I feel the impulse to write a blog. But so many things have been happening, I have no clear direction to take with my expression. My fingers sit against the keys. They are ready for instruction but nothing comes.
The process of integration happens in layers for most people. I am no exception. I am in a layer where I am integrating shock. Shock is one of the worst feelings a person can experience. It feels like having your foot all the way on the gas petal and all the way on the brake petal at the exact same time. There is no movement to it on the surface level. A state of deep freeze, but inside the core of that deep freeze of the nervous system is so much movement it is like a fast-forwarding static. It feels like a dissociated buzz. You’re half in and half out of your body. When you’re in shock, there is screaming inside a core of absolute silence. Life cannot and does not move forward when you are in shock. There is no acceptance and so nothing can process through the system.
If you observe people in shock, their body may be moving, but it is as if they are spinning in circles emotionally. They are stuck, unable to swallow what has occurred. And in this world, we do not stop to help people settle into the shock and allow it to move through them into acceptance and then the subsequent layers of grief. So often we just have to ‘get on with it’. The assumption is that it will take care of itself. We think we are succeeding if we can ‘get on with it’ despite the shock. But what we don’t know is that that state of shock imbeds itself in the tissues of our body. It damages the emotional body. It disables us from really moving forward. We can in fact be stuck in a state of shock for years. As I am integrating shock in my current life, all the places in my past where I could not process the shock and therefore suppressed it instead are coming forward. This week, I have been drug back to my childhood, back into the horror of what occurred there. I have been forced by my own consciousness back to resolve multiple occurrences of unprocessed shock.
Integrating shock is not an affair that I would wish on anyone. It is ironic that I am going through this on the very week that the process I designed for integration (The Completion Process) has been released to the world. Like birth, in the middle of the process, every fiber in me often screams with regret that I ever created this process. A part of me would like to stay fractured instead of feel the pain of healing. But also like birth, in the wake of each integration, I am left with the most incredible relief and gratitude. Like some part of me that was imprisoned in a torture chamber has finally been set free.
In the wake of shock, on and off I have been able to experience such peacefulness in the tiny mundane aspects of every day life. It is as if life settled. The numb and tormenting stillness has melted, letting the frantic movement within escape. The frozen silence has cracked and let the sounds of the world in. The screaming inside has quieted. I have felt a taste of the ecstasy of presence. I have caught myself staring at the light creating brilliant fractals on the bottom of my drinking glass. I have felt tickled by the sound of the aspen trees quivering. I have felt the warmth of the sink water running over my hands. Life feels abundant with sensory delights. As a result, I have revived my love of cooking.
The stray quinoa grains bouncing like tiny white bouncing balls across the granite counter. The sand like feeling of them in the strainer. The way they move under the faucet stream makes them seem excited to participate in the dish they are going to be a part of. The earthy bodies of the black beans. The brilliant summer heat that makes its way into the flavor of the vine ripened tomatoes. The sharp snapping sound of the knife against the vivid flesh of the bell peppers. The way red wine vinegar bites at your sinuses in a way that makes you curious to breathe deeply so you can feel the bite again. The slippery comfort of the olive oil and the way it slides itself into every recess it can find as if it is reassuring all the other ingredients involved.
I love cooking. I love everything about it. For me, each dish is like an edible piece of art. But an art piece that has the power to amalgamate living beings. There is an emptiness to enjoyment when it is not shared. So, to end this blog in alignment with my desire to have you share in this enjoyment of mine, I am going to give you a recipe of mine…
Teal’s Quinoa Summer Salad
2 cups uncooked quinoa
4 cups vegetable broth
3 cups corn kernels
1 large green pepper (diced small)
1 large red pepper (diced small)
3 cups black beans (cooked)
2 cups kidney beans (cooked)
2 cups black olives (sliced)
2 cups cherry tomatoes (quartered)
4 green onions (chopped)
1/2 cup olive oil
1/3 cup red wine vinegar
2 garlic cloves
Salt to taste
Rinse the quinoa well. Combine it with the vegetable broth and bring it to a boil. Turn the heat down so that it is simmering and cook it uncovered for 15 minutes or until all the liquid is absorbed. Then turn the heat off and cover it with a lid and let it stand for five minutes. Fluff it with a fork and put it in a very large bowl.
