It apparently is not done. At least not correctly, as when I try to log in, it says I don't exist - ven though I get greeted by name.
Ah well. Perhaps it's a sign from the gods.
Maybe I ought to find another way to spend my time, up here on the hill.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
It is done.
I am now a myspace-ette, URL of myspace.com/mumisananarchist, assuming sign-up worked properly.
Now if I only had friends. I don't have any actual friends, (no, that's not fair - I do have two in the flesh and one in cyberland ) so I guess I shouldn't be all shocked that I can't get the whole myspace friends deal. I'm just feelin' sorry for myself. I'll shut up and go to bed now.
Now if I only had friends. I don't have any actual friends, (no, that's not fair - I do have two in the flesh and one in cyberland ) so I guess I shouldn't be all shocked that I can't get the whole myspace friends deal. I'm just feelin' sorry for myself. I'll shut up and go to bed now.
Decisions, decisions!
How annoying. I do like my blogspot, here, but for some reason have decided that I must also have a myspace. I know, moms with a myspace are creepy. But I want one anyway! I just can't decide on a URL. I'm leaning towards myspace.com/mumisananarchist but feel, for good or ill, that I must run it by my daughter first.
"Creepy", huh? I'll show ya creepy! (Wait, maybe that proves it...)
"Creepy", huh? I'll show ya creepy! (Wait, maybe that proves it...)
Monday, July 9, 2007
Try.
I've been thinking about trying. Not trying anything in particular, just trying, as a concept. And I think it's not all it's cracked up to be.
"There is no try. Only do or not do."
I was so sure it was Lao Tzu, or maybe the Buddha. But no. My favorite Sweet Potato Queen informed me that it was, in fact, Yoda. So much for that college minor in philosophy.
But the little dude was right. "Try" doesn't exist - the only thing that's real is the result, is whether or not one performs whatever task. No one bases their activities on your "try" - they need to know if you do or don't do the thing. And generally speaking, they'd be happier if you were up front with them.
You'll "try" to be there by noon - no, that's not okay. That means you'll show up if it's convenient for you, doesn't put you out too much, and you don't run into traffic. Can you be there by noon? Good. Then make it happen. Not sure, or don't think you can? Fine. How about 12:15, then, or 12:30? The point is to decide, commit, and make it happen.
"Try" gives us an automatic out, an opportunity to cop out on whatever we were doing or offering to do. "Try" means that we have real doubt as to whether or not we'll be willing or able to pull off whatever it is, from losing weight to showing up on time to meeting financial goals. It gives us built in weasel room, and I think that makes us sloppy about commitment. We need to define what it is that we're willing to do, then commit to doing that, and follow through with integrity. Not willing to do the task at all? No problem - be honest with yourself and with others and say that.
"Try" can also take away from us the satisfaction of having completed something - if you don't define what it is you're going to do, how do you know if you've done it? "I'll try to get as much done as I can". What does that mean? Bupkis. Everything's in there, from doing absolutely nothing (say it again) to completing the work. How much better it would be to say you'd work for an hour or a page or a room or whatever, then simply do that much. Then, when you've finished the amount to which you committed , you know that you've met your goal honestly and honorably. If you want to do another hour or room or page, then you can reset the intention and new goal.
Maybe it comes down to a combination of "know thyself" and basic integrity. In each situation, we need to figure out how much, if any, we want to commit to, which means that we know we have the time, willingness and ability to perform the task. Then, state what we want to commit to, which includes "nothing" if time, ability or willingness are lacking, and follow through (that's the integrity part.)
"I'm gonna lose thirty pounds this month!" Come on, you know that's not going to happen. And "lose as much as possible" is a cop out. Decide. Ten? Good. You know you can do it. Commit to it. Then follow through. Lose the ten. You're good to your word. "I'm gonna exercise every day!" Oh sure. Just like the last ten times you said that. How about three times a week? If that feels okay, commit to it, then do it. "I won't go to bed til it's done!" then you sneak off and sack out. No honesty or integrity there. Figure out how much you can and will do, name it, do it.
You can be wrong, if it's an honest mistake - an emergency or a genuine misassessment of a situation or of your own abilities. It happens, and that's one of the ways we learn about ourselves. One caveat: don't intentionally lowball yourself, committing to an absurdly small amount in order to succeed easily. Your integrity knows when it's being undermined.
