Day 8: I Juiced f****g WHAT?

Today’s fresh pressed experiments.

Organs for Organs

So I’m on Day 9 of a fickle menstrual period. Day 4, I suffered a debilitating, walk-on-one-foot-wishing-I-was-in-a-wheelbarrow-or-dead endometriosis attack, wherein I lost a nice fat gatorade bottle of blood/uterine tissue. The last few days I’ve been working on rebuilding my blood stores.

Of course I’ve been nutriting with the usual, taking 6 caps of Gui Zhi Fu Ling Wan every couple hours, and fortifying with spirulina and various other iron supplements. My juice is greener than the pacific northwest on a rain bender. My chlorophyll counts are high. My blood may be green like Spock’s soon nuff.

Hemocyanin? No, wait, that’s blue blood. Spock is not a horseshoe crab.

Indeed, today’s experiment included adding a small handful of raw pastured veal liver to my juice.

Didn’t I show you an image like this a couple days ago? That last one came *out* of me. This one goes *in* me.

Raw. Veal. Liver.

One would think it would be gross AF, or trigger involuntary squeam screams, but amidst all the other herbal witchcraft I have going on in my cauldron — err, Nutribullet — I barely noticed any flavors other than the kinda unflattering decay taste of the 4-days-too-ripe avocado. Nope, I think adding *actual* liver to my mix so far was a really brilliant ingredient, as I’m feeling pretty chipper and indestructible today.

I wanted to start small in case the Grossification Factor peaked too high for my tongue‘s inhouse gag receptors, so I sectioned off about 2 tbsp of the raw flesh. Then I spun it amongst my other greenery. A half rotten avocado for fats, a couple tablespoons of pressed raw thailand coconut milk, also for fats, spirulina, irish moss gel, and a tablesquirt of chinese jujube paste for kidney and heart tonification. After all these additions to my liquid of choice (Mom I Forgot The Lemons Juice), it turned out great!

Plus, the best part of the day is telling the natural market meat monger that “Nope, it’s not for my kitty. It’s for me. Yep, and I’m eating it raw.” When you say this shit, you enthusiastically examine people’s faces for signs of squeam, and with this guy, I got nothin’. I love how unfazed he was. Methinks I will turn up the thermostat on my weird raw flesh requests until I find his breaking point. “Yeah dude, I’m feeling kind of vampyric today is all.” “Hey, do you have thymus gland? I’m feeling a little hypo.”

My internal dialogue: “I just wanna see you barf.” This is so the conversation I was having when I was 12 years old on the side of the PE field.

New Zealand Glandular Rabbit Hole (Bovine hole sounds gross)

Okay, so the liver experiment I picked up today was from a family farm in Pennsylvania, and while that ticks “Not from California”, off my list, it doesn’t meet my “From a non-Northern Hemisphere place with pristine food quality” marker.

Soooo many hours today were spent squeezing my matronly hips down an internet rabbit hole all about New Zealand agriculture freeze dried glandular products. This all excites me. It excites me, not just because it will gross out the vegans and have them write me off forever and ever just as they thought I was some radical vegan hippie member of their tribe. It excites me because I found the upstream provider of freeze dried bovine and ovine adrenals, heart, kidney, thymus, spleen, liver, thyroid, and prostate.

Prostate!

Can you imagine how many feminist fangs would instasharpen if they heard they can dine on pulverised prostate? Okay, anyway, that’s not the cause of my excitement, those precious 3rd wavers can go shove their bullshit back in their lipsticked lady piehole.

I’m excited because I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on encapsulated thyroid, encapsulated glandulars, at precious little prices through my naturopaths. Have endured supply dropouts. And it was never enough. I could never actually get over the hill with that type of supplementation — it just wasn’t effective! If I can spend the same amount per kilo I was spending on a supplement with 75g total per bottle, I could get a lot done faster, and I wouldn’t have that burdensome feeling that the pills are just too precious to take, so they make better shelf decor than supplementation.

That’s the damn thing, right? Ever had a supplement prescribed to you that was so expensive you felt better looking at it than taking it?

When you’re battling chronic diseases and actually making steps to take back your control of your life and biology, you don’t just need these bullshit elementary little precious pills. You need a lot of shit. And you need it all the time. You can’t let the lesion legion win. You have to destroy their environment and take them, kicking and screaming out of your bodily forest. And that’s that.

Your Tongue is the executive secretary and it has a PhD in your physiology.

