The Hot Zone: "Auto-matic" Health and Wisdom

My cars have always been my literal vehicles; messengers for what's happening in my life. In this moment of release and regeneration, my aging Toyota Corolla shared some visceral wisdom as we headed to Mt. Shasta, the world-renowned spiritual vortex located at the northernmost tip of California.

Just 20 miles from town, in 100+ degree heat, traffic slowed to a crawl due to road construction (they've been working on this highway every time I've visited the area!) My car's temperature gauge veered dangerously toward the red zone. Once we started moving again, however, I assumed it would be fine.

By the time I got into Shasta, summited the mountain (a drive of some ten additional miles, to approximately 6500 feet—the road continues; this is where I chose to camp), and parked, my anti-freeze actually boiled over onto the ground for a good five minutes. I'd never seen anything like this before.

The mechanic I consulted (as well as my own mechanic, whom I phoned) thought it might be the thermostat, which made sense: I've been feeling rather overheated, decided I needed to take better care of my adrenals and triple warmer meridian. As an added safety measure, a man I met in town offered to remove the old thermostat, since the mechanic wouldn't be able to work on my car until Monday (this was Friday afternoon).

BUT!

It turns out the thermostat was fine; the problem was old debris clogging the radiator, preventing the cooling system from working efficiently. Of course! Toxic grunge needs to be released in order to receive the new; this is a time of major detox, and what better place to clear out the old than on a sacred mountain? And in the process, we removed a perfectly healthy "organ" (something Western medicine often does, too). I figured the thermostat was akin to tonsils—not essential, but nonetheless, there for a reason.

What an incredible teaching. Thanks, best little car in the world! (Working perfectly, now).