When the kids were still at home, we had a couple of systems that worked well as we had two busy practices, both of us were doing postgraduate research and we had a farm to also run. Basic stuff had to get done, but I was unwilling to be the sacrificial lady lamb in the equation. Jeff, also, would not allow this to happen to me, either, so we developed some basic systems.
Every week we had a white board on the fridge and the four of us would divvy up the chores to be done that week, listed for each day. We also had laundry-folding parties where everyone would meet in the living room, the clean laundry spilt out of the baskets onto the floor and then everyone would help sort by pitching undies, shirts, pants etc. at each other until it all got distributed. Great hand-eye coordination and memory work with this one! Each person had their own basket to fold (or gather) their clean clothes into and then put them away in their drawers or closet.
If the kids needed help, they would ask as we buddied up when one child was smaller and more challenged with the task at hand, but they were generally part of the sorting party by the time they were 4 and running the washer and dryer by 12. Sometimes their clean clothes lived in that basket until they got to the bottom, but it had to be kept in their closet. It was their choice as long as it was “put away.”
The other thing that helped a lot is that we had a shared grocery/general shopping list app on our phones divided into categories like “market,” “grocery store” or “hardware store.” If stuff needed to get on the list, like ‘cheese’, the child had to use our phones to load it on there or it wouldn’t get bought. Over time, they both got better at spelling these items … but often either Jeff or I would be standing in the grocery aisle laughing ourselves silly as Jordan got good at writing items like, “monkey balls” or “penis pickles.”
When they were in their teens, they had the same shared list on their own phones and then when they drove, they also did the groceries. Yay! We helped to grow them into these shared roles from the time that they were little. They were also taught how to manage bills, make payments, and budget accordingly. Now, we’re showing them how to invest in ways that yield solid returns.
The idea was/is to make it fun, there was always some joking around, and the burden was never all on my shoulders to be the Queen-pin of our domestic operations. We also divvied up the cooking and everyone took a night or two preparing supper for the family. We ate a lot of the same things and our crock pot got a lot of use. Sundays, we’d get some music on, Adie would often bake (her Scottish shortbreads are to die for), I’d prepare one meal, Jeff another and Jordan would be designated sous chef or dishwasher. The key was that we worked together at all of it … including mucking out the stalls in the barn. It built a sense of teamwork and belonging. A dull knife and a carrot can keep a toddler busy for quite awhile!
In our practice, we see a lot of women chronically in a Sepia state (the careworn mother) or Cancer state of mind (rescuing others to the exclusion of self). It is important to activate the health and well-being of our essential selves so as not to default to this program often wrought by our fore-mothers. Trying to work full-time and/or homeschool and then also deal with all of the responsibilities of hearth and home (or farm) can start out as protracted stress and then become, over time, Sepia or Cancer states qualifying you for more aggressive treatments. Is it time to wake from your resignation?
Here’s the original article, by Lisa Wade, that this blog was inspired by ….
Many folks come to us to address a chronic issue; chronic fatigue, chronic headaches, chronic back pain; chronic sciatica, chronic depression, chronic anger, and the list goes on. This is where the journey begins, but it is not where it ends. Once the chronic symptoms are addressed, the patient generally becomes so curious that she wants to know how deep the rabbit hole goes into her psyche.
She wants to not only find out the aetiology for the chronic pain, but she knows intuitively that something lurks beyond the cause, something so rarified that she may have never known it’s purity this lifetime. Once the shocks, blocks and traumas are out of her way, she teases back the curtain to find where the joy resides. She observes this new way of being even though it frightens her.
She realizes her chronic symptoms kept her from knowing this state of being. What now? Over several weeks, she fans her newfound “growledge,” developing inch by inch her courage to know herself in a way that she’s never apprehended before. She cautiously reaches for the joy that resides just beyond her grasp. She pulls back, afraid. What if it’s transitory like all the other times she tried to know her wishes?!
