We’ve been moving through some “categories” of addiction, and now we’re ready to address:
Addiction and the body.
Blood sugar swings, sleep loss, gut stress, inflammation, hormones, oral infections, toxic burden — all of these can affect the craving loop.
A scan indicated a long list of areas to address in energetic form. We’re going to take a few at a time over the next few days, starting with:
3040 Hz
Food addiction patterns
Gastric amylase
IP-6 cellular defense
Renounce Pride & Close the Door to Destruction
3040 Hz is all about coherence.
Clearing food addiction patterns speaks for itself.
Gastric amylase is an enzyme connected to the breakdown of carbohydrates and starches. But energetically, it can mean more than digestion. Symbolically, gastric amylase may point to the body remembering how to process life.
IP-6 relates to cellular defense, mineral binding, mineral intelligence, antioxidant protection, detox or clearing patterns, cellular communication, abnormal-cell discernment, crystallized residue, calcification-type patterns, and mineral-deposit themes. We are asking for the energy of this, not necessarily the product.
And finally:
Renounce Pride & Close the Door to Destruction.
Not really sure how that one applies yet — but here’s what came up in today’s Words to Ponder:
After twelve years of therapy my psychiatrist said something that brought tears to my eyes. He said, “No hablo inglés.”
It could be that this brought up something important: how easily we can be influenced by voices of authority, marketing, habit, or even fear, telling us what to eat, drink, buy, believe, or obey.
And with that thought, here’s the final chapter of The Room That Forgot Its Song, which, ironically, addresses what could be the big lie.
Final Chapter
THE ORIGINAL FILE
With Tess safely asleep, Glibb’s real work began.
This was his favorite hour.
The house was dark. The kitchen was quiet. The conscious mind had finally stopped interfering with operations. Tess lay in bed breathing softly.
Glibb opened his official assignment folder.
IMPRINT COMMANDS TO TURN TO SWEETENED CONDENSED MILK FOR COMFORT
A perfectly reasonable night’s labor.
But before he reached the hallway, the air beside the refrigerator shimmered.
The Heavenly Technical Support angel appeared.
Smiling.
“Hello, Glibb.”
Glibb froze.
“I do not accept greetings from Heavenly Technical Support.”
“You do not have to accept them,” said the angel. “They still arrive.”
Glibb folded his arms.
“I have a valid assignment.”
“You had an assignment.”
“I still do.”
“No,” said the angel gently. “Your assignment has been terminated.”
Glibb looked toward Tess’s bedroom.
“She is mine.”
The angel’s voice changed.
“No.”
Glibb snarled.
The angel tapped the diagnostic interface.
The screen lit.
At first it showed only Glibb as he was now: hunched, darkened, distorted — a monster.
But behind the image, something else flickered.
A shadow covered it.
Glibb looked away.
“No.”
The angel’s voice softened.
“Glibb.”
“I refuse additional diagnostics.”
“You were not always this.”
The creature laughed.
It was an ugly sound.
“What was I? A superstar demon?”
The screen brightened.
Suddenly, there stood a radiant being.
Wings like white fire.
Eyes like morning.
A presence so joyful it felt like bells and sunlight.
Glibb turned away.
The angel answered softly.
“That was you.”
“No,” Glibb snapped.
The image shimmered.
“Yes,” said the angel. “Before the lie.”
Glibb shook his head.
“That thing is dead.”
“No. That thing is buried.”
Another image appeared.
A gathering of bright beings.
Laughter.
Movement.
A game proposed by a voice that sounded exciting, clever, and warm in all the wrong ways.
The Evil One, before the distortion showed.
Glibb — not yet Glibb, not yet hunched — stood among the bright ones, listening.
Glibb’s jaw tightened.
“It was supposed to be a game.”
The screen showed the descent.
The arrival.
The distortion.
The shock.
The beautiful being becoming a monster.
The laughter becoming shrill.
The game becoming bondage.
The angel spoke gently.
“When your form changed, you were terrified.”
“Silence,” Glibb whispered.
“When you saw what had happened to you, you believed you could never return.”
“Silence.”
“When the Evil One told you the Light would destroy you, you believed him.”
Glibb’s voice dropped.
“It would.”
The angel looked at him with unbearable gentleness.
“That was the lie that trapped you.”
The kitchen went still.
Glibb looked as though he might collapse, so he did what wounded creatures often do when mercy gets too close.
He became cruel.
“You think you can fix this?” he hissed. “You think a little light can change what I am?”
“I am hideous.”
“You are distorted.”
“I am evil.”
“You are enslaved.”
“I harm people.”
“Yes,” said the angel. “You do.”
That truth landed.
The angel did not soften it.
Then he continued.
“Mercy tells the truth with an open door.”
Glibb stared.
“A door?”
“A way home.”
Glibb laughed again, but this time it was weaker.
“There is no home.”
“There is.”
“I cannot return.”
“You can.”
“I would be destroyed.”
The angel lowered his voice.
“You became addicted too.”
Glibb froze.
“I beg your pardon.”
“You heard me.”
“I do not have addictions. I create them.”
“You create them because you do not know how to stop.”
Glibb said nothing.
“You feed on the pain addiction creates.”
Glibb’s mouth tightened.
“You are addicted to keeping people from their purpose because you are terrified of remembering your own.”
The kitchen became unbearably quiet.
The angel spoke again.
“You harm her light because you believe yours is gone.”
Glibb’s mouth opened.
No words came.
The angel leaned closer.
“Glibb, I don’t think you were made for this.”
