The Break up

Covid had paralyzed the world by the time I decided to carve a piece of me out. I rewired my mindset which was hard set against any kind of medical intervention up until then. I was able to do so by giving value to everything I did up until that point. No, I wasn’t able to dissolve my tumour but I’d found the exact cause of my cancer and became a more authentic version of myself along the way.

Did I have to starve myself on grapes for 33 days, do the hard core Cold Sheet Treatment, undergo garlic enemas, endure Vipassana, write forgiveness letters, eat raw food, drink wheatgrass, pummel handfuls of herbs and supplements, take cold showers, wrap myself in castor oil, surrender my business and revisit every trauma I’ve had in my life only to cut out the problem after 7 months? Absolutely!

Even amidst the greatest challenge of my life, my new way of living lights up my soul. From that light I navigated my way. Healing came from the journey itself and it wasn’t just about Lump. I was no longer the same person I was before, it was evident in how I perceived life. Cancer sparked my spirit and revealed the sacredness of life. There’s no right or wrong way to go about it as long as I’m being true to myself. I paid attention to cues that came from a greater knowing and that’s how I chose to heal.

Hospitals had emptied in preparation for the pandemic to hit full throttle. Normal living became restricted and the “New Normal” became the norm. Faces disappeared behind masks, schools and businesses were shut down, and we were told to distance ourselves from everybody to stay “safe”. “Safety” became the slogan for every new rule and restriction.

I kept the virus from Wuhan on the outskirts of my periphery. My experience taught me that the thoughts that fill my head shapes my reality. It was imperative to keep my mindspace in a state that supported my wellbeing. The world went topsy turvy, so did my plan for surgery. I heard no word from the surgeons office so, I took it as a sign that it was not yet time to part ways with Lump.

I directed my focus to study German New Medicine. I marvelled, learning about the genius mechanism which makes up our biological system. Understanding that the body is always healing even when symptoms feel quite the opposite, reinforced trust in my body. My job was to assist it with this new understanding- to make sure I didn’t get hung up on the storyline that caused my body to do what it did. It was empowering to not be afraid of my tumour.

On April 20, 2020, In a particularly deep meditation I lovingly cut ties with my lump. It was a conscious uncoupling after an intense relationship which revealed aspects of myself that I now cherish. My heart was so vastly open- abundant with gratitude for the gifts that I’d received. I felt such a deep sense of peace in claiming this goodbye. I asked for a clear sign that my proclamation was heard by Supreme Intelligence.

I hadn’t received one call in regards to my surgery in 6 weeks. Sensing that my meditation was over I slowly opened my eyes- in that exact moment my phone rang. It was the surgeons office informing me that my surgery would be on April 27th. Stunned by the instant confirmation I wept in gratitude.


I Got My Why

(Pls read my previous post about GNM/GHK as a precursor to this one. Since the last post, I have discovered that there has been a name change from German New Medicine to Germanische Heilkunde which means Germanic Healing Knowledge. In this post I will be using the abbreviation GHK to reference this biological science.)

How German New Medicine revealed the meaning of my cancer so I could heal.
By Maasa Craig edited by Pathways Magazine

[Quote from Caroline Markolin]
When I received news of a ductal carcinoma on the periphery of my right breast, I put
on my detective hat and worked backwards from my “know” to my “why” with help from
a Germanic Healing Knowledge (GHK, or GNM) practitioner.
GHK’s process of ascertaining the precise conflict that initiates a particular cancer
process is based on biological science and embryology. Dr. Hamer, the pioneer
discoverer, found that different conflict shocks impact different brain relays, each
adapting a corresponding organ. The organ will change, or adapt, with cell-multiplication
or cell-ulceration depending on the embryological germ cells that compose the tissues.
For example, organs composed of endodermal cells such as the intestines, will respond
with cell multiplication. Most importantly, each organ and germ layer responds only to a
specific “kind” of conflict shock that applies to that organ’s function.
Using this knowledge as a map, the exact organ and symptom will tell us what “type” of
conflict shock occurred, and where the biological program is, in regards to the tissue-
adaptation process. Often, the symptom we have indicates that the organ is in a healing
phase, after the conflict is resolved.

