Please read this article in it’s (brief) entirety. A hospital in China that uses Chi Gong, and where those who come for healing from illness and disease are called STUDENTS, not patients!
http://www.chilel.com/WhatIsChilelQigong/hospital.htm
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Caldo de Pescado INGREDIENTS fava beans, red lentils or moong dal, cooked till very soft with chopped vegetables of your choice, garlic, onion, and turmeric powder. (for example: chopped carrots, brocolli, spinach, chayote squash etc.) 1 can coconut milk fresh stalk of lemon grass (if you only have dried and cut, tie in a muslin pouch so you don’t have loose unchewable pieces of the plant disturbing your otherwise pleasant eating experience) fresh grated ginger ( a palmful) salt to taste juice of between 4-6 lemons, to taste (no seeds!) fresh coriander leaves, basil leaves, thyme leaves chopped INSTRUCTIONS Add lemon juice and salt to taste Serve with crackers and dark green leafy salad tossed with lemon juice, olive oil and freshly chopped garlic, and an extra bowl into which you will toss the bones you have carefully picked out of your soup before putting the spoon in your mouth!!! I arrived at the home of Don José to learn the process of and help with the preparation of barbacoa in honor of his granddaughter’s quince años (I’ve had barbacoa de rez (cow meat) and de borrego (lamb). The meat is tender and delicious and I had been told it was cooked overnight in a hole dug in the ground, covered with banana leaves. So when Don José invited me to his granddaughter’s quince años (a coming of age extravaganza) and said there would be barbacoa, I asked if I could watch and help. I arrived in the early afternoon and the cow lay in two large pieces on a long table in the outdoor bamboo walled kitchen. Don José was already well into the cutting up of the cow and appeared to have been at it for hours. The cow was one of Don José’s that had freely roamed the mountains of the village. He’d taken it to the nearby town in the morning to have someone kill it, skin it and deliver it. All the parts were there and all were dealt with. Already a small table behind us had a pile of fat on it. As Don José carved the meat, when he came to a part with a lot of fat, he cut it off and tossed it on the small table. Soon that became my first job, and as I watched my friend of 70 years cut the fresh meat as he had so many times since his boyhood, I became attuned to sometimes half kilos or more of fat being cut, and held out my hands to catch them as they fell from the meat. Don José explained to me that he was going to use that pile of fat to make medicine later. The cow had many compartments of meat, each with grain running in its own direction and separated from the others by tissue. Don José worked section by section, telling me the names of each cut of meat and explaining which part of the body he was presently cutting. Three enormous vats sat on low stands of cement blocks behind us and next to the small table with the fat scraps. The metal pots were about five feet in diameter and rose up to my chest. Under them would be built fires to cook the cow, which was going to serve 1500 guests the following day. Already one pot had the cow’s stomach in the bottom, holding all the intestines. Later, Don José and I mixed the intoxicatingly aromatic salsa that his wife Celia had prepared for the barbacoa into the heavy pile of intestines. Don José cut a long narrow stick, sharpening one end with his machete and together we punctured holes near the top edges of the stomach and “sewed” the skewer through the holes, securing the huge pouch and it’s contents. Don José cut as much meat as possible from the first half of cow but there were the ribs (separated from the spine two by two) and other bones that needed to be cut into more manageable pieces. I made a pile of those on one end of the table and together we heaved the second half of cow into the center of the table. Don José’s teenage nephew came by and asked “was it the one with the curly tail?” Don José affirmed that it was and the boy gazed sadly at the animal on the table. The boy was told to go fetch a tall strong log that we could use as a chopping block for the bone pieces and we washed and leveled it in front of the long table. Don José got his axe and with precise aim, began chopping between vertebrae and also cutting meter long ribs into smaller pieces. Don José was tired I could tell. He’d been working all day, hadn’t eaten, and still had half a cow to go. I offered him some water. He accepted gratefully and added that he really wanted a beer, but I told him better to finish his work first. (I’ve seen how alcohol can change a person’ energy level and attitude!) At dusk I left for another commitment and returned, as agreed, at 5:00 the next morning. The street was quiet and the sky black when I arrived at Don José’s. The stick and wire gate was secured over the driveway and so I could not enter. I tried to undo the gate where the wire wrapped around something but could not. Then the dogs (Don José has about 5) heard me and started making a racket. The barking disturbed the quiet and I was concerned would wake the family, but at the same time, I wanted them to know I was there so was glad for the noise. Soon Don José came to the gate and let me in. He’d woken up five minutes before my arrival and had started pouring water in the bottom of the pots. Other men with sharper axes and a saw had come the night before and so when I arrived all the meat was in a huge shallow tin bucket, marinading in Celia’s salsa that smelled exquisite and reminiscent of the spices used in Tandoori chicken. Lots of garlic, onion, cumin and guajillo chili. The long table was now void of the animal and bones, yet the white smooth lengths of marrow we had pulled from inside the spine were still flung over the metal bucket hanging on the wall. I asked Don José about them and he acknowledged with disappointment that he’d forgotten about them. I asked