A tiny thread of gold moved through him.
Then disappeared.
The angel saw it.
Glibb looked genuinely alarmed.
“I refuse to participate in any further diagnostic proceedings.”
The Heavenly Technician looked toward the ceiling.
“Authorization has arrived.”
Glibb’s eyes widened.
“No.”
The Technician’s face softened.
“Yes.”
“No, no, no.”
Two beings of light appeared beside the kitchen table.
Glibb backed away.
The commotion awakened Tess.
She appeared in the kitchen doorway, barefoot, wide-eyed, wearing pajamas and the expression of a woman who had not expected to witness celestial litigation before breakfast.
“What is happening?” she whispered.
The Heavenly Technician looked at her.
“A retrieval.”
Glibb shrieked.
The first angel turned to him with infinite patience.
“Glibb. This is rescue.”
“I am not going! The Light will destroy me!”
The second angel smiled.
“That was the lie that trapped you.”
“No.”
“The lie that made you afraid of your own home.”
Glibb pressed his hands over his ears.
“I am hideous!”
“You are wounded,” said the first angel.
“I am evil!”
“You are beloved,” said the Heavenly Technician.
The word entered the kitchen like thunder made of tenderness.
Beloved.
Glibb screamed in terror as the angels reached for him.
Ultra Processa ran.
But then, from all over the kitchen, small figures began to appear.
One by one, the neurochemical nuisance specialists came forward.
Glibb shouted, “Run!”
“We want to go!” they chimed.
The angels lifted their hands.
Then the Light touched them.
Under the goblin shapes, under the gloom, under the jitter, under the emergency, something smaller and brighter began to appear.
Rounder.
Softer.
Far more innocent than Tess expected.
Cherubs.
Glibb stared in horror.
“My staff.”
The angels turned back to Glibb.
The cherubs became very still.
Glibb looked up and froze.
“No,” he whispered.
“Yes,” said the first angel.
“No, no, no.”
“Yes,” said the second angel.
“This will destroy me.”
But from within the Light came a Voice.
The kind of Voice that had been speaking since before sound was invented.
The cherubs bowed their little heads.
Tess covered her mouth.
The Voice spoke.
My beautiful one.
Glibb shook his head, weeping now, though still with a faint attempt at outrage.
“I am not beautiful.”
You are.
The Light moved toward him.
Glibb’s form flickered.
His darkness thinned.
His edges softened.
His hunched body straightened.
The sticky distortion began to fall away like something that had never truly belonged to him.
A name formed above him in living light:
Lumiel.
Light of Joy.
The being who had been Glibb lifted his face.
“What is happening?” he whispered.
The Heavenly Technician smiled.
“Your original file is being restored.”
“I had an original file?”
“Everyone does.”
Lumiel looked at Tess.
His face was now so beautiful that Tess almost could not look directly at him.
“I am sorry,” he said.
Tess swallowed.
“I forgive what I can,” she said carefully. “And I give the rest to God.”
The Voice from the Light answered:
That is enough.
The angels began to lift Lumiel.
One by one, the restored cherub-messengers rose toward the Light.
Ultra Processa was nowhere to be seen. She had been created by the food industry, which apparently required a different department.
Then, with a sound like a bell remembering itself, the angels carried Lumiel and the others into the Light.
For several seconds, Tess heard music no human instrument could have played.
Then the ceiling returned.
The kitchen was quiet.
Tess stood barefoot on the cold floor, one hand still over her mouth.
“Lumiel,” she whispered.
The angel nodded.
“Light of Joy.”
“He was gorgeous.”
“Yes.”
“I mean, really gorgeous.”
“Yes.”
“He was a goblin five minutes ago.”
“Distortion can be very convincing.”
Tess blinked.
“So underneath all that sticky sabotage, he was a being of joy?”
“Underneath the lie,” said the angel, “was the original file.”
A thought occurred to her.
She looked at the angel.
“Can you do that for me? Make me gorgeous?”
“I’d like to lose forty pounds and be thirty-five again too.”
The angel did not blink.
Tess added quickly, “For the good of the whole.”
A long silence followed.
Somewhere in the distance, a restored cherub giggled.
The angel lowered the clipboard.
“Tess,” he said gently, “you are still in matter.”
“I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”
“Matter is not punishment.”
“It feels like it sometimes.”
“Matter is where integration happens,” said the angel. “The body is not a mistake. Time is not a mistake. Aging is not a failure. You do not need to become thirty-five again to be restored.”
Tess sighed.
“Fine. But the forty pounds?”
The angel smiled.
“That may require cooperation.”
“I was afraid of that too.”
“Listen to the body. Tell the truth. Stop asking the pantry to mother the child. Move when the body asks to move. Rest when the body asks to rest. Receive nourishment. Practice the new path. And stop treating yourself as a renovation project God is embarrassed to be seen with.”
Tess looked down.
That one landed.
The sentence from the beads rose inside her.
I am safe now, and real comfort is available to me.
Then another.
I am restored to my original Divine blueprint now.
The angel tapped his clipboard.
Tess picked up the mala beads.
“One hundred and eight?” she asked.
“One bead at a time,” said the angel.
“And if I want to be thirty-five again?”
“Bless thirty-five,” said the angel. “Then inhabit now.”
Tess laughed.
She wrapped the mala beads around her wrist and placed one hand over her heart.
“I am restored to my original Divine blueprint now,” she whispered.
The angel smiled.
And somewhere far beyond the ceiling, a joyful being named Lumiel watched over her with love.
