I never really knew or liked my ancestors. Disease, displacement and discrimination. Bags of religious dogma.
Suppressed women and lost men.
Keep that away from me, I spluttered inside.
I couldn't avoid it forever. I had to heal. They announced their arrival by clamping my jaw, tightening my tentorium- a large membrane running across the back of my skull and throwing a thick blanket over my chest. The jaw, upper cervical spine, the atlas and shoulders often bear the weight of ancestral energy.
I found my teeth grinding, like an angry tiger.
The physical pain was tough, persistent. The unspeakable exhaustion was worse. I didn't know where to start so I started doing all the healing stuff. My bag of tools came out. A predictable response perhaps,
But I was drinking from the poison chalice. Their doing mode was now my doing mode. Doing to escape. Doing to solve. I had to stop doing stuff.
By day 7 I was close to losing my mind, my jaw was dense and locked and I found myself wondering if the osteopath down the road would be able to solve all this with a single adjustment - then it wouldn't have to be my problem.
WOW! The battle was alive within.