Secrets of Your Cells: Discovering Your Body's Inner Intelligence

276 Pages·2013·3.14 MB·English

Secrets of Your
CELLS
Discovering Your Body’s Inner Intelligence
Sondra Barrett, PhD
To Alvaro and Paulo, who wanted to see
and know what was inside, and whose lives
helped illuminate my sacred path
and
to my children, Ted and Heather,
who illuminate my heart and soul,
filling me with love
The best way I have to honor God
is to understand the secrets of Nature.
— DR. MICHIO KAKU theoretical physicist
Contents
Illustrations
Preface
Introduction
Chapter 1 Sanctuary–Embrace
Chapter 2 I AM–Recognize
Chapter 3 Receptivity–Listen
Chapter 4 The Fabric of Life–Choose
Chapter 5 Energy–Sustain
Chapter 6 Purpose–Create
Chapter 7 Memory–Learn
Chapter 8 Wisdom Keepers–Reflect
Chapter 9 Connection–Cell-ebrate
Acknowledgments
Appendix 1 Energy Mapping Graph
Appendix 2 Qigong Body Prayer Series
Notes
References
Suggested Reading
Index
About the Author
Other Works by Sondra Barrett
About Sounds True
Copyright
Illustrations
Figures
P.1Living human myeloid leukemia cells
P.2“DNA” pictograph at Palakti Ruins
1.1Cell container
1.2Two neurons
1.3Human red blood cells
1.4Scavenger white blood cells moving toward plastic beads
1.5The basic architecture of a cell
2.1Cell as self, “me”
2.2Cell as other, “not me”
2.3Red blood cell types
3.1Diagram of cell with self markers (triangles) and different receptors (the
other shapes)
4.1Spiderweb illustrating a similar design as the cellular cytoskeleton
4.2Buckminster Fuller’s geodesic dome, Toronto, Canada
4.3Tensegrity (cytoskeleton) in actual cell
4.4A drawing of the cytoskeleton fabric
4.5Two centrioles; notice the regular structure of nine sets of three
microtubules
5.1Mitochondrion
5.2ATP and its high-energy bonds
5.3Energy graph with sample data
6.1Photomicrograph of DNA from calf thymus
6.2Forty-six human chromosomes with the telomeres appearing as bright
dots at the ends of each chromosome
6.3Spiraling DNA
6.4The eight trigrams that are part of the I Ching
8.1Spiral Galaxy M81
8.2Many things grow in spirals, like plants, some seashells, and galaxies
8.3Hindu Sri Yantra
Color Plates
1.First cell photograph: Human white blood cell recognizing and
discovering smaller cells from another species
2.Vitamin B12
3.a. Earth, round, feminine—
calcium phosphate associated with Capricorn
b. Water, fluid, feminine—
calcium fluoride associated with Cancer
c. Air, linear, masculine—
sodium phosphate associated with Libra
d. Fire, illumination, spirit, masculine—
silica associated with Sagittarius
4.Medicine wheel pictograph
5.Computer graphic of DNA
6.Sucrose, sweet taste
7.Malic acid, sour taste
8.Adrenaline
9.Caffeine, bitter taste
10.The molecule ATP—adenosine triphosphate
11.Creatine Phosphate—stores energy in our cells
Preface
Everyone who is seriously involved in the pursuit of science
becomes convinced that a spirit is manifest in the laws of the
universe—a spirit vastly superior to that of man.
— ALBERT EINSTEIN
T
he voyage that led me to bridge the realm of the biological cell with the realm
of the soul was a trek that required the repeated breakdown of my ego and
beliefs. It began more than forty years ago when I obtained a PhD in
biochemistry. Back then, I was intrigued by the chemicals of life. They were
identifiable, objective, and quantifiable; plus, I believed that if we could locate
chemical abnormalities, we could fix anything in the human body. Later I
pursued immunology and hematology, which took me into the cellular universe.
As I explored cells under the microscope, my experience became more than
cerebral—I was enchanted by what I was seeing. I began photographing that
magical microscopic world of living human cells (see plate 1 in the color insert
for my first photograph).