She reaches, again, and it tickles her back. She wonders if anyone is watching, if they can see the Kaos in her. Her pure awe grows in the face of this newly realized essential self. She remembers feeling like this as the tiniest child. She realizes now, that the joy isn’t fleeting, but that the hardest task ahead will be to realize that she deserves it.
Rudolf Steiner, Spiritual Scientist, and founder of Waldorf Education and Anthroposophic Medicine cites that children can’t in fact subsume, in a healthy fashion, reading, writing or mathematical concepts until well after the milk teeth have fallen out. The idea being that if you wake a child too early to intellectual machinations, you damage the fine tuning of their etheric (creativity and absorption) and astral (artistry and inspiration) integration.
In this over-intellectualized and mechanistic epoch in which we live, one of the greatest crimes I see in healthcare is over-intellectualized adults who struggle with accessing all of their organs for knowledge. They’re just not properly integrated! This produces anxiety and neurosis on a large scale as their capacity for trusting their inner guidance system (gnosis) has been tarnished due largely to the tyranny of forced education.
Parents who live in fear that their child won’t be able to compete in this global culture unless they’re bullied into unfolding their egghead processes early on, actually destroy their child’s innate capacities to become lifelong learners, something which ought to be borne as a self-inspired, inside-out gesture. Real knowledge has never been a successful outside-in game and never will be. You’ve heard the maxim, “When the student is ready, the teacher appears.”
A natural curiosity is the stuff of health. It propels us from the Godhead of our ordination as human beings (not human doings) otherwise as children we’d never ask questions like, “Why is the sky blue?” If this innate desire is squashed, and replaced by government curricula and unproven homework that turns parents into hateful enforcers instead of advocates and protectors, we destroy a child’s delicate intuition.
When will we come to wholly trust, and have faith, that each of us will ask the questions – from an internal fount whose source is beyond our comprehension – that will propel the answers towards us? When will we come to the understanding that as we progress through our spiritual unfolding, our nuanced capacity to know will flow and ebb with each consciousness soul phase we blunder through so that we’re married to the functional purpose that evolution pours through each one of us?
When will we know that the gesture to bully and shove round pegs into intellectually limiting square holes is on its way out and that feminine wisdom is mounting a luminous trail so self-sustaining and rejuvenating that the silos of patriarchy are being revealed, and breaking down at an amazing rate? When will we know that the desire to “know thyself” is so flipping compelling to each one of us that its intrinsic nature is something to be preserved, not browbeaten or terrorized with ridiculous tests.
When will we preserve the essence of our innately curious being-ness as wonder-filled seekers?
While attending University, way back when, I used to board with a great big Irish Catholic family. Actually, there were once seven children at home but when I arrived on the scene to rent a room, only the mother and one daughter were left at home. The young woman and I both attended the University of Toronto at the same College.
When I came downstairs one day the mother, H. (I’ll call her), wearing a surgeon’s mask, was stripping the paint from around the oak window casings with a small blow torch and a paint scraper. She was singing softly to herself. I tried to creep by without disturbing her as she seemed so intent on her task. She called out, “Is that you Allyson?” I replied, “Yes, I’ve come down to make some breakfast.”
I recall commenting on the incredible amount of work she was doing and that it might take a year, or more, for her to strip all the windows in the house, including the stained glass ones, and wasn’t she afraid of burning the wood or torching the glass? She responded that it was therapy for her after the decades of work at Queen’s Park as an assistant to a prominent political member. She was now retired and it seemed stripping windows of their white paint was how she’d decided to best fill her days. At the time, I didn’t understand why a retired person wasn’t out scuba diving or lunching with a whole gaggle of friends.
She continued, saying that she wove her prayers into the vapour from the torch, that they would be carried heavenward with each bubble of paint that she scraped from the sill. During the hotter summer months, she’d often strip the paint for 8-9 hour stretches in her panties and a loose t-shirt. I wondered at this sixty-five year old feminist as if she was a most curious object. Sometimes, I knew that she could feel my eyes on her and I could feel her smile; she’d just continue humming as she worked without saying a word. One time she did ask me if I had issues with feminism, and for three decades after I was mystified by her question.
