Limitations of Matter

Last night I attended a speaker night at school. Four different DCs spoke. The evening left me with quite a bit to ponder and process. The inspirational stories they shared with us as well as their passion for the betterment of human kind through chiropractic uplifted me and I was giddy. We left school and piled into my car heading for J’s house to have hot coco and tea. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I heard a noise but dismissed it quickly. We climbed up the street and I heard another sound and turned off the radio to cut out as much extraneous noise as possible. It was the unmistakable fwump fwump sound of a flat tire making its revolution. I quickly pulled into the alleyway by the gym and we emptied my trunk and got to work. The universe provided several knowledgeable friends and the muscle to get the job done. I still had my headlamp in the car and it became quite useful. Security with their impeccable timing showed up just as we were piling back into the car. We turned around, pulled out and parked in the church parking lot. Then it was on to J’s house for fellowship, ice cream and something warm to drink. I look forward to future fellowship with these wise women.
Twice last night I spoke with the MIB – the first time during the tire changing adventure and then later just before leaving J’s house. The second time I spoke with him I shared with him a revelation that I had while listening to the last speaker talk. I realized that it is important for me from a conceptual standpoint to reject the fact that he has diabetes. I do him a grave disservice by thinking of him as someone with a disease for it limits my ability to see him as a whole person. I remember when I got terribly ill in middle school and how I struggled with the pity others showed me because I couldn’t eat this or that and was so immune compromised. All the allowances that had to be made for me and the tiptoeing pissed me off. Then slowly I began to refuse to accept that I was ill and that I realized that the only limits I faced were of my own creation. A diagnosis is a tricky thing indeed. Many ill people won’t rest until they have a name for their disease or condition. When given a diagnosis, it is not surprising that they may actually develop more symptoms manifesting the disease for which they now have a name. Once named, they adopt their disease, take it home, and set a place for it at the dining room table. Dr. M says that the greatest disservice we can show our patients is being more interested in their disease than in their potential for the perfect expression of the great I AM. This brings me back to the MIB and to my own great experiment. I am in the evolution business and have a clear idea that I will look like a very different version of myself in a year. The MIB knows that I am not asking him to stop taking his insulin. I am inviting him to challenge his conceptions of the limitations of his own matter and see what results.
This also brings me to an uncomfortable thought. The last speaker was right up my alley talking about quantum mechanics and perceptions of time and reality. She posited an interesting hypothesis that if we consider that chiropractic removes interference and allows for a more perfect expression of human consciousness that we may actually be shortening people’s lives. Let me back up a bit lest I lose you. She talked about how in here current state of consciousness she believes that we are all here to fulfill a certain number of tasks, our soul purpose. When we have reached our goal, we will be done literally and figuratively. Therefore, someone under chiropractic care could potentially achieve their soul purpose in 20 years rather than 80. I’m still chewing on this one. I take comfort in the knowledge that I am a spiritual being having a physical experience on this earth. When I die, only my physical being will decay and my spirit will continue in some other form of expression. The part that I am uncomfortable with is the idea that in my quest for the fulfillment of my destiny that I may be rushing to the finish line. Living to 400 doesn’t sound like much fun, however, I’m not mentally or emotionally prepared to meet my maker any time soon.