Kinesiology demonstrated clearly to me that sugar was responsible for adversely affecting my adrenals.
As a person, I am flimsy and quiet, somewhat like a net curtain in a breeze, loose and vague. Well, sometimes. I can also be like a blowtorch, if focus and attention are required.
All my life, I used sugar to override the exhaustion of my energy. When people frightened or upset me, I used sugar to regroup. For all adrenal challenges — fear, discouragement, weariness, timidity, shock, threat — I used sugar.
Our the last few years, by a combination of skilful means, I have addressed this. I rarely eat sugar now. The axe that finally broke the link was frankincense, which dealt with sugar's addictive power. It arrested the Sugar Demon. I was very grateful.
In the process, I uncovered an absolute morass of buried emotions stuck in the tissues of my body. Little by little I have been releasing them into the wild. As a result I am calmer and more effective.
But once the Sugar Demon was laid to rest, I discovered something that both did and didn't surprise me. The Buying Demon and the Sugar Demon are close relatives. Well, you knew this and so did I. We read of "retail therapy" and "compulsive spending" and "consumer society"; but knowing something intellectually and hypothetically is entirely different from looking it in the face inside your own soul so that you can delineate its features and read the look in its eyes.
I began to be able to intercept myself trying to patch an inner pain by purchasing something nice. The Sugar Demon makes that worse, of course. Because the Sugar Demon doesn't say, "Eat sugar now"; it says, "Ooh, wouldn't it be fun to have a party?" or "Gosh, it's ages since we went out for afternoon tea!" It represents its desires as fun or relational or happy. It keeps quiet about the crash and the tiredness and the gradually ebbing of energy until bed is the only option, chronically.
So if the Sugar Demon has its wicked way, whooshing a person along on its roller-coaster rides, purchases are often part of the reckless and headlong careering.
I have found that, like the voracious seagulls that queue behind the crows to steal their food, the Buying Demon stands invisibly behind the Sugar Demon. It is what Taoists call the Second Mountain. You see a mountain in the distance that is your mountain to climb. You set out on your journey, and you climb the mountain. Only when you have conquered the ascent and stand at the summit do you see the second mountain, hidden by the first. And that's the mountain you have to climb.
The pursuit of simplicity is a walk through many hills.