Toss it with the corn, green pepper, red pepper, black beans, kidney beans, olives, cherry tomatoes and green onions.
In a food processor or blender, combine the olive oil, vinegar, garlic cloves and about 1 tsp. of salt. Blend until frothy and creamy. Pour it over the quinoa/vegetable mix and toss well until the salad is well coated. Add salt if needed to taste and serve. This recipe makes enough for a large party or for abundant leftovers.
My clavicles ache and there is a pressure throughout my organs due to the carbon dioxide insufflation. My throat is sore from the breathing tube. Still dizzy as the anesthesia is wearing off, I am informed that the whole of Teal Tribe has caught wind that I went into surgery yesterday. I think to myself… I need to write a blog.
Those of you who have read previous blog posts know that I struggle with endometriosis. Besides causing intense pain, endometriosis often creates infertility. I have taken every alternative approach to healing that I could find, to no avail. And two weeks ago, right after returning home from California, I lined up with a nasty surprise. I went into a hospital for an HSG test. It’s a nasty little test where the doctor injects dye into your uterus and up through your fallopian tubes under an x ray machine to make sure everything is open and healthy. To the left is what it should look like. My results were terrible. The kind of terrible where the doctor sits you down after the test to break the news that you’re infertile because both of your tubes are totally blocked due to scar tissue. I cried the entire way home. It seems no matter how much I want to let go of my past, it wont let go of me.
The doctor scheduled a surgery for the very next week to cauterize the endometriosis they could find, take a few biopsies and remove both of my fallopian tubes. It is a surgery that I have had 4 different experts tell me I need to have. I’ve been putting it off for years in favor of alternative medical approaches. But this time, with Ale’s encouragement, I decided to go ahead with the surgery. Doing so was the only way to make In Vitro Fertilization a future possibility. So, I had 5 master healers work on the problem in preparation for the surgery.
Yesterday was a blur of terror. There is nothing worse for someone with PTSD than anticipating pain and being forced to trust someone who has the power to cause you pain. On top of that, my childhood abuse involved both anesthesia and injury to the very organs that were slated for surgery. Surgery is a bit like legal butchery. We sat in the hospital waiting for two hours. When the anesthesiologist came in, he looked over my history, placed the IV in my vein and gave me an extra dose of narcotic analgesic. I felt all the fear disappear and couldn’t move my muscles. Ale kissed me on the forehead and I was rolled down the hallway into the huge operating room. The nurses transferred me to the operating table and strapped my arms down in a cross position. The anesthesiologist stood over me and told me to think of the happiest place I could think of. I imagined a pool of purple water, overlooking an other worldly purple ocean. And just like that as if someone had stolen my consciousness away, I was in peaceful darkness.
The surgery took just over two hours. The 2 surgeons worked with a laparoscope inserted in two slits, one in my belly button and the other just above my pubic bone. They surveyed my entire abdomen, took a pap smear, cauterized scar tissue, performed the biopsies and performed another die test (both ways). But to their absolute bewilderment, they found both fallopian tubes to be completely open. So, they left them intact. They said either both HSG tests I have had in my life just did not work on my abnormally shaped tubes, or a miracle happened between the test and the surgery day. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
But the weirdest thing that happened during the surgery is that they found a patch of very unusual white tissue on the outside top of my uterus that looked like it had small burn marks in it (actual picture to the right). Both doctors were positive that it must have been the result of a previous surgery. They took some of the tissue to send to a lab. But I have never had a surgery before this one. So, unless my childhood abuser actually managed to perforate my uterine wall while performing the forced abortions (until the results come back) it is a medical mystery.
