Grandad's Barometer

My granddad used to have a barometer hanging in the hallway. It was one of those old fashioned, brass and wood affairs that looked like a mahogany banjo suspended on the wall. Along it’s stem there was a big mercury thermometer, which could not have been exercised beyond 5 degrees of it’s usual reading in the cool and gloomy hallway.

Below the thermometer in the belly of the device lay the barometer, one of those brass bellows contraptions, with a scrolled dial running from Stormy at one end to Fine at the other. A large brass pointer indicated the barometer’s best guess at the weather.

My granddad would approach the barometer, peer at the dial and tap lightly on the glass. Shaken out of it’s reverie the pointer would move this way or that and settle into it’s true position. Somehow it needed to be tapped to allow itself to move.

In some ways I think this is like EFT. Our system is out of alignment, the needle is stuck, often on Stormy or Unsettled. It needs a few judicious taps to allow the system to move this way or that and settle into it’s true position. Have you tapped on your barometer this morning?