So here's the challenge: eliminate the word "try" from your speech for a week or even just a day. (Did you just say "Okay, I'll try"? I did, when I first thought about this.) I've been working at this on and off for a week now, and it's made a genuine difference. I now think before I speak (what a concept, huh?), then assess the situation, make a determination, commit to it, and follow through, whether I feel like it or not. It's been a real lesson, in many ways, but absolutely worth the time and effort.
If you want, let me know how it works for you. Maybe we can start something.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Oh, my. Crow on the menu again?
In re: Sactuary, emc2 (sorry, I don't know how to make the 2 a superscript), Max and Jennifer and the whole energy pattern/frequency adjustment/bad frequency elimination deal. If you don't know what I'm talking about, my unfortunate rant is the April 24th entry, below.
I may have spoken too soon. (Gee, like that's never happened before, right?)
John sent off his money along with his photo, and a local (within 200 miles, which is local around these parts) representative called him to answer questions and generally act as go-between. She said he'd be "on the tray" - which our over-taxed brains have begun referring to as "sleeping with the dishes" - in a few days and feeling the effects anywhere from immediately to within a few weeks.
Immediately it is. Not better, at first, but a weird constellation of effects including odd skin sensations, leg restlessness, "spaciness" and other ill-defined mental states. Then, other things began happening. He woke up yesterday morning and noticed that the nasty toenail infection he's had forever (and not been able to treat because of his liver issues) is gone. And his hands: the last year or so he's had real trouble with the ...I don't know what it's called - that big area of the hand right below the thumb, over to mid-palm. It's been very swollen and painful - the doctors said it's a combination of carpal tunnel syndrome, arthritis and general overuse. The swelling is gone. The pain is gone. The mobility and dexterity have returned. And it's just the first week.
It'll be really damned interesting to see what happens. Back pain. Liver. Who knows what else. Am I converted? Not.....necessarily. Not yet, anyway. But I do apologize for that quick judgment, that eye roll, that immediate cynicism that precludes this sort of experience.
So read the book. (Katrina - I ordered one for you - it's coming.) See what you think. I'll keep you posted.
A couple other notes:
On my unfortunate tendency to a life capsulized by the phrase "You can't make me!", it was recently pointed out to me that it's at least partly genetic. My ancestors weren't just Scottish, they were Highlanders. Island Highlanders, to be exact, and "you can't make me!" is their birthright and motto, right after "vincere vel mori" ("conquer or die.") Those same guys who painted themselves blue and spent the long Highland winters figuring out how to pick off the Vikings. Bonnie Prince Charlie. Sheep and rocks and truly bad weather. Fierce individuals for whom cooperation is largely associated with weakness. Yep, those are my people. Slainte.
On my recent lack of availability and communication, I offer the following as partial explanation (as distinct from excuse, for which there is none.) Between April 19th and now, I have driven far enough to be across the country and halfway back - four round trips to Geneseo, a trip to see my mother in Philadelhia, a concert in NJ, and a conference in Toronto (a Landmark Forum - we'll cover that another day, because there is Just So Much to talk about with that one.) I'm exhausted - beyond exhausted, really - and have been put through several emotional ringers, topped off with an immediate full body plunge into twelve-hour work days, May being the gardener's equivalent of Fashion Week. I think of you, I do, and I'll be back, sane and whole, god/dess willing, in reasonably short order. All we have to get through first is the Mother's Day Plant Sale, the Herb and Flower Festival, and a few hundred gardens and plantings and clean-ups and designs and ... somebody better do a general clean-up on the house or there won't be any sanctuary at day's end.
Which brings us back to Sanctuary. Maybe, if I order the Family Plan, it can cure me of my lack of energy, perpetual low-grade sinus infection, inner ear dizziness thing and sore feet. Stay tuned.
I may have spoken too soon. (Gee, like that's never happened before, right?)
John sent off his money along with his photo, and a local (within 200 miles, which is local around these parts) representative called him to answer questions and generally act as go-between. She said he'd be "on the tray" - which our over-taxed brains have begun referring to as "sleeping with the dishes" - in a few days and feeling the effects anywhere from immediately to within a few weeks.