Late one afternoon, I came home via streetcar along Gerrard St. East, to find on my bed a book entitled, “A Canticle for Leibowitz” by Walter M. Miller, Jr. about a simple shopping list left behind by a monk and how its seemingly benign items like, “Pound pastrami, can kraut, six bagels–bring home for Emma” speaks to the rise and fall of humanity in the face of atrocities like a nuclear holocaust. At the time, I didn’t have a clue why H. would want me to read such a book, however, since she seemed to take an interest in me (I had been orphaned the year prior) I forced myself through its pages. We never spoke about why she gave it to me.
To this day, I still don’t wholly understand the ramifications of what was written on the pages of that book, so I took it on as a gesture of intention, a meditation of sorts. Just as this woman scraped paint day after day, perhaps not wholly understanding why or what her function or purpose was at the time, she was investing her thoughts into the practice. I tried to bring the same gesture to that book, and many other books and practices since.
H. taught me that to be a woman in the 21st century, it is sometimes enough not to will something into existence with a great fury, hell bent on accomplishment. That sometimes, seemingly meaningless, repetitive tasks can allow for the space to contemplate, ruminate and even pray. That sometimes, whispering your hopes and dreams into the whiff of vapour, or exploring the incongruous meaning behind why a person is canonized by patriarchal religion is similarly mysterious.
It is the task of remaining open and receptive, in a state of gratitude for the simple things in life, where laying down the rod of doing in exchange for a state of being is an act of utter courage. It is the meaning of the “mass” portion of Christ-mass. When I look up Mass, I get a whole conglomeration of meanings in Wikipedia that look something like this:
“The English noun mass is derived from Middle Latinmissa. The Latin word was adopted in Old English as mæsse (via a Vulgar Latin form *messa), and was sometimes glossed as sendnes (i.e. “a sending, dismission”). The Latin term missa itself was in use by the 6th century. It is most likely derived from the concluding formula Ite, missa est (“Go; the dismissal is made”); missa here is a Late Latin substantive corresponding to classical missio.
Historically, however, there have been other explanations of the noun missa, i.e. as not derived from the formula ite, missa est. Fortescue (1910) cites older, “fanciful” etymological explanations, notably a latinization of Hebrew matzâh (??????) “unleavened bread; oblation”, a derivation favoured in the 16th century by Reuchlin and Luther, or Greek ?????? “initiation”, or even Germanic mese “assembly”.Already Du Cange (1678) reports “various opinions on the origin” of the noun missa “mass”, including the derivation from Hebrew matzah (Missah, id est, oblatio), here attributed to Caesar Baronius. The Hebrew derivation is learned speculation from 16th-century philology; medieval authorities did derive the noun missa from the verb mittere, but not in connection with the formula ite, missa est. Thus, De divinis officiis (9th century) explains the word as a mittendo, quod nos mittat ad Deo (“from ‘sending’, that which sends us towards God”), while Rupert of Deutz (early 12th century) derives it from a “dismissal” of the “enmities which had been between God and men” (inimicitiarum quæ erant inter Deum et homines).”
It is really a tough piece for me to sort through. I don’t fully understand its holy historical references; however, if I am patient enough, some vaporous light may illuminate it if I’m meant to know more. The other day, in a foreign country, where the language is foreign to me, I slipped into a two hundred year old church during mass. I sat in a back pew, closed my eyes in the cool stoney air and felt the wisps of incense wash over my fatigued bones. My camera draped at my side, I closed my eyes and fell into a meditative state as the filthy, homeless person with a ratty beard prayed next to me in Spanish on bended knee.
In the past, when directed by my mentor, Steven Decker, to study Rudolf Steiner until I drifted off to sleep more mystified and confused than ever, I’d become comforted without knowing precisely why I was studying such heady texts. It was like being tussled and tossed about in the washing machine of mystery. While I don’t always know in the moment, I trust that a canticle of meaning will eventually find me during the seemingly most mundane of tasks, a whispered prayer, poem or song received in the corridors of my heart.
