and seemed like it would be sort of ... exuding something from the other side of it to this side, like a long flat-tube-ish area just dripping something into the area where I was standing from tiny little pretty regularly-spaced holes.

Me: So what's the little thing I washed got to do with that area up there?

Tek: It deals with what comes in from up there.

Me: What is that thing, and this area?

Tek: {I see his lips moving but can't get the concept or word. Damn!}

Body: Eight minutes are up! Your bacon is done.

I leap up and walk to the kitchen and open the oven. It's perfectly cooked. Way to go.

PJ
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