Immediately it is. Not better, at first, but a weird constellation of effects including odd skin sensations, leg restlessness, "spaciness" and other ill-defined mental states. Then, other things began happening. He woke up yesterday morning and noticed that the nasty toenail infection he's had forever (and not been able to treat because of his liver issues) is gone. And his hands: the last year or so he's had real trouble with the ...I don't know what it's called - that big area of the hand right below the thumb, over to mid-palm. It's been very swollen and painful - the doctors said it's a combination of carpal tunnel syndrome, arthritis and general overuse. The swelling is gone. The pain is gone. The mobility and dexterity have returned. And it's just the first week.
It'll be really damned interesting to see what happens. Back pain. Liver. Who knows what else. Am I converted? Not.....necessarily. Not yet, anyway. But I do apologize for that quick judgment, that eye roll, that immediate cynicism that precludes this sort of experience.
So read the book. (Katrina - I ordered one for you - it's coming.) See what you think. I'll keep you posted.
A couple other notes:
On my unfortunate tendency to a life capsulized by the phrase "You can't make me!", it was recently pointed out to me that it's at least partly genetic. My ancestors weren't just Scottish, they were Highlanders. Island Highlanders, to be exact, and "you can't make me!" is their birthright and motto, right after "vincere vel mori" ("conquer or die.") Those same guys who painted themselves blue and spent the long Highland winters figuring out how to pick off the Vikings. Bonnie Prince Charlie. Sheep and rocks and truly bad weather. Fierce individuals for whom cooperation is largely associated with weakness. Yep, those are my people. Slainte.
On my recent lack of availability and communication, I offer the following as partial explanation (as distinct from excuse, for which there is none.) Between April 19th and now, I have driven far enough to be across the country and halfway back - four round trips to Geneseo, a trip to see my mother in Philadelhia, a concert in NJ, and a conference in Toronto (a Landmark Forum - we'll cover that another day, because there is Just So Much to talk about with that one.) I'm exhausted - beyond exhausted, really - and have been put through several emotional ringers, topped off with an immediate full body plunge into twelve-hour work days, May being the gardener's equivalent of Fashion Week. I think of you, I do, and I'll be back, sane and whole, god/dess willing, in reasonably short order. All we have to get through first is the Mother's Day Plant Sale, the Herb and Flower Festival, and a few hundred gardens and plantings and clean-ups and designs and ... somebody better do a general clean-up on the house or there won't be any sanctuary at day's end.
Which brings us back to Sanctuary. Maybe, if I order the Family Plan, it can cure me of my lack of energy, perpetual low-grade sinus infection, inner ear dizziness thing and sore feet. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
And more energies.
Been listening to our buddy Wayne Dyer on the CD player during the long and frequent drive to Geneseo and back. He talked about an energy healing method I'd never heard of (and I'm pretty well versed in all things fringe and woo-woo), so I ducked into the bookstore in Geneseo to hunt up the reference:
http://www.amazon.com/Sanctuary-Path-Consciousness-Stephen-Lewis/dp/1561708453
Despite much help from a bookstore guy who looked like he'd spent too many hours in the hallucinogenic plants section, no book was forthcoming. Not wanting to have to cope once again with the inexorable slowness of the accursed Media Mail, I popped into a Barnes and Noble on the way home and paid full price *shudder* for a copy. John read it in one sitting and is all set to have an energy frequency adjustment or whatever the hell it's called.
Okay, maybe it's my Scots blood, but I have a little trouble with just sending a check (and a not insignificant one at that) and waiting for someone, somewhere to heal me using cosmic rays. So what if it is endorsed by not only Wayne but a slew of 1980's B list actresses? I'd be a lot more enthusiastic if I could go to Arizona or California or wherever-the-hell and meet this "Max" person, see his magnificent machine, talk to "Jennifer". I wanna believe, really I do - I'm clapping like crazy here - but I have the same problem, essentially, that I had with Redfield (Redfern? Redsomething...) and the Celestine books: retreaded philosophy being passed off as discovery in a penny-dreadful novel. Tossing in occasional Einstein and Plato quotes doesn't elevate the material so much as convince us that the author has a Bartlett's nearby and isn't sure that his audience would recognize other names. Calling it a "religion" sounds to me like a simple tax dodge. As I said, maybe I'm just a cynical Scot.