When I came back to consciousness, I had only one memory from the surgery. I was outside my body for a fraction of a second, watching the nurses hold my legs open for the dye test to be performed while I was unconscious and then a close up of the breathing tube they had inserted. Everything besides that was pristine darkness. It was so hard to keep my eyes open. I kept falling to sleep and coming out of it. At one point, Ale was feeding me applesauce from a spoon while my eyes were closed. He and Graciela were laughing about the surprise results of the surgery. “I told you I have a miracle vibration,” she said out loud laughing. Eventually, I was loaded into my car via a wheel chair and with the seat reclined, I slept on and off up the canyon. I was carried straight into bed, where except for a few assisted trips to the bathroom, I slept through the night.
I have been in bed all day. My abdomen feels like someone let a rat loose inside me to run through every corridor and scratch its claws into my organs. I’m sore. But I SO prefer physical pain to emotional pain that in comparison to most of what I’ve gone through the last two years, it is nothing. So far, I’ve been able to avoid narcotic pain meds. I have been keeping myself busy with the glory and intrigue of the Olympics. It’s ironic that several of my worst illnesses have coincided luckily with the Olympics… Such a great distraction for a sports enthusiast like me.
I have a real challenge in front of me now. This is my single day of recovery before I have to be on an airplane at 6:00 am bound for Portland Oregon. I am hosting a synchronization workshop there on Saturday. I’m going to be that person being wheeled through the airport in a wheelchair. I’ve rented a place where I can lie inside and do nothing the day before the workshop. We’ve cancelled all my pre-workshop engagements. Transformation waits for no one as they say.
Knowing that so many Teal Tribe members were focusing on me during the moment of the surgery and knowing that most all of Teal Tribe is holistic in their approach to health, it is a potential that the collective’s desire for my tubes to be saved, actually brought them back to life. Weirder things have happened in the world of spontaneous healings. Either way, thank you for being there for me and with me yesterday. And as always, I love you very much.
The rusted, metal garden sculpture twists in rhythmic patterns with the wind. Watching it through the bay window has become an unintentional meditation. The mind stops because it cannot create meaning out of its movements. Emotion gives way like a curtain to feeling. The simple perception of what is.
I am in Portland, Oregon. Since landing here, I have been greeted with a juxtaposition of two opposing spiritual practices. The first, “I create my own reality”. The practice of controlling your thoughts so as to make life what you want life to be. The second, “Control is an illusion and nothing more than a resistance to what is.” The practice of awareness, acceptance and dis identification with the ego. These two spiritual principals stand like a married couple whose love has soured. In my mind, I hear them screaming at one another. Each position is full of invalidation of the opposing philosophy. In the middle, I can see the benefits and pitfalls of both positions. I can see that I am being called to some awareness beyond both practices. It is not developed yet. This existential conundrum is in the pressure cooker of my mind and heart. I am yet to see the finished product.
Just two days post-surgery, I had to travel through the airport and plane via wheelchair today. It was an excellent exercise in perspective. Initially, I felt the embarrassment that comes with being the center of attention in a compromised position. In truth, I have never experienced people being nicer to me in all my life. Quite to my astonishment, and contrary to my usual state, I felt completely safe around people. Instantly, people were going out of their way to be friendly and to compliment me. Instantly, they were taking care of me and making sure my needs were met. It was as if everyone rallied around me and the usual abrasion was gone. There was no more social pressure. I became everyone’s pet. In the relief of that lack of pressure, I felt a fury that this is what it takes to make people be nice. I had to sit with the fury long enough to see that in this position, they perceived me as posing no threat to them anymore. The ego can feel good about itself when it has something pathetic to compare itself to.
I have a friend who I text with all the time who is wheelchair bound due to cerebral palsy. He is one of the most optimistic people I’ve ever met. We have gotten into a few friendly arguments about people. His argument usually goes something like this “people are inherently good and friendly and you have to put more faith in them”. Today, in conjunction with the heated bitterness that arose as a result of the experience of being in a wheelchair, I sent him a text from the airport that said, “I know why you think everyone is nice now”. It was a friendly jab that opened up a whole new dimension of conversation about having been thrust into an exercise of understanding with him. He asked me to tell him how it felt. I texted back that I felt pitied, sorry for myself, not seen and underestimated. I told him what I experienced when I settled into the initial relief of having all the abrasive social pressure give way to niceness… Vampirism.
