Today, on Easter Sunday, would have represented day 21 of a 40-day fast, but yesterday, the half-way point, at 160 lbs, my body said “no mas.” I have yet to “eat” anything solid. A glass of cold-pressed apple juice, followed up by a fresh blend of unpasteurized orange and pineapple juices, and several cups of vegetable-broth miso soup, was a marvelous feast for my languid pallet.
I could have, and would have continued, but I asked my body, with the aid of a pendulum, what was best for it, and my answer was to begin eating once again.
The anomaly in my groin remains in place. However, before the change in plans, I felt, for the first time, the first “pangs” of disruption in that area. Not “pain,” but something I hadn’t felt before. Physically, I am a shadow of my former self. I look like I could be a “Smami from Zamboni”, with emphasis on “boney”. Actually, my head looks far out of proportion to the rest of my body. Maybe it’s the camera. 🙂
A major cleansing and releasing has been done in a very short period of time, without the discomforting trauma of violent eruptions, diarrhea, or herxheimer reactions.
My main concern was to drink enough water, which was a challenge. However, the body gives you very clear signs.
You know you don’t have enough water in you when you wake up in the middle of the night, and (1) you get up to go to the bathroom, get fuzzy, and faceplant into a wall, or (2) you discover that the tip of your tongue or other surface has gone dry because the water levels have gone to zero in those areas. That happened while sleeping on my back. It was clear that I was was not maintaining “minimum” necessary levels of water inside.
On several occasions, I had vivid dreams where I visited several restaurants (wanting everything in them), and “inadvertently” tasted some appetizers (I didn’t see myself pick them up or put them in my mouth). Yet, I could actually discern “taste”, enough so as to immediately feel a sense of guilt, as I had compromised my regimen. That realization would wake me up, only to discover that I had been on an astral trip, and that the food tank was still as empty as it had been.
Many new dishes sound very yummy to me that I would not have considered in my former culinary frame of mind.
As an example, I have always loved tapioca. But now, a tapioca pudding made with chia seeds, sounds scrumptious.
While searching for these pictures, an ad broadcast on the television about Opdivo, a lung cancer drug that purports to offer the recipient “a chance to live longer”. This is for people who are so deeply under the spell of conventional medicine, who have been raked over the coals, physically, emotionally, and financially, and for whom the ability to continue to breathe is equated to living (it is not). Who can you imagine would ask if this stuff is right for them if they know that a different choice would truly help them for a minuscule cost, by comparison to the drugs? Yet apparently,
This is not going to change unless and until individuals learn more about themselves, and most importantly, the recuperative powers that are inbuilt. “Practitioners” aren’t going to give you a clue that even they don’t have. They think disease is normal and inevitable. These are just some of the insights available in Hilton Hotema’s book, Man’s Higher Consciousness, and other titles by the same author.
(I’m now sipping a combination of pomegranate, cherry, black mulberry, blueberry, and pineapple juices… very slowly.)
Now it’s time to rebuild… and continue the repair and regeneration.