Love and health...

Steve's "Men's Health Journal" came yesterday, and I like to browse through it to get some idea of how men may actually think. There was some news on the benefits of jicama (vitamin C and fiber), and dandelion root (a liver detox and diuretic), but what caught my eye was a picture of a man in a wheelchair, his arms upraised, a smile on his face. He was pushed by an older man in a baseball cap. I read the brief article - it was written by the man in the wheelchair. He has cystic fibrosis, and the man pushing the wheelchair is his dad. They started doing small races together, and although in the beginning they were denied because of their slow times, eventually they were let in to more and more. To date, they've participated in 950 races, including marathons and the triathalons. I sit here crying even as I'm typing about it because it's such a testament to unconditional, unbridled love between two humans. It's not a sacrifice, no, it's a blessing and a joy for both father and son, and everyone who's privileged to run races with them. It makes me think: what do I do to show my love for those I love? How far would I go? What does this mean that even the thought of the article can make me cry? I know it means something, and I'll be thinking about that today.

I'm reading "Oneness", a channeled book by Rasha. Okay, I've been reading it for almost a year now - it's just so DENSE, so much information that you can't just pick it up casually. You have to dig in for a page or two, then think about it. I picked it up and just opened it to a page, and read about the health crises in our bodies that this current transformation is creating. She says that all illnesses and diseases are lower density emotions carried in our bodies, and if we haven't dealt with the root causes of our "issues" they'll be coming around again to manifest in our physical bodies so we can finally address and heal it all, so we can be free to keep traveling up to the higher vibrations. But it takes a great deal of faith not to sink down into that fear space. I know I felt STABBING pains in my head yesterday, followed by loud ringing in my left ear. I know better, I really do, but memories of last summer and the brain tumor fears came floating into my consciousness until I realized I was going there again and could start laughing. But it isn't always easy to laugh, is it? Not when you're feeling these things you've never felt before and you're supposed to be in the peak of health. "You're the healthiest sick person I know," Steve has said to me, and I know it's supposed to make me feel better, but sometimes it makes me sad. How does it help our bodies to keep thinking we're sick? Is it possible to trust that all is well, and these are just the changes taking place as we become purely healthy and clean and clear? Today I intend total trust in my body and in my journey. Just for today. Tomorrow I may choose to intend it again, but let's just try it for one day, all right?