The human ego needs to see itself a certain way. When it encounters a situation that enables it to see itself the way it wants to see itself, it greets the situation like a feeding frenzy. Today, stuck in a wheelchair, I experienced myself being used as a tool to help people feed their own need to experience themselves as “good”. They did not really care about me as a person; it was more that being nice to me (as someone in a compromised position) was an opportunity to experience themselves as a ‘good person’. And this caused them to relax. It felt like my condition was being fed off of, like a vampire drinks blood. When I told my friend this he responded, “now you know how I feel sometimes”. My heart hurt at the idea of spending a life being fed off of like that. I imagine the only way to be able to deal with it would be to create an identity for yourself around helping people experience their own goodness. To some degree, to avoid isolation, I imagine you’d have to make it ok to be fed off of in that way.
Aside from a deeper understanding of my friend and of the human condition, I gained an incredible awareness today about just how threatened people are by me. I am so used to the exhausting coarseness of people’s undivided attention and subsequent resistance to me when I walk into a room that I had taken the abrasiveness for normal. A fish does not understand water until it experiences air so to speak. I didn’t know there was a different way to feel in a social atmosphere. I’m not sure which is better and which is worse. The corrosive nature of being perceived as a threat by the collective is both painful and traumatizing. It puts trust out of reach. But the relief of not being perceived as a threat by the collective was… diminishing.
As you know, whenever I go to a new city, everyone waits with baited breath for my energetic diagnosis of the city. So, I wont keep you waiting any longer.
The dominant negative vibration of Portland, Oregon is: Socked In. Socked in is an idiom that conveys a pattern of energy. It is most often used to describe the state of being trapped or otherwise restricted because of fog. When an airport is “socked in”, the planes cannot take off. As it applies to Portland, socked in is a metaphor for the dominant negative energetic state of the people here. Depression is the most common emotional manifestation of this dominant energetic pattern. To generalize, the people of Portland are socked into themselves. They are lonely because of it. There is a lack of movement of the being within the body as a result of it. When you watch someone on an opiate drug, it is as if they sink deep within a hole inside themselves and an emotional and mental fogginess keeps them at the bottom of this inner hole. Many people in Portland are in a minor mental and emotional version of this state without opiates. That being said, the drug use in this city is VERY high. When you feel emotionally and mentally socked in, the pain of the restriction often forces people to try to find relief in any way they can, legal or illegal.
Depression manifests when we have a painful relationship with the universe at large or as some would say, with the divine. There are many things that can happen in our lives that put us at odds with the universe at large. For example, if you have a really hard breakup, you may be thrown into an existential crisis because you feel like the universe gives you signs that something is right only to be hurt by it to the degree that it seems like a mistake in retrospect. This can make it feel like the universe is not on the side of your happiness. A painful relationship with the universe is the result. You end up feeling like no matter how hard you try to move towards your desires, only pain will result. And many, many people in Portland have a dysfunctional relationship with the universe at large, most especially because there is such an overabundance of astral energy here… As you will see with the dominant positive vibration of Portland.
The dominant positive vibration of the city is: Depth. So many cities exhibit a shallowness. A shallowness to the people and to the concerns of the people. Most of all, a shallowness to the astral body of the city itself. Portland is not one of these cities. The people here are deep. The land here is deep. The history is deep. The astral body of the city itself is so thick and so deep that it feels like the city itself has a double life. A life on the physical plane and a life on the non physical plane. But its life on the non physical plane is so strong that it’s contents can be felt by even the most spiritually cut off people. I am quite convinced that because of the astral dimension here, the only way to survive Portland if you were not a spiritual person would be to use drugs. In a place with this large of an astral body, there is just no other way to escape yourself. This city is the exact opposite of Los Angeles. I would love to transplant the people of Portland to LA and the People of LA to Portland. Doing so would transmute the dominant negative vibration in each group of people. I am quite at home in the depth here. But I have spent my life traveling in the astral realm. I watch people struggle with it however. Not knowing how to cope with the depth here is like watching people emotionally struggle for air. Each person here would benefit immensely by selecting a medicine man or shaman or spiritual guide to mentor them. I often teach spiritual skills that enable a person to learn directly from the universe so they do not have to rely on anyone external for spiritual guidance. However, as it applies to Portland, mentorship is a very good idea.
