Thieves cured my belly button

So, going back to my navel.  It got cured.  Just like that.  By thieves.  Or should I say, Thieves.

No, really.  See, I went to see this wisewoman.  A true witch, a healer, someone quite out of the ordinary, actually.  But that’s another story.  Anyhow, by the by, in passing, I told her about my infected omphalos.  

Actually I showed her.

‘Ooh,’ she said.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘Isn’t it awful?’

‘Well, it’s…not good.’

The Fortune Teller by Georges de la Tour

By this point, I should add, it was really very unpleasant indeed.  Flaming hot, with a bright red rash spreading out all over my stomach. It did cross my mind that it might start eating itself and that I’d just sort of reverse the birth process, imploding into my centre-point until nothing remained. Which would be…disconcerting for those watching.  Spontaneous implosion in slow-motion.  Is that an oxymoron?  Probably.

Anyhow.

‘I’ll  bung some Thieves in it,’ she said.

‘You what?’ I said.

‘Thieves,’ she said. ‘Haven’t you heard of it?’

And she went on to explain that, back in the mists of time, when the Black Death was doing its Grip Reaper act, there were four clever thieves.  They were opportunistic - some might say foolhardily so – as they robbed people dead or dying of the plague.  They keep themselves safe by rubbing their bodies with a secret blend of oils.  All well and good – except one got himself caught and, faced with the choice of swinging for his crimes or giving up the recipe – he spilled the beans.  And Thieves aromatherapy blend became known to the wider, non-thieving world. 

So she poured some in my belly button and I lay there, listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd, as you do when you’re being treated by a witch.  And after a bit, I got up and off I went and that was that.

The next day my navel turned an alarming shade of yellow but it had stopped throbbing and itching and burning. The day after, all the old skin just sloughed off, snake-like, and there it was, all shiny and new.  Serious. Unbelievable.  So now I have a new navel.  A fresh start?  A rebirth? Who the hell knows but it’s clever stuff, that’s all I know (cos I’d been dousing it with all sorts – both natural and unnatural and not a thing had touched it).

You can buy it.  Or you can make your own.  There are various recipes but here’s one. 

Thieves Oil Recipe

200 drops of Clove Oil (Syzgium aromaticum)
175 drops of Lemon Oil (Citrus Limon)
100 drops of Cinnamon Bark (Cinnamomum verum)
75 drops of Eucalyptus Oil (Eucalyptus radiata)
50 drops of Rosemary Oil (Rosmarinus officinalis)

Store in a dark glass container away from heat and sunlight.

Obviously you will need to dilute it before use.  Either use a carrier oil (jojoba is good) or shake it up with water and use to spritz people, places or pets.  How much? Well, as a spray, use one part Thieves to about twenty parts distilled water. Shake well and spray.  It can kill 99% of airborne bacteria apparently. 

25:1 with jojoba for a massage blend.  Or pop five drops into a teaspoon of milk and add to your bath. 

Loki steals Sif's golden hair...

But of course I didn’t leave it there.  I got to thinking about thieves; about robbers. They are outlaws, disruptive forces that break and enter, that slide through our defences.  Is that a bad thing? Sometimes, yes, of course… but not always.  Think about the divine, the mythic, the heroic burglars – Hermes, Krishna, Loki, Eve.  Creativity can be considered theft.  Think about fairy stories, where sometimes you need to steal the treasure. Sometimes you simply have to use guile to gain the prize. It’s almost alchemical – you have to break things down before you can build them back up. And you can apply that to almost anything in life – personal, political, philosophical.  Or am I thinking too much again?  J