Be Aware or Beware?

Feel your boobies! really got my attention - it was the catch phrase for a Breast Cancer Awareness poster I saw last week.  The direct and playful command is one of a multitude of messages about the deadly disease that we see in October (Breast Cancer Awareness Month).  We've all been touched by it in some way - my grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1975 and fought it for 20 years until she succumbed at the young age of 68.  She battled unfalteringly, working, traveling, leading a "normal" life through a mastectomy, new found tumors, and skin grafts.  She was and is an example of never letting a disease rule your life.  I am thankful to have had such a person close to me, but I would trade that in a hot second for a grandma who didn't spend her final weeks wasting away in a bed at the hospital where she'd worked for many years. 
No one should have to experience what cancer patients or their families go through.  Do we have an alternative? We are aware that cancer is pervasive in our population, but how aware can we really be of its cause, presence, and progress? 

Not only do I not want cancer (breast or any other) to invade the life of anyone else close to me (four family members are enough, thanks), but I also don't want to know that there is even the slightest inkling of the dreaded C lurking in the dark space between our cells.  This is one of the enormous advantages of Total Body Analysis:  We can eliminate the cause of a cancer, even before the cancer itself begins to grow.  TBA remedies work to eliminate the most volatile toxins in your system as your body signals that it's time.  By continually making Primary and General remedies for my family members as their bodies are ready, I know that I am not only detoxifying the most serious issues at that time, but I am also preventing future ailments that stem from these toxins.   My TBA clients are assured of the same safe, effective self-healing.  Those who regularly take their remedies experience profound health benefits, and over time, continue to peel back the body's toxic layers to reveal a state of wellness they did not know was possible - sound sleep, relief from food allergies, escape from repeated bacterial infection, improved digestion, the advantages are as numerous as we are unique.
So, beware of simply being "aware" of disease, and beat it before it starts with TBA.

What's Your Compass?

Wellness is a complex concept.  We know when we have or don't have it, but its definition is more difficult to identify.  Total Body Analysis (TBA) is an integral part of the journey to wellness:  We pinpoint areas of weakness and support or detoxify them with a remedy.  TBA allows toxic layers to be revealed and antidoted, and all we have to do is "take one half-dropperful of the remedy three times a day."  But can a vial of energetic liquid be the answer?  Is it enough to supply ourselves with a spectrum of frequencies and let them do the work?  It can be, depending on how we address the question of why.  Why do we want to be well?  If we don't examine our motives for change and healing, we can't identify a goal.  How will we know we've achieved wellness if we can't visualize its appearance or how we will have changed as a whole human being?
My picture of wellness is continuously transforming, and I am always striving to get to the next level of healing by discovering the why and then following the how.  TBA is the tool that allows me to traverse the path to wellness, but my mind and my heart are the guides.

Only If You're Bleeding

Call me an insensitive mother of small children, but I hate band-aids.  Their physical annoyance of getting wet, coming unstuck, and leaving dirty black glue marks, bleeds, if you will, into their utilitarian menace as a placater for all things boo-boo to children.  I feel like when I need a band-aid, it really can't hold up to the daily grind, and ninety-nine percent of the time that a kid gets to apply one, it's just to make her stop whining.
Metaphorical band-aids can quite literally squeeze my soul until a gaping, ironic wound erupts, oozing my sanity and clouding my judgement with worry over the next spirit-crushing quick fix that might adhere itself to my life.
On a daily basis for me, the most harmful band-aids come in the form of non-solutions to social justice issues in public education.  I teach English as a Second Language full time in an elementary school and I see the ill-effects of data folders, pre- and post-tests, state assessments, and New! Research-Based! language arts programs on our children.  School districts spend millions of dollars on these band-aids while neglecting the goal of a solid education:  A happy, whole child.
What does this have to do with alternative healing, you might ask.  The educational band-aid metaphor is akin to the conditioning we've undergone as a society to buy this, pop this, drive this, or wear this to make us feel - whole?  Not really.  Temporarily satiated?  Maybe.  The cyclical emptiness and emotional longing that ensue from conditioned consumerism leave us with a deep need to heal.  On our healing paths we sometimes try band-aids in an earnest effort for wholeness.  Years ago, my general practitioner, who was conditioned to prescribe antidepressants, wrote me a script for Zoloft to help my symptoms of depression.  I was conditioned to believe that a pill would heal me.  If that were the case I would not be writing this post. But that band-aid, like many, was a learning experience.  We cannot change our past actions, but we can learn to change our attitudes and shift our focus away from consuming to feel better and toward autonomous healing.  We are only human, and sometimes band-aids are necessary to get us through the day or to deal with an unexpected problem.  Those patches (like the beer I had last night - hey, it helped calm my brain to start this post), as long as we recognize their role, are a way to keep us from straying from our healing paths
(sometimes, they plain keep us from going crazy).
Perhaps one day as well, school districts will recognize the difference between a quick fix and plotting a lifelong course, and they'll shift away from programming our children and toward allowing the learners to lead in their educational dance.
For now, readers, may we know when we are truly bleeding, and when to just give our four year old a box of cartoon bandages because he's wailing in a restaurant from bumping his head on our elbow (then maybe we can finish our wine).