But I do believe in the ability of the mind to heal, and even if it can all be written off as coincidence (which I don't believe in, incidentally), placebo effect or some other more esoteric cause, bottom line is whether or not the patient is better in his own eyes. So if your back is so bad that you can't get out of bed for more than a few hours at a time, or your liver is compromised and western medicine can't offer you more than a 5% chance of remission after 18 months of torment, maybe you go for it. Maybe, for whatever reason, you feel better. That's all that matters.
So I'll keep clapping just as hard and as fast as I can.
http://www.amazon.com/Sanctuary-Path-Consciousness-Stephen-Lewis/dp/1561708453
Despite much help from a bookstore guy who looked like he'd spent too many hours in the hallucinogenic plants section, no book was forthcoming. Not wanting to have to cope once again with the inexorable slowness of the accursed Media Mail, I popped into a Barnes and Noble on the way home and paid full price *shudder* for a copy. John read it in one sitting and is all set to have an energy frequency adjustment or whatever the hell it's called.
Okay, maybe it's my Scots blood, but I have a little trouble with just sending a check (and a not insignificant one at that) and waiting for someone, somewhere to heal me using cosmic rays. So what if it is endorsed by not only Wayne but a slew of 1980's B list actresses? I'd be a lot more enthusiastic if I could go to Arizona or California or wherever-the-hell and meet this "Max" person, see his magnificent machine, talk to "Jennifer". I wanna believe, really I do - I'm clapping like crazy here - but I have the same problem, essentially, that I had with Redfield (Redfern? Redsomething...) and the Celestine books: retreaded philosophy being passed off as discovery in a penny-dreadful novel. Tossing in occasional Einstein and Plato quotes doesn't elevate the material so much as convince us that the author has a Bartlett's nearby and isn't sure that his audience would recognize other names. Calling it a "religion" sounds to me like a simple tax dodge. As I said, maybe I'm just a cynical Scot.
But I do believe in the ability of the mind to heal, and even if it can all be written off as coincidence (which I don't believe in, incidentally), placebo effect or some other more esoteric cause, bottom line is whether or not the patient is better in his own eyes. So if your back is so bad that you can't get out of bed for more than a few hours at a time, or your liver is compromised and western medicine can't offer you more than a 5% chance of remission after 18 months of torment, maybe you go for it. Maybe, for whatever reason, you feel better. That's all that matters.
So I'll keep clapping just as hard and as fast as I can.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Energies
Ah, the things we learn. Things that absolutely cannot possibly work, yet...do.
To wit: being able to discern the desirability of a given substance by pressing it into one's solar plexus while someone presses down on one's extended arm. If the arm is more easily pressed, the food, drink, drug or what-have-you is a poor choice for the individual; if the arm seems to grow stronger, then the individual will benefit from the substance.
I have not yet read the studies, so I withhold judgment until I've seen some of the experimental details, but David Hawkins http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_R._Hawkins
appears to have done quite a few interesting pieces of research. I've got his book, Power vs. Force, coming from the library
And I've done the testing myself, on family members, and had them do the same to me. Fascinating stuff. Of course, it cannot possibly work, yet it does. Go on, try it - you know you want to: Stand with your left arm out and have your partner put his/her left hand on your right shoulder and try to push your arm down using the index and middle fingers of his/her right hand. The strength with which you can resist this pressing supposedly is an indicator of your general energetic health. (http://www.innersource.net - we love Donna Eden. Thanks, Katrina.) Now you hold the substance in question in your right hand, pressing it firmly into your solar plexus. Arm stronger = good for you, arm weaker = bad for you. We've even done rough double blind testing, and still the results come back: aspartame is really bad for everyone, sugar is bad for my husband (mr. pre-diabetes) but not so bad for me, various vitamins are better or worse for different family members. Those are the ones that get me - different results for different folks.
Can't you just hear Horatio muttering something about this being wondrous strange?
My next odd-but-true is a well-documented phenomenon in persons suffering from multiple personality disorder (itself, in my book, an odd-but-true.) It seems that one personality can be diabetic -or allergic, whatever - and another personality can be not so