Here’s what I discovered

Ductal “carcinoma” is the healing process, or tissue-replenishment phase, after a
separation conflict that had caused the ductal tissues to ulcerate. We experience this
conflict, for example, when a loved one is “torn from the breast” through an unexpected
ending of a relationship. It can also occur if we suddenly want to separate from a
relationship due to a conflict involving betrayal, fighting, abuse, etc. The purpose of the
ulcerations is to widen the ductal passageways—relating to a primitive nourishment
response in the breast. After the conflict is over, an internal swelling occurs, sometimes
seen as a tumor (it’s more akin to an internal swollen “scab” designed to heal the ductal

For many organs, including the breast ducts, our handedness (or dominant laterality)
will determine which side of the body gets affected. Conflict shocks that center around a
“partner” will affect the dominant side (for me that’s my right side). And if the conflict centers around a “mother or child,” it will affect the opposite, non-dominant side. Since
the cell-replenishment, swelling, and “tumor” was on my right side, and I’m right handed,
my first clue was that the conflict had nothing to do with my mother or daughter. Instead,
it had to do with a partner, colleague, or friend.

I also learned that the moment I experienced this conflict, concentric circles appeared
as lesions on the left side of my cerebral cortex (sensory cortex to be exact) because
the right breast is controlled from the left sensory cortex of the brain. What piqued my
interest is how the “psyche”—our innate survival knowledge below the level of our
awareness—related to the conflict. This is of utmost importance for the detective work
and for healing. GHK is not only a healing science, it is a process to get intimate with
your inner workings.

For myself, it was vitally important for me to pinpoint the exact conflict shock that
caused the whole process to unfold. I believed that understanding why my body was
doing what it was doing would be the key to assist my body to homeostasis.

Finding my Why

“I want you to think of an incident that made you feel like someone was ripped from your
breast. This person did something that shocked you,” the GNM consultant said to me
during our session.

I’d spent 7 months cleaning out my proverbial closet and releasing my can of worms. I
scanned through my major traumas that I made peace with, but none fit the bill. I went
through my memory catalog unsure of what I was looking for…until I found it. And it hit
me like a ton of bricks; so much so that I had to catch my breath, my heart stilled, and
the blood drained from my face.

“Yup, that’s the reaction we get when people discover their DHS. They just know it,” she
said. (Note: DHS is the term denoting the moment in time the biological shock occurred)

How did I leave this giant worm buried at the bottom of my can? I’d literally dealt with
everything else except for this one! That’s how deeply my subconscious packed it away.
The GNM practitioner asked me, “Looking at the size of your tumour, I’d guess this
conflict lasted for about 3 months?”

Stunned, I nodded my head.

As I write this, I’m amazed at how I’ve grown. I had the ability to pick up the worm and
hold it in my gentle hand. I was able to look at it without my entire system going berserk.
I saw a creature made of the earth with its own story and place in the world. I was able
to get intimate with it from a place of closure. I wasn’t a victim.

My story

Everything in me told me not to hire Sam. Living in a small town, I was well aware of her
history with past employers. My gut twisted as she handed me her resume, looked me
in the eyes, and promised me she wouldn’t let me down. My spa was in full swing and I
desperately needed another esthetician. I’d worked with her in the past, in another spa
and the same aversion I felt for her then resurfaced. Instead of shutting her out, I invited
her in—deciding to take the high road. And so I hired her.

I used my uncertainty as fuel to overcome my judgment toward her. After all, she never
did anything to me directly. I wanted to be a better person and give her the benefit of the
doubt. I was growing as a business owner and saw it as an opportunity to grow as a
person as well. My strategy was to give her love. It was obvious that she came from a
troubled past and lived a rough life from the little she shared with me. She had great
skills and clients were happy with her service, so I held fast to that. I allowed my
mothering instinct to take over and as a result she opened up to me as I did to her.