And you need to TASTE IT. Your body needs to tell you, straight up, “I need this.” It does this with the tongue. Your tongue is the front line of your own bodily doctor’s office. Your tongue is on the front line, feeling things before you drop it down the hatch. Your tongue is connected to your brain. Taking a licked finger and plunging it into a bowl of moringa-spirulina-liver-graviola-mugwort-whatever-the0heck is in your herbarium, then back on your tongue or under your tongue/gums is like sending a telegraph from the secretary to the doctor’s backoffice, plopping an idea down on the table, and having all the conscious parts of you who know you best sit at their little cranial conference table, discuss it amongst themselves, then tell you whether you — the conglomeration of cells and consciousness that is Real You — need this substance or not. They don’t talk it in words or pictures, they communicate in feeling and taste. Learn to lean in to what that taste tells you. It doesn’t lie: you just unconsciously ignore all the signals all the time and suffer the consequences. So quit it. Make friends with your tongue. Make friends with stuff that tastes really gross.

You can be your own doctor.

You are the only person QUALIFIED to be your own doctor (I’m sorry haha, that’s not true, but I’m on a roll here).

You are the only person who cares enough, and knows you well enough, and who will be with you, even through the dark hours.

My tongue is telling me to use avocados faster.

Okay, back to New Zealand, because I glossed over it.

I’m so charged up about this discovery, because what builds and rebuilds tissue is the tissue itself. Now, okay, I’m not a cow, but I am a mammal, and our humanoid glands are made up of pretty much the same stuff. You know what a lion goes for first on its kill? Its glands. The liver. The good shit.

I have a kid with a heart problem. I can’t wait, seriously, to buy some kilos of New Zealand bovine hearts and slipfeed it into my kid’s chocolate milk every day. Heh, and me-as-mom’s chocolate milk is nothing like the Nesquik foisted upon me at that age, oh no. If I am responsible for the human life that will take care of me and the planet, father future generations of benevolent little beings, I better be responsible enough to present Babyfeed Overkill with all the assimilable superfood he can fit into his frame. Plus, it tastes better than Nesquik. Without the sugar sprinkled drugs.

See where the Cesium isn’t? NZ, Australia, Argentina, Chile, South Africa. Source.

And this map was from 2014. The contamination has spread throughout the California coast.

And just because of the natural global tradewinds, and how the jet streams work over the oceans on this planet, it’s not as likely to spread to the Southern Hemisphere for a bit longer.

So. New Zealand. Kiwis will save the world.

Deep Red Experiments

Sun steeped. Ready to build some BLOOD.

All right. Let me quickly touch upon another set of body experiments that have been workin’ my body good these past couple days.

Chinese Medicine doctors rx RED STUFF to me during times of anemia. I scrounged through my medicine pack and recovered some Peruvian Jujubes (chinese red dates, a big deal in the TCM world), himalayan goji berries, and turkish red cherries. I soaked the first two in mineral water out in the sunlight for a day, then brought them back in, blended them, then strained out the solids. The charged up liquids from these experiments were mine for the feasting, while the solids ended up in the kids superfood smoothies and chocolate milks for the day.

I was worried about the sugar content in the dates and berries, but upon touching my tongue, my body asked thirstily for more. Cautious, I mixed the sweet stuff with some antifungals in case the wrong entities were asking for sweets (bee propolis and oregano essential oil — that oughtta kill ‘em) and immune boosters (chaga mushroom) and some sprouted walnut milk for good measure (brain ftw!).

Surprisingly, with a concentrated dose of sweet syruppy goji-jujube juice, I kept in deep ketosis… win!

I appreciate creeping around the sweet stuff and finding what works for my body. I’m guessing the body really appreciated the polysaccaride content in the goji berries. I’m guessing, actually, that most of my experiments went well today, and this is why I’m all of sudden feeling very flexible and capable.

Keeping it Purple.

I get this little dopamine rush when I test dip my reagent stick and my ketosis reading is deep purple, signifying my body is burning ketones instead of carbs. This is just a small indicator that my body is headed in the right direction, utilising my stored up fat for energy instead of keeping it as the jiggly waist decor it had been previously. I don’t want to lose all the fat. I must say, one of the lovely perks about juice feasting is being able to let go of the weight that the body has accumulated during times of severe disease events, while resetting the underlying disease signal. I’m really seriously looking forward to being myself again, and being vital very long into my years.

One of my lifelong goals is to be a vibrant elder woman, full of wisdom, full of stories and songs, and mother/grand/greatgrandmother to a wide clutch of talented, connected, creative children/grandchildren/greatgrandchildren. I want to be building treehouses when I’m 70. I want to be racing canoes with my grandkids. I want to be writing and telling ghost stories around my own permaculture estate, where we are all home, where we are all welcome. I want to still put my feet behind my head when I’m 103. I want to be responsible for a lighthearted legacy stretching down many generations. Its big work. Its already begun.

And to keep it happening, my keto stick must read purple tomorrow.

— — — —

Thank you for reading. This juice fasting blog is dedicated to the memories of my two dead children, JP (born 5/19/2010) and LP (born 8/27/2015). I offer these writings as my personal motherly insight and inspiration to you, and I hope it nourishes you on your own personal journey. Open discussion is welcome and encouraged here. What, big or small, has this post inspired in you? Your thoughtywords complete this story.

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