The Place of Angels “yes butters”

Another of my visitors at The Place of Angels was someone who had yuppie flu or Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and contrary to Babette  (who I wrote about here) who did things to improve her life, Miss Yuppie Flu simply said ‘yes but ‘ all the time and did nothing. It was the early days of my experiences with people so the more she ‘yes butted’ the more I tried to help her.  The minute someone says ‘yes, but’ in any shape or form stop talking immediately, stand up and usher them out pleasantly. Your work is over. I wrote an article about ‘Yes But’ which you will find as my last post.

After I had written this article, I practised three things which was a kind of self-discipline Sheel suggested. You might like to try this – it’s very difficult, and you’ll find it most illuminating.

The first task is to go one whole day without saying the word ‘I’.

The second task is to go one whole day without saying ‘no’.

The third is to go one whole day without saying ‘yes but’ to anything or any of its mutations like those found in my article.

Some extraordinary insights dawn about how self centred and manipulative we are – and we will expose some hidden stuff that we have been unaware of.

Now the man mentioned in my ‘Yes But’ article (see previous post) who wasted my time parodying my answers, was also a sufferer of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. When I read the flow of the energy centres, the three lowest took shape of typically Chronic Fatigue Syndrome ‘flattened plates’ and were hardly discernible to my hands. When we faint, this is what happens to our energy centres. They flatten out. He was in a semi and constant state of fainting.

He had tried every conceivable means to make himself feel better. Every doctor in the area had had a shot at him – and so had most of the holistic healers. He was incurable. Some years after his first visit to me, I had grown in knowledge and wisdom and put together a procedure or treatment that had been taught to me. I phoned this chap up and asked him to be my guinea pig. He had also grown in knowledge and wisdom, for the first thing I noticed was that he had changed his Yes Butting ways. He was simply too desperate to have any defences left.

His condition was costing him money because he often couldn’t work and his wife was very tired of him. He was trying a diet given to him by a well known dietitian in Johannesburg and he was popping vitamin pills by the dozen daily but he was no better. He agreed quite rapidly to be my guinea pig. He was very good, for he, like Babette, DID it. He used to fly to Europe a lot and on one of his trips bought himself a whole set of the finest silk underpants which he wore daily as part of his Magnetic Field Treatment. He used candles and lanterns in his home after nine in the evening (in South Africa it gets dark early even in the summer) and, because of this new romantic atmosphere in their home his relationship with his wife improved.

However the final cure for his illness was not because of my treatment – or maybe it was – but a change in attitude to himself and his life.

One day, after months of self denial, self discipline and strict adherence to the vitamin pill routine, cleansing foods, whole foods, vegetarian foods and health foods, he found himself at a wedding. On the table in front of him lay the most glorious selection of food which he hadn’t tasted for months. All were forbidden, strictly taboo, full of stuff guaranteed, if not to kill him outright, would definitely cause him to feel collapsed and weak and ruin his health.

His mouth watered at the sight of platters of savouries and sweets. There were cold meats, smoked salmon, creamy dips, crispy pastries, snacks, voluvents filled with chicken and mushrooms and others with succulent prawns clinging to the edges, slices of cold roast beef and pork, and a host of exotic cheeses. There were ice creams, trifles, chocolate puddings, strawberry whips and tons of forbidden devastatingly sinful taste delights. But the idea that gripped him especially was that of sipping a glass of champagne and most of all, an ice cold beer.

Suddenly he realised that he was terrified of living and terrified of dying. It dawned on him that he was so terrified of dying it stopped him enjoying being alive and he’d walled himself away from the good things that made being alive worthwhile.

At that moment he reported to me later he said to himself.

“Blast this; I’m not going to put up with that any more!”

He was filled with a new energy of pleasure. His state of terror evaporated, courage flowed through him, and delight and joy at being alive gripped him. Life was a celebration – every minute of it. He grabbed the arm of a passing waiter.

“Please bring me a beer!” He said. And the waiter did.

This man had up to then an almost complete absence of energy flowing through the lowest energy centres according to the readings from my hands. Now the lower energy centres are the rooting sensual energies that make us feel safe and happy. They give us energy and drive. Somehow during his moment of insight he rooted himself successfully and the energy began to flow again in the proper fashion. He became well!


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