what he would do with them, knowing they had to be very nutritious. He said you soak them in lemon juice, slice them and roll them in a tortilla. It’s a real treat. I rolled up my sleeves and we began carefully layering pieces of marinated meat into the three vats. I picked up the nose out of the marinade and placed it into a pot. Later I picked up the surprising small soft brain and carried it carefully to a pot where I lowered it. Don José left for a moment and returned with a bottle of tequila and prayed to the four directions with the tequila as it poured into the pot. A blessing and benediction for the act we were engaging in. By now the sky was lightening to gray and Celia came out reminding us we needed to add avocado leaf and episote to the barbacoa. She went and cut several narrow branches with the large green leaves and we placed them on top of the meat which practically filled each pot. Then we put the epasote and finally Don José decided to add a little salt for additional taste. I asked whether one always added avocado leaf and epasote and he told me it was so that noone would get sick from eating the barbacoa. Avocado leaf and episote, among many other plants are know to prevent parasitic worms and are eaten as everyday accompaniments to meals. I love the simple wisdom and practicality of this health preserving habit. As the final step of barbacoa preparation, we covered the contents of the three pots with several large slabs of pig skin, then lay enormous black plastic bags over each pot, securing them. When the barbacoa was boiling well, Don José told me, the plastic lid would inflate and we would then puncture them. Celia walked by and asked if we didn’t want to put some “seven venonos” into each pot. Seven venenos is a mixture one can buy or make that is a tincture of seven different poisonous creatures. Don José made his own, which he uses for healing, and I have spent long periods, sometimes with children, peering through the sides of the glass quart size jar trying to identify them all. There is a centipede , scorpion, spider, bee, wasp, and I’m not sure what else. I asked Don José why one would put the seven venenos into the barbacoa and he told me it’s to protect it in case somebody walks by who is angry. At this point I began to understand the importance of our vigil with the cooking meat. We were spiritually responsible for the outcome of this meat delicacy. Don José went to the wood pile at the end of the narrow makeshift kitchen and began picking out long limbs to begin our three fires. The fires were lit and my friend informed me that though the barbacoa would be finished cooking around 11:30, we could not leave the kitchen until 10:00 or 10 :30 in the morning. We positioned two plastic chairs facing the fires and sat, keeping our eyes on each fire, feeding more wood and growing the fire when needed by blowing through meter long pieces of dried bamboo. In truth we spent more time squatting in front of our fires, guarding and caring for them than we did in the chairs, though I did sit as I enjoyed my first cup of locally harvested coffee. I had been told that coffee that grows around the village doesn’t have a lot of caffeine, and that in fact it is drunk at night, oftentimes to relax, and doesn’t keep one awake. I normally don’t drink coffee as I am extremely sensitive to the caffeine and felt no side effects from the brew, to my delight! The hours passed meditatively and purposefully. When the pots were all a boil, Don José and I sat just outside the door and I watched him feed a bunch of newborn chickens raw grains of white rice. He delighted in watching them follow their mother and the toss of the grains and I felt him completely present to that moment. He correctly predicted that after eating, the chicks would head towards the outdoor washing sinks hoping to find little puddles of water to drink below them. This was a moment I treasured and my heart filled knowing that this was one of the simple pleasures of this elder’s life and one that I was honored and grateful to witness and share. In case you missed it last year, here it is updated for 2010! Gorgeous colors and compositions to brighten your day all year long. Remember the story about the bra tree? Well, I have an update! The Papaya Tree changed it’s sex just as Don Romulo said it could. The papaya tree with my bra on it now has the types of flowers growing on it that are growing on the sister (feminine) tree beside it!  Sex Change Papaya Tree The next time I saw my landlord I showed him the tree. He laughed with excitement and we shook hands in hearty celebration. There is something to old traditions! I remember in Biology class in college learning about blue green algaes, that they were the first food on earth and that they contain the most energy directly from the sun. I remember learning about sun energy and how when we eat, we are really eating sun energy. The further away from the direct source, such as animals…who get their sun energy from the plants, who got theirs from the sun, the less energy for us when we eat them. Now I’m in Mexico. The cosmology is based on the sun, one could say. One salutes the sun and the day each morning, acknowledging all elements and aspects, but none of it would exist without our Sun. I’ve just listened to a lecture (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlCJPxxKoaY ) which talks about gazing at the sun (safely) every day to nourish and heal one’s eyes, brain, mind, body, and if one choses, spirit. The lecturer states that by beginning with gazing at the rising or setting sun 10 seconds the first day and adding 10 seconds every day there is sun after that, that after three months (15 minutes a day) not only will one’s eyes will be healed (the first noticed benefit), but one’s brain will be taking in the sun’s energy and one’s mind will be balanced. After six months, physical and mental maladies will be healed, energy will be stored and appetite will be lessening. The lecturer goes on to say that as our