I no longer have issues with powerful women. They don’t scare me. H. was right. It took me years to understand that just because I wasn’t counted as a wizened woman in my early twenties due to my weakened, diseased state doesn’t mean that I didn’t have the potential to eventually become one. After thirty years, through the portal of my own health, I learned to breathe many prayers into countless sill windows. Although ongoing, I now feel the answers to my own feminine mystery; a sweet place where I might serve in my ontological confines in this present space and time.
A canticle of seemingly endless lists filled with pastrami and sauerkraut in the face of political holocaust can join together to produce strong, capable and assured women, who whisper prayers for the salvation of self and other into the vapours of time. This unifying presence through family and intention is the Divine feminine ignited.
This year I am thankful for rest, health, verve, ease, strength, quiet, creativity and an inner grace that is ripening. I am grateful for inspiring women, and men, in my life who hold the candle of the mysteries of life in good stead until they’re ready to be wholly illuminated. I am able to fall into meditation, offering prayer-filled alms to the Spanish beggar for he shines the light on what is still my greatest challenge: the quickness with which I judge the sills of time to be too many to make a shred of difference.
“Just as in the body, eye and ear develop as organs of perception, as senses for bodily processes, so does a man develop in himself soul and spiritual organs of perception through which the soul and spiritual worlds are opened to him. For those who do not have such higher senses, these worlds are dark and silent, just as the bodily world is dark and silent for a being without eyes and ears.”
Our patients are well researched individuals who have mostly been referred to us by existing patients. They are well versed in that in many cases they already know what areas we specialize in because they’ve talked at length with an existing patient. We love how our patients are so excited to see their friend or family member achieve similar results of health as they have by sending them our way.
After speaking with one of our existing patients, the new prospect will also generally read some of the blogs we’ve written our our website (www.arcanum.ca) and know that we’re more than just a one stop shop for physical symptoms, working also in the mental and emotional realms of health as well. At the onset of treatment, patients will capture their main health goals. This helps both of us to measure how effective Heilkunst treatment is for each individual that we serve. We feel that to be a good Physician of Heilkunst Medicine it is important to take a “before,” “during” and “after” pictures of our patient’s health in our written case notes.
Here are just some of the main health goals of individuals that we’ve served over the last few months (reworded to protect patient privacy):
General wellness; freedom from past; confidence that I’m doing everything I can to restore my health.
General wellness; detox from vaccines; get to underlying cause of dark circles around my eyes.
General wellness; detox from vaccines.
To become happier, healthier and help with ADD.
Overall health to improve.
Reduce anxiety, eliminate fibromyalgia-like symptoms, less fatigue, sinus infections.
Overall happiness and heath.
Healthy and fit.
To thrive, increase metabolism; to feel awesome again.
Fatigue, weight loss, snoring, chronic lower back pain.
Feel better, less emotional, decrease anxiety and depression, increase focus.
To be free from depression, unworthiness, insomnia, constipation, fear or abandonment & rejection, inferiority problem, needing approval, shame and self doubt. To be confident and know who I am. To improve concentration and overwhelm.
Treat myself in conjunction with my son.
Reduce stress & anxiety; find root of sexualized behaviours.
Grief and anxiety management.
All around better health.
Detox vaccines, reduce bad foods, avoid winter earaches.
Detox vaccines, improve sleeping habits, improve how uncomfortable my daughter is.
Detox from years of using chemical filled cosmetics, hygiene products, using candles and other household toxins. Become more familiar with Organic foods, safe cosmetic products, educating myself on essential oils for health. Mange my anxiety better, control my temperament.
Maintain and improve health.
To get my daughter back; trouble concentrating; debilitating OCD and tics.
Depression; anxiety; worry; fatigue; neck & head pain.