Too many people are in over their heads here with all the astral influences and with the dominant negative vibration. This is not a place I would suggest people to live unless they are specifically looking to delve into both the internal and external spiritual realms. One exception may be artists. Artists can channel the waves of the spiritual dimension without having to be particularly aware of them; as a result, they are not drowned by them. I LOVE the depth of the dimensions here. I could spend more than a lifetime exploring the astral body of Portland and it’s surrounding land. One would run into the most extraordinary creatures and thought forms here. I LOVE mental, emotional and spiritual depth. I feel like a fish in water in it. It pains me to see people drowning in it. This would be the most difficult part of it. If I lived here, I would be spending a very large amount of my time out of body being called to assist in situations where people are committing suicide.
The key to a successful life in Portland is to be ACTIVE. This vibration is the one that will dissipate the dominant negative vibration of the city. If you live in Portland, be mentally active, be physically active and be spiritually active. Slipping into passivity could prove to be a fatal move. The people of Portland need to really put forth the effort and discipline to be “doers” on all levels. If I had a goal for the city to bring it into balance, it would be to create more activities for people to attend or participate in than any other city in the nation. Any activities that center around community or group events are a necessary endeavor. I’m convinced this is a large part of why native cultures were able to thrive here as opposed to modern cultures. There is an assumption that doing is a contradiction to being. This is not the case. When being gives rise to action (which it naturally does), those actions are the ones with the most power and impact. So, if you live in Portland and you start to feel socked into yourself and like you are drowning or lonely, even if it feels hard to do, get active. There is no time to waste.
I have a feeling that given the dominant theme of this city, Saturday’s workshop will be a great deal about initiating movement… The action steps that follow in the footsteps of being. I can feel a great many attendees lacking the initiative to take the action steps to get un-stuck. Luckily, I carry the vibration of freedom. This is one of my single favorite spiritual issues to catalyze and subsequently to help set people free from. As a result, I am genuinely excited for Saturday.
According to Wikipedia, XML-RPC is a remote procedure call which uses XML to encode its calls and HTTP as a transport mechanism. In short, it is a system that allows you to post on your WordPress blog using popular weblog clients like Windows Live Writer. It is also needed if you are using the WordPress mobile app. It is also needed if you want to make connections to services like IFTTT.
If you want to access and publish to your blog remotely, then you need XML-RPC enabled.
In the past, there were security concerns with XML-RPC thus it was disabled by default. In his comment on trac ticket #21509, @nacin one of the core contributors of WordPress said:
Quite a bit has changed since we introduced off-by-default for XML-RPC. Their code has improved, and it is no longer considered a second-class citizen when it comes to API development, thanks to the work of a large team of awesome contributors. Security is no greater a concern than the rest of core.
There is no longer a compelling reason to disable this by default. It’s time we should remove the option entirely.
With the increasing use of mobile, this change was imminent. However some security cautious folks may say that while the XML-RPC’s security is not that big of an issue, it still provides an additional surface for attack if a vulnerability was ever found. Thus, keeping it disabled would make more sense.
To keep everyone happy, while the user interface option and the database option to turn off XML-RPC has been removed, there is a filter that you can use to turn it off if needed.
All you have to do is paste the following code in a site-specific plugin:
While the above solution is sufficient for many, it can still be resource intensive for sites that are getting attacked.
In those cases, you may want to disable all xmlrpc.php requests from the .htaccess file before the request is even passed onto WordPress.
Simply paste the following code in your .htaccess file:
# Block WordPress xmlrpc.php requests
deny from all
allow from 22.214.171.124