While the world of cells captivated me in a mysterious way I didn’t yet fully
understand, I was very much in an intellectual mode. I thought that unless
something could be measured and proven, it wasn’t real. It was an illusion—if
not a delusion. In my mind, analysis and statistics told the true story; there could
be no ambivalence about the conclusions. However, the more experience I
gained through my research, the more cracks appeared in my rigidly held
convictions. I saw people die who “shouldn’t have” according to their biological
measurements. I met children with aggressive leukemia cells (cancer of the
blood) who contradicted the predicted course of their disease and were living
much longer than they “should have.” People didn’t fit so nicely into statistical
categories and prognostications. They couldn’t be easily measured like a test
tube of defined chemicals.
One eighty-four-year-old woman, Marjorie, with acute leukemia stopped
responding to chemotherapy. Her doctors gave her just a few months to live.
Marjorie, however, had other plans: a grandchild was graduating from college
and her sixtieth wedding anniversary was coming up. She needed to stay alive
for these events. And she did—without chemo. In fact, she remained with the
important people in her life for two more years.
This made no sense to me. I was stymied. What kept her alive? My shell
opened just enough to realize that healing, life, and death could not be placed
simply into an analytical framework, and I could no longer depend solely on the
comfort of scientific measurement and predictability.
Then the father of a boy with leukemia asked me to photograph his son’s
cancer cells to aid in a visualization practice. The boy would imagine each
healing cell as a kind of Pac-Man who sought out and destroyed the cancer cells
just as it ate pellets in the arcade game. This was a time when visualization and
imagery were found only at the fringes of mainstream medicine, but the concept
took hold in my imagination. I thought that if kids could see what healthy cells
looked like—and those cells were bigger and stronger than the cancer cells—
they might be able to use their minds to heal their bodies. Sometimes I would
suggest that they imagine their cancer cells as dust and their healing system a
vacuum cleaner.
Soon I began giving weekly “inner space” slideshows at the clinic. I simply
pointed out healthy and abnormal cells and what the molecules were—with no
further explanation. It became clear to me that to the children it didn’t matter
what these images meant to a scientist. There was something inherent in them
that people of all ages enjoyed and that many experienced as transformative.
I formed a special bond with a five-year-old boy named Alvaro, who asked to
see the slides over and over again. I sometimes invited him and his sister to share
the weekend with me and my children, and we would sit together and draw cells
or go to the park. Then suddenly, Alvaro began to go downhill after being in
remission for more than a year. His speech faltered and walking became
difficult. What could I do for him now?
I remembered learning a Gestalt psychology strategy in my own therapy
sessions to express difficult feelings (hitting a pillow, yelling) and was inspired
to try it with Alvaro. I asked if something was upsetting him and was surprised
when he immediately answered that he was really angry at his stepfather. He told
me he believed his real dad had been pushed out of the home by this man. In my
innocence—untrained as a Gestalt therapist—I told him to show how angry he
was by pounding on the sofa. He didn’t hesitate and beat on the sofa pillows for
quite some time.
A few days later, Alvaro began to improve. While it could have been the new
meds he had been given that caused the change, to me, it seemed a miracle. I
could no longer be certain that it was only the medication that turned his disease
process around. This marked another major turning point in my thinking and
beliefs about medicine. It was at this time, fearing Alvaro’s death, that I sought
the help of a clinical psychologist. During my first therapy appointment, the
psychologist lit some sage to purify the space, something I had never
experienced before. I immediately felt more clarity and relaxation than I had in a
long time. It was clear that this man was more than meets the eye—he was, in
fact, a shaman. He brought me to a deep place of trust, and I knew I needed his
guidance in the big issues I was struggling with, which my scientific training
offered no context for. I saw him as a therapist for several years before I
committed to a year-long shamanic apprenticeship.
My work with this shaman was a true turning point. He helped me reframe my
concepts about what healing is and the mental and spiritual dimensions that
foster it. By going deep into my own healing journey, I began to explore my own
role as a healer. During that potent apprenticeship year, I made my lifelong
aspiration to bridge science and spirit in the healing process.
In the lab, my most significant clinical research was to explore how to
recognize cellular characteristics that could lead to more accurate diagnoses and
successful treatments of leukemia. Using the microscope to distinguish cellular
identities and behaviors, I learned that white blood cells change shape and form
as they grow and mature. As their forms changed, so did what they were able to
do. Compared to the orderly and regular forms of normal cells, the expression of
leukemia cells was chaotic. Here is a photomicrograph of myeloid leukemia
cells, each having a different and abnormal shape (see figure P.1) when
compared with the regular shape of normal myeloid cells.
Figure P.1 Living human myeloid leukemia cells