Health of mind & body; healing.
Let us know what your main health goals are and we’ll tailor an individual protocol for regimen, medicine and therapeutic education based on principles specific for your typology. This way you can meet your main health goals too.
Contained in your Emotional Support Dropper is a combination of homeopathic remedies we call “NSOL.” These letters stand for Natrum Muriaticum (grief), Staphysagria (anger), Opium (fear) and Lachesis (guilt). Opium is derived from the papaver poppy and, like all homeopathics, it in no way contains any of its crude source by the time we prescribe it. All homeopathic rx from Arcanum Wholistic Clinic are above “Avogadro’s Law” meaning that the rx is so highly diluted that chemical science would categorize it as placebo.
As we know, our medical provings are derived from observing someone who has taken a drug in crude form. For example, we’ve studied those who have taken opiates (known as laudanum several decades ago) for extended periods of time, and patients will share with us the effects of post-surgery painkillers like OxyContin, Percocet and methadone. The most active substance in opium is morphine, named after Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams.
A great image that helps to discern the Opium state of mind is that of the Chinese opium den back at the turn of the last century or two, and even earlier to ancient Sumeria where it was considered “the plant of joy.” There have been many rumors that the character Sherlock Holmes was addicted to crude opium and that British author Thomas De Quincey partook, naming it “the celestial drug.” Also, Homer’s Odyssey involved sussing out ‘nepenthe,’ a medicine derived from alcohol and the papaver poppy.
In homeopathic medicine, Opium is the quintessential remedy for curing pervasive fear. Dr. Henry Clarke describes the state of mind in his three-volume set of Materia Medica as at first being very excitable and then succumbing to a dream-like stupor:
Carelessness, or great anxiety and uneasiness.–Inconstancy and fickleness.–Strong tendency to take alarm, and timorous character.–Rash and inconsiderate boldness.–Tranquillity of mind, with agreeable reveries, and forgetfulness of sufferings.–Stupidity and imbecility.–Loss of consciousness.–Great flow of ideas, with gaiety and a disposition to indulge in sublime and profound reflections.–Vivid imagination, exaltation of the mind, increased courage, with stupefaction and dullness.–Very easy comprehension.–Illusions of the imagination.–Mania, with fantastical or fixed ideas; patient believes, contrary to fact, that he is not at home.–Delirium with frightful visions, of mice, scorpions, &c., and with desire to run away.–Mendacity.–Rambling speech.–Loquacious delirium, with open eyes and red face; furious delirium.–Fright with fear; is followed by heat in the head and convulsions.–Grief over insults is followed by convulsions.–Drunkenness with stupor as from smoke on the brain; eyes burning, hot and dry.
About six years ago, we treated a fellow who worked for the local hydro company. He was coming home late one night in his truck, it was foggy, rainy and turning to sleet. In the fresh snow that had accumulated during the day, he noticed the relatively fresh tire tracks of a car that had gone off the road and slid into a ditch down a fairly steep embankment. When he reached the vehicle he found a woman still belted in the front seat; pulling her from the wreckage, he checked for a pulse, called 911 and started CPR. My patient soon realised there was no hope, but continued trying to resuscitate her until the paramedics arrived. When he came to see me, he was in an Opium state and his wife confirmed that he kept having bad dreams and worries of finding others in a similar state at the side of the road. He was still in a state of shock, cycling through fight/flight. He cited that he felt numb to it all.
I’ve served women who have been in an Opium-like state for many years after suffering some form of emotional, physical or sexual abuse. They have trouble with memory, feel somewhat lost and just can’t seem to fully actualize themselves due to this overwhelming pervasive fear and delirium. If you look at the eyes of many women coming from terror-filled countries where rape by oppressors was (and still is) an instrument of terrorized suppression, you will look into their deadened and staring eyes. There is no worse crime for a woman, with death often being preferable.
