#cellular memory

What Our Ancestors Knew About Memory Long before Western science developed laboratories and microscopes, our ancestors understood something profound: memory lives in the body. Elders carried the accumulated wisdom of generations not only in stories, but in the very cells of their being. Healers knew that trauma could be inherited — and so could resilience. The body, they taught us, remembers…

After releasing negative energy and obsolete programs during a energy healing session, please make sure the cellular memory is cleared as well, as it helps prevent issues from returning.

Science has provided supporting evidence, for example:

'Fat cells have excellent memory. Researchers published a study in Nature that explains how that memory works and why it is so persistent. The work describes the genetic and cellular mechanisms that make the "Yo-Yo effect," a common phenomenon where a person can lose weight, but it returns right away.

...

The core of why fat cells are so stubborn comes down to epigenetics — a relatively new area of study that shows how long-ago events, experiences, or environmental exposures can affect a person’s genetic information. For example, research has shown that someone who survived trauma as a child — say abuse or neglect — will suffer long-lasting changes to their DNA, which, in turn can affect cells, potentially manifesting as diseases or chronic conditions. These genetic changes can even be passed on through the generations.'

                                         cosmic memory                             ancestors dance through our lives                                         igniting godhead

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When we have this breakthrough, it can be liberating, and this liberation energy allows us to understand the growth on the horizon. 

Kara is aging, albeit glacially slow. They just don’t celebrate her birthday anymore. She misses the cakes, she won’t lie, and Alex’s gag gifts, but birthdays were never a thing on Krypton anyway. Her people rather focused on the milestones of a life. The day a child was judged mature enough to choose their guild. The end of their apprenticeship. The first time a Kryptonian went off-world. The moment the creation matrix matched them to another, so that they could further their line.

In a way, she’s going back to her roots.

Kara’s okay with that.

***

With college being so busy, immortality is easier to forget. Somehow, it’s also harder to ignore, especially after Leslie.

Kara doesn’t mean for them to become close, she’s not even sure about the how.

It happens, though. Leslie kisses her and they fall in bed together, and Kara’s not able to stop it. She will reason with herself later, with Leslie’s question ringing in her ears (do you want to go on a date with me, Kara?), that it’s natural to crave the normalcy of going to class while holding hands. The want for the thrill of secrets whispered against a pillow in the dark. Taking each other’s clothes off, hands roaming unhurried.

To get lost in the sounds Leslie makes, in her scent, when Kara kisses at the crux of her thighs — doesn't she deserve that?

They’re together for an entire semester, the happiest seventeen weeks of Kara’s life this far, except perhaps for the month-long high of mastering flight. Leslie is nice. Caring, if a bit bossy. Kara doesn’t mind letting her lead. One night over drinks, their small circle of friends starts to tease them about marriage, about the life that they could have together after their college years are done.

“All I’m saying is— is—” They’re well past the third round, which means Siobhan sounds a little slurred, and Leslie get more than a little handsy. “Shit, everybody knows that if a couple lasts this long in college they end up married.” Kara makes a face, and Siobhan shrugs. raising both hands. “Look, it’s the rules.”

Kara laughs it off. Leslie doesn’t, though.

Leslie doesn’t and that’s enough to remind Kara she can’t have this. Even if it made Leslie happy to get married, maybe to have kids, Kara can’t go through with it, not when the knowledge she’s going to outlive them all bears down on her shoulders with the weight of a slab of concrete.

Kara breaks it off with Leslie later that night, telling herself that the fact she at least waited until everyone had left means she’s marginally less of an asshole.

***

Getting close to girls is dangerous for her, Kara decides.

Girls love softly. They love with their whole heart, and deeply from the start. Everything about loving girls is pure euphoria, a marching battalion of butterflies in the pit of Kara’s stomach.

It is the kind of love found inside books or seen in movies, star-crossed and meant to be. The sort that makes her want to dance and sing and stop strangers on the street to tell them how truly in love she is. More than once Kara catches herself thinking that immortality is not so big an obstacle for such a love as this.

With boys it’s not the same; Kara makes sure to seek out those who are only interested in sex. She gets a reputation. She’s easy. She sleeps around. She brings boy after boy after boy to her dorm room, sleeps with them in her cramped bed. She’s aware, although remotely, that they say unpleasant things behind her back, but doesn’t care.

The crippling loneliness gets worse, and eventually she stops sleeping with others altogether.

Getting close to people is dangerous for her, Kara amends.

She takes this new rule in stride, something she doesn’t necessarily understand but that can’t be disputed. It simply is, and Kara stores it with the other things about herself she can’t really explain. Files it next to the fact that it icks her if the veggies in her plate touch her other food, or that she can’t wear anything made out of wool since it feels like a million and one ants are walking on her skin.

Kara has found out her life is better if she doesn’t question things like these much. It’s best not to think too hard and simply follow.

It even works, for a while.

She graduates, moves to the big city, gets a job at CatCo. Kara is alone, yes, and that can be unbearable, but she is also happy.

Mostly.

Until, one day, Lena Luthor enters the picture.

Nimrod began to understand that what he was experiencing was, in spite of its appearance of novelty, something which had existed before–many times before. His body began to recognize situations, impressions, and objects. In reality, none of these astonished him very much. Faced with new circumstances, he would dip into the fount of his memory, the deep-seated memory of the body, would search blindky and feverishly, and often find ready made within himself a suitable reaction: the wisdom of generations, deposited in his plasma, in his nerves. He found actions and decisions of which he had not been aware but which had been lying in wait, ready to emerge.

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Sklepy cynamonowe (lit."Cinnamon Shops") The Street of Crocodiles - 1934

Bruno Schulz  1892-1942

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Full disclosure, Cell Memory Theory is still pretty much pseudoscience so far as I know. It’s also still something I’m absolutely fascinated with, especially after an acquaintance of mine underwent a heart transplant in March (the wife of the comic book store’s owner that I frequent every Wednesday). 

Due to recent events, and my own fascination with the subject, I thought it would be good to offer you all some information on the general theory of it, and why some people assume it may be real.

The story of Claire Sylvia is just one of multiple others. There’s a man who suddenly became artistic after his own transplant, and a girl who received a heart from someone who was murdered and had nightmares about it. 

As a subject, and as a possible way to “cheat” death a little longer by living in someone else, it is endlessly interesting.