bodies only need energy to survive, that once we have stored enough energy and continue to take in 15 minutes of sun gazing a day, our bodies will begin to not need food (secondary sun energy), as it is being nourished by the energy of the sun directly. He says that between safe sun gazing, safe sun bathing (when the sun warms not heats us) and charging our drinking water (put covered glass jar of water in sun during one day), we can live well and healthy for the rest of our days. Some months ago when I had susto (fright/trauma) from some scary experiences with street dogs, I went to a woman in the village for healing. I was to arrive as the first rays of the sun peeked over the mountain. I recently learned a traditional healing technique for when someone’s spirit (sombra, shadow) leaves them due to some fright/trauma, also to be conducted with the first sun rays on the patient’s body. The significance of the sun, in it’s simplest and profoundest terms is touching me now. This natural and profound connection with nature is what I need, desire and believe is how to live. Little by little, through the living wisdom that surrounds and supports me, these simple and profound ways are seeping in to my occidental mindset, like a slowly earned sun tan. I was told that a common wild plant that grows here, called “Palo de Agua” can be used to whiten whites. I conducted an experiment and besides being fun, it was effective! Here is how I did it: 1. Put water and laundry soap in a bucket 2. Add white clothing/cloth (It really was more yellow than you can see here) 3. Pick some Palo de Agua leaves and mash them  Macerated Leaves of Palo de Agua
4. Add macerated leaves and juice to the bucket and mix 5. Leave over night 6. Rinse 7. Lay in full sun to dry. 8. Voila! It really was whiter!  Plant and Sun Bleached Garment I have learned that dogs with dried mucus around their eyes can see dead people. The girl who told me this said that her uncle confirmed it by doing an experiment. On Day of the Dead, this man wiped the legrañas from a dog around his own eyes. He saw all sorts of dead people’s spirit’s walking around. Today I asked a woman in my traditional plant medicine class if she had heard of this. She replied that yes, it is true. • When a dog digs a hole in the ground Learning about different types of Beings when I was studying the Hopi way of living at first seemed like a “concept”; metaphors useful in understanding and developing spiritually. Then one day I considered, “What if these Beings actually DO exist?” It was hard for me as a person from the U.S. to sink too far into that though. Here in Mexico I still find it difficult, but the evidence and number of people around me for whom these beliefs are natural, real and important ways of being and acting, are beginning to dissolve the rough exterior coating that prevents me from taking the spirit side of life to heart. Now, I have no trouble believing dogs can see dead people’s spirits. The world is FULL of occurrences and ways of operating that I don’t know yet, but which exist nevertheless. The difference is, now I am beginning to see Life with eyes that live amongst and sometimes in conscious relationship with these Beings. I have learned that as all is part of the All, It’s All True. It’s All Right. And in this way, everything’s alright, too. Someone recently told me “LIfe is a dream that’s already been dreamt”. In this way, we are like puppets of the Gods. I had a day where I played with supposing “Its true that it’s all been decided and I am being moved and directed like a puppet by the Gods.” It was an extremely peaceful, happy day. I grew up in a Judeo Christian society with concepts and images of angels. Now I consider…suppose there really ARE angels? Suppose I really DO have ACTUAL Spirit Guides and Nawales? The world is so much more than I ever considered. Strange beliefs I had heard growing up now reappear as real. The biggest challenge is my analytic mind. It wants to cling tight and remain important. It still has hope (though it appears to be weakening) that it will it will figure Life out. I see it gasping and begging to remain the bloak in charge. The good news is that now I can see him grasping, a cartoon tiger with tears running down it’s face. Before, I thought he was me and I dare say he thought he was me too. “Hello Tiger. No.” People have written to me angry, feeling that the last post I sent out is fear mongering and not based on fact, and that much appears “hidden” and manipulative. I am used to reading these messages sent by Tom Kenyon, but I can imagine (in retrospect) that jumping into the middle without prior experience, peace and comfort with this information and perhaps it’s apparent source…could seem scary, negative, lacking in “proof” and I’m sure many other reactions, some of which I’ve received already. Everyone is different and is anchored differently to the earth. The main message in the Hathor’s post is that we have the power to change things. I see the message as calling us to our higher selves. I see this particular message as calling us to really use our power for good, acknowledging how difficult that can be when our culture is not based on that nor does it support that. It’s trying to shake us awake into awareness. If you read all the way through, the core of the message is HEART, and that is EXACTLY where I am in my experience: locating and listening to my very heart. http://tomkenyon.com/lies-half-truths-and-manipulations Something that trumps sharing my own writing, experiences and growth, is something. This does. A story about dogs seeing ghosts is coming very soon! |
I've always been attracted to simple living. This includes walking or riding a bike instead of driving, bringing my own home-cooked lunch to work, making instead of buying gifts, buying practically all my clothes at the thrift store, and no doubt countless other ways in which I "do things different" and don't realize. Continue reading... |
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