Did I do the right thing? It’s only in looking back from where I’m now that I know for
certain that I did, because this biological program was a catalyst for my evolution. After
a couple months of employment she started to call in sick for personal reasons. I picked
up where she left me and rearranged my schedule to cover her shifts. It happened
enough times that the knot in my stomach turned into chronic acid reflux. In late
November, I ended up in Emergency at the hospital with my guts feeling like it was
ripping out from the inside.

Knowing GHK more now, I understand what I had then was an “indigestible anger
conflict”—a situation I couldn’t digest which caused my stomach lining to ulcerate with
pain. (Note: In the lining of the stomach, ulcerations cause symptoms of pain because
the stomach is wired to the post-sensory cortex of the brain, unlike other parts of the
body, such as the breast ducts, which are wired to the sensory cortex where there is no
noticeable pain during conflict-active ulcerations.)

I just didn’t know how to deal with Sam’s unpredictable nature. I couldn’t fire her with the
busy season coming up and potentially lose her clients. I was stuck in a rock and hard
place, doing my best to accommodate 9 staff members in the midst of my turmoil. My
core crew was a solid group of skilled women who helped me grow my business. It was
my priority to treat them well in a business where staff typically came and went. She
was the new addition, and it was obvious she didn’t quite fit in.

Sam approached me one day wanting to report something of importance out of loyalty
for me and my business. She proceeded to tell me that an employee of mine disclosed
information about my business to a competitive spa in hopes of retaining a position.

What this employee apparently shared was sensitive information which put me in a
precarious position.

The news came straight from left field. I was shocked that any staff member would do
such a thing after working closely with them for several years. I was devastated and
confused. I won’t get into the tedious drama of the event. What I discovered, however,
was that Sam, who I took in against my better judgment, had fabricated the whole story,
with fake texts and emails to try and get my lovely employee fired.

Why would anyone make up such a story? The whole situation mangled me mentally
and rippled out into work. I couldn’t deny the strong intuition that something was very
wrong—even with the apparent evidence at hand. I started digging for the truth. To my
horror, I discovered that there are apps to make emails and texts look like they’re
coming from someone when they’re not. The evidence that Sam showed me to frame
my other employee was all made up. Not only was the story fabricated with documents
to support it, Sam was the one who was trying to jump ship.

As I put the pieces together, I felt sick to my stomach. Expensive items had
mysteriously disappeared from the spa around that time. It didn’t even cross my mind to
think that an employee would steal from me. (I can never prove it, but my gut knew.) I
felt totally betrayed after opening my heart to her and a fool for overriding my intuition to
not hire her. Upon her immediate termination, I received official looking emails from her
lawyer stating that she was suing me for wrongful dismissal. I knew she had the ability
to make fraudulent documents to serve her purpose, but I had no way to know if they
were for real or not.

Email demands for compensation came in regularly, so much so that I was afraid to
open my email. My heart constantly raced, haunted by the worst case scenarios. I
struggled to keep the high pace required to run my business and my home life. What if I
lose my business after everything I put into it? What if I have to go to court? What if she
shows up at my house and does something crazy? My sleep was disturbed with cold
sweats and nightmares…physical symptoms of a “conflict active phase.” The emails
went on. The conflict continued.

Why would she do this?


It took about 3 months of me being in emergency mode to finally let it go. I accepted
that I may have to go to court, that I may have to hire a lawyer, and that I may lose the
spa over the whole ugly process. I was just breaking even with my new business. The
cost of going to court would flush all my hard work down the toilet.

In an attempt to find closure, I even went as far as accepting the crazy event as an act
of love. Didn’t she say she was doing it because she cared for me? Maybe the
hardships in her life made her show her love in a twisted way. If that’s the case, doesn’t
she deserve compassion? I moved on and resolved my conflict. I must have buried her
deep in my subconscious, because when she resurfaced, I could not for the life of me
remember her name!

