What My Guinea Pigs Taught Me: Part One

My Learning Curve

Back when I was a teenager living at home on my parent’s farm I had a cute white and ginger guinea pig, but it didn’t do much other than eat all day and pee on me when I hugged it. Thankfully my more recent guinea pigs didn’t pee on me when I hugged them, because they were human guinea pigs. Twenty of them were instrumental in me completing the case study requirement of my Biofield Tuning* (or BT for short) qualification and the following notes are some of my more interesting and sometimes bizarre findings.

In part one I describe my own learning curve as I go from student to practitioner, in part two I share some surprising things I find in people’s biofields and chakras and in part three, I share my guinea pig’s experiences and feedback. 

PART ONE

Cleared of equipment, I thought my photography studio made a pretty decent energy therapy room, complete with a new massage table, framed certificate, fairy lights and essential oil burner. My first guinea pig was from out of town, so I felt extra pressure to perform because a do-over was not an option. I guess it was Murphy’s Law that things didn’t go quite as planned…

The Biofield

A large part of a BT session is dedicated to ‘combing’ a client’s biofield with an activated tuning fork. The biofield is the area around the body that stores a record of our memories and emotions, much like a computer’s hard drive records bytes of data. As students, we’re taught to start by finding the outside edge of the field about 5-6 feet away from the body and work our way towards the body. What didn’tcome up in the workshop was what to do if you couldn’t find the edge of a client’s field, which is exactly what happened to me. Without knowing where the edge of the field is, it’s impossible to create a timeline and relate your findings to your client’s life events. 

As I hunted and hunted for the edge of my first client’s biofield, I tried to keep myself calm and focused, but I could feel my rising panic. It was a huge effort to maintain my concentration and not be distracting by the prospect of failure. I was about to give up (something really I hate doing) when an idea popped into my head; I should try not trying so hard. It was a weird idea, but since I didn’t have any others, I surrendered to it. As I did an even weirder thing happened, I relaxed, went a bit floaty and there was a shift, as if all my senses woke up. The edge of my client’s biofield revealed itself to me and I was underway. I acknowledged the Source of my inspiration with a quiet thank you. 

Since then, I’ve discovered that some people’s edges are subtle and some aren’t. Some people’s fields are lop-sided and some people’s fields are bigger than others. 

But by far the biggest lesson I learned from that first session was that its far better to unclench and surrender to Divine guidance than it is to focus on one’s own ego, which shuts down empathy and intuition.

Finding Static 

Static are areas in the field where the tuning fork gets more vibrate-y and can range in vibrate-y-ness from subtle to feeling like you’ve gone from driving your car along new asphalt to hitting a patch of gravel. These static areas are clusters of energy that correspond to emotional events in the client’s life. The more vibrate-y the static, the more intense the events seem to be, for example: relationship breakups, sexual abuse, physical abuse, parents separating, difficult births and accidents and operations where scar tissue or brain trauma resulted. The more subtle static areas seem to relate to events like: starting school, sibling’s births, puberty, starting a new job and moving house. 

The Music Of The Forks

Unfortunately the building where the BT workshop was held did not have very good acoustics, which made it difficult for us students to hear our individual tuning forks clearly. Now that I was practicing in a quiet room at home, I was amazed at how dramatic the fork’s pitch, tone and volume changed when it encountered different qualities of energy in the biofield.

Listening to the ‘music’ of the forks is a lot like listening to the soundtrack of a client’s life story; it informs you about what’s going on in their narrative through the universal language of music. I believe the reason why music is called a universal language is because we carry the same emotional spectrum in the form of vibrations our bodies and our biofields, which is why sad music makes us feel sad and happy music makes us feel happy. 

Silence Has Different Qualities Too

Even when I can’t feel any static through the tuning fork or hear any changes in their music, I can still sense the presence of emotional events. It’s a type of knowing that comes from intuition, like when you walk into a room after people have been arguing and you feel the ‘tension in the air,' or how you sense the difference between peaceful tranquility and an eerie silence. I have come to the conclusion that many of the eerily quiet patches in my client’s biofield are actually energy drains… but more on that in part two.

Learning A New Language

Sometimes, just like when I’m watching an actual movie, tears will roll down my face when I am tuning a client and I will take on their emotions for a moment before releasing them. Often when my clients see me crying for the first time they will feel responsible for causing upset and apologise. I reassure them that I’m not actually upset, it’s just my body’s way of interpreting the emotional record of events I’m finding in their biofield. When understood and developed this spontaneous physical empathy is one of the more useful traits of being a HSP (highly sensitive person), because of its ability to accuracy pinpoint a specific emotion, evaluate its intensity and let a client know that their emotions have been acknowledged. With practice, I found I was able to combine this sensitivity, my intuition and my interpretation of the fork’s music and static to translate the language of energy to my clients, allowing them to retrieve a memory and let go of the emotions that block them.

After A Session

Giving other people tune-ups has helped me stay happy and healthy too. I used to suffer from debilitation migraines every month, but since I started giving tuning sessions, they are a lot less frequent and their intensity has diminished substantially. If I have a headache before I start a session, it disappears soon after I do my intention-setting mantra and activate the weighted forks during the opening sequence.

After an emotionally intense session my client’s often ask me if I feel exhausted and in need of a lie down afterward. To their surprise (and mine) I don’t at all. In fact I feel really, really good. After a tuning session I’m usually full of energy and need to do some gardening to burn it off. I attribute this to sound’s ability to increase lymph, blood and oxygen flow. Tuning has also helped reduce water retention, which is particularly bad just before my period starts and my PMS symptoms (which were once horrendous) are now almost non-existent.

By far the most profound benefit sound tuning has had for me is the sense of peace and clarity it brings. I used to harbour a lot of anger and resentment, which occasionally would involuntarily erupt out of me in the direction of anyone who was less than constructive with their criticism. Since becoming a sound tuner, I am much calmer, relaxed, loving, rational, intuitive and creative. The knowledge I have accumulated about energy and its role in the transformation of consciousness has changed the very paradigm by which I live my life. Instead of living a life based on fear and scarcity, I now believe wholeheartedly in FAITH AND ABUNDANCE.