“Women and children at the health post of the Sam Ouandja refugee camp” by hdptcar
Dr. Clarke describes the eyes of a person in an opium state suffering chronic fear as:
Eyelids hanging, as if paralysed.–Sensation as if eyeballs were too large.–Eyes red, inflamed.–Quivering of eyes and lids.–Eyes half open and are turned upwards.–Staring look.–Swelling of lower lids.–Eyes fixed, half closed, convulsed, prominent, glassy.–Pupils dilated (insensible to light), and immovable.–Pupils contracted.–Cloudiness of sight.–Sensation of dust in eyes.–Scintillations before eyes.
Years ago, one of my patients had served in Afghanistan in the U.S. army (details changed to protect his identity) and was extremely traumatized by the constant threat of landmines which could explode at any moment. He had also witnessed a close friend succumbing to such a catastrophic fate. When he came to work with me, he was smoking a lot of cannabis, and teaching yoga and meditation as this was the only viable thing he’d found to curtail reliving the shocks and terrors of his experience, courtesy of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). He was in such a reverie that he described it as feeling in a stupor 24/7.
“Self portrait trauma scars, Emotional abuse, Mental, sexual, Physical, verbal Domestic Violence Spousal marital rape Trauma PTSD, Self Portrait, Runjanefox, #janefox this is me. #domesticviolence #stopdv #spousalrape #dv #hearmystory” by Jane Fox
When we clear this type of trauma on a patient’s timeline, they will describe many strange dreams as being part of the healing reaction. I’ve had patients say that that mid-month after taking the remedy, at the twelve to fifteen day mark, they’ve had vivid dreams of being abducted by aliens, seeing malevolent spirits, being involved in an horrific accident, feeling a presence in their midst…just to have it all disappear by the twenty-eighth day and be replaced with restored clarity of mind.
Humans are not the only beings to suffer such atrocities producing a chronic fear state. Years ago, we rescued a twenty seven year old horse named “Teddy.” He was such an aged Appaloosa that he’d turned completely white, having lost all his characteristic spots. He’d worked all his life in both Western and English barns for children, and was both bit (mouth led) and neck reined (neck led on opposite rein). He wasn’t the horse that we wanted; we were actually buying a young two-year old mare named Baby to train up for my daughter, Adie. The problem was that Teddy and Baby were inseparable and the owner pulled at our heart strings asking that we take both of them. We agreed.
However, shortly after Teddy joined our farm of thirty-six animals, I noticed that he had a persistent film over his eyes, like cobwebs, that I was constantly cleaning out. He also had that characteristic staring-off look with dark congealed tears weeping from the left eye more so than the right. His lids seemed kind of wrinkled over his blue-brown eyes.
I gave old Teddy a drop of Opium 30CH and watched him completely perk up. It was amazing! In fact, Baby proved way too fiery for my daughter so when her horse turned three we hired a trainer for Baby, and Adie learned to ride on Teddy, using the Alexander Technique and no bridle, instead employing just the subtlest of body movements. Teddy learned this whole new approach to riding without a hitch in his elderly step!
My hope is that you have a better idea of what induces an Opium state in yourself or a loved one. I’m going to list a number of events below that we’ve treated in our patients that may be of further assistance as you discern the type of events that can engender a chronic Opium state:
Car accident, ski accident or any near miss with or without bodily injury
Bad news like a death in the family or loss of a dear friend
Shocking event like seeing someone badly injured
Participating in a war
Seeing someone raped
Living in an area with a high rate of crime
Watching the news
Being harmed or abused
Seeing an animal harmed or abused
Watching a horror film
Folks more likely to be in a chronic Opium state, that we’ve successfully treated:
Paramedics, firefighters and first responders
Red Cross volunteer
Emergency Room nurse or doctor
Parents who have suffered a stillbirth, especially the mother
A child prone to nightmares/night terrors
A parent whose child is diagnosed with autism, cancer, MS or other debilitating condition
Being diagnosed with a challenging condition
A victim of war crimes, shootings or bombings
A person who has survived living in a ghetto with a high rate of crime