After those 3 months, my conflict was resolved, and that’s when my healing phase
began. New cells came in to replenish the area where there was prior tissue loss,
accompanied with swelling. During those 3 months of conflict activity, my brain was
impacted, and the corresponding organ—the milk ducts—ulcerated in proportion to the
duration and intensity of “wanting to separate” from her. The biological purpose for the
inner lining of milk ducts to ulcerate and lose cells is to widen the ducts for easier milk
flow—a primitive mothering response. Though by the time I resolved the issue I
understood there was no need to nurture this person anymore with my metaphorical

The healing phase of cell proliferation and swelling was diagnosed as a ductal
carcinoma, and deemed to be “abnormal cell activity.” The growth of these particular
cells do act differently from normal cells, since they are the body’s way of healing the
ulcerated tissue.

Blessed by life

The nail hit hard right on the head and drove straight down unwavering. My why was
finally answered. Learning more about GNM, it made sense that the reason my tumour
only grew by two millimeters in six months was because the cells only proliferate in
proportion to the duration and intensity of the prior conflict. And because my conflict was
never reactivated, it was done proliferating.

Everything I did since my diagnosis was a meaningful stepping stone to finding my why.
I was elated to know that healing was already well underway by the time I discovered
the lump. Truth rings like a bell. It rings so clear that the reverberation dissolves all the
gunk out of the way. My mind was blown into pieces and put back together again to
form a clear picture. Everything I was learning from GNM reflected what I intrinsically
knew all along.


“YES” Acrylic on canvas by Maasa

The Abduction

Sept 20, 2019

We are walking into a decrepit building.  Why would a prominent surgeon choose to rent an office in such a depressing space? We are sitting on aluminum framed chairs with thin, black, pleather seats, waiting to be called in. There is an invisible space that’s wedged between us from the argument in the truck. He’s holding my hand but I can’t feel him. We are called into the office around the corner.

The redeeming feature of this building is the large window overlooking the Columbia River in the surgeons office. I am distracted by the rushing waters while the surgeon introduces himself.

He is a bespectacled, brainy looking man that describes what he is talking about by drawing diagrams. He is removing various parts of my womanhood on paper.

I’ve suddenly landed on an alien spaceship. I’m strapped down to a metal table looking up into enormous, inky, almond, eyes. Tall, lanky, grey, aliens with tiny slit mouths holding scalpels. High tech machines are looming over me with bright lights offensively illuminating my naked body. Terror makes its grand entrance colliding into me.

I teleport back as the surgeon pulls out another sheet of blank paper to draw out my “best case scenario”; a Lumpectomy with Radiation. “You see in this case, we can remove the clip when we go in there.” he says. “What? What Clip?”, I ask. “The titanium clip that was inserted when you got your biopsy.” I did get fucking abducted! They implanted something inside me!

I try to keep my cool as I tell him that I was not informed, nor did I give my consent to embed a foreign object inside me. He says that they don’t need my consent. There is liquid lava bubbling in my belly and heat is rising to my face. Deep breath in, long breath out… “why did they put the clip in there?” “Well, when you insert a needle to get a sample of the mass, it creates a pathway for the cancer cells to potentially spread. We put a clip in there as a locator so when we do the surgery, we can make sure to get clear margins to remove the tumour and the pathway that may be compromised.”

This information of risk was not disclosed to me at the time of the procedure. Was it assumed that I would get the surgery right from the get go? Do I have any say in this? I feel violated, the little bit of faith I have in Allopathic medicine dissipates into molten lava.

Reality sets in like a left hook by a Southpaw. I want to vomit. I want to escape. I want to press the reset button and reclaim my life as my own. I become the ghost of my optimism. Al is pale… trying to contain the enormity of what we must face.  On the drive home, I let him crush my fingers because he needs to hold onto me. I try to lighten the mood by saying, “Good thing I’m going to the Bahamas tomorrow, better get packing!” He shakes his head like a bobble head.