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September 21, 2007



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Lately, when I pay attention to my own internal work rather than insisting that others do theirs, I have become acquainted with a dissociated part of myself that I call Snail Girl. As you may remember, I find the sluggish part of Snail Girl particularly loathsome, but am coming to understand that all that amorphous slime encased by her shell was formed for protective purposes. Knowing that hasn't made it any more attractive, but I can tolerate sitting with that part of myself now.

I had a weird experience on Monday. I was toning and making ladies group noises with my sweet shaman, and


this may be too difficult for the faint of heart so stop right here if you're one of those.


and my mouth began to fill with foamy saliva, but it was not generated by my salivary glands. It had no flavor or maybe a mildly bitter taste (bile extra light). Not so bad ....interesting. Then, out of nowhere in the most literal sense, I felt a ball of stuff, not mucus, more like tapioca, which sped up my esophagus and came out of my mouth in a solid bubble which burst all over the front and collar of my pink linen shirt. We decided, in all silliness that it was ectoplasm. The stuff was clear, so no harm was done. An eerie experience, mildly akin to hot flashes and childbirth when your body does something quite nicely without you.


Aside: My shaman grew up in a household of scholars who were interested in the work of Edgar Casey. Her parents had a book about ectoplasm in their bedroom, complete with dramatic photos which she showed surreptitiously to her little friends throughout childhood. I should point out that she never saw any ectoplasm in person until Monday.

Ectoplasm?...... maybe. Hopefully, it was something to do with Snail Girl shedding sluggishness.

Other signs from the universe regarding the ectoplasm issue.

I changed my hair last Saturday, at my hairdresser's suggestion. This is always an experience rife with anxiety, so I hardly ever do it. I am now using this new product in an attempt to achieve this effect , if you overlook the adorable face. I have trundled along without my hairdresser this week, feeling rumpled, stiff and uncombed, with the help of lots and lots of gook in my hair. Ectoplasm? Ectoplasm made visible? brought out into the light? Well, it was a thought.

Yesterday, while searching for something quite unrelated on Amazon, I came upon this title, Fairies; The Cottingley Photographs and in the description ectoplasm pops up once again.

In "Fairies: The Cottingley Photographs" Gardner explains how he first became involved in the Cottingley Fairy mystery when he received two mysterious photographs in the post. The photographs--which appeared to include images of fairies--were sent by a friend who sought Gardner's opinion as to whether or not they were genuine. Although Gardner treated the mystery with caution, and sought the advice of various photography experts, he was also excited about the discovery. In many ways, the book should be a case study in delusion. Gardner wanted to believe the photos were genuine, and he approached the situation with extreme prejudice. When he meets Frances, for example, he notes that she "had loosely knit ectoplasmic material in her body." So obviously Gardner was hardly a skeptic. But, while Gardner's excitement seeps through the pages, also dragging along behind is his intention not to be party to a fraud. Unfortunately, he fixated on the idea of identifying any tampering or evidence of touch-up in the photos. He simply wasn't prepared for the machinations of two little girls. Furthermore, he was stunned by an expert's opinion that the fairies in the photographs "moved during exposure."

So, for now, I'm going with the sluggish, slimey flow, and hoping for the best. It's probably one of the gifts of clairgustiance. I had wished for something more attractive.

Photo note: When casting about for an ectoplasmic shot that I have taken in the last week or so, I found this one of a water glass. I hated the couch fabric in the background, but since I already gave the glass away as a present, I can't take something better As I was wishing I hadn't taken the picture on the couch, I realized that I had an aura with ectoplasm (the fabric of the couch)

Addendum: While we're on the subject here are instructions and exercises for better perceiving auras -- I don't know about you, but I could sure use some help.

Posted by Dakota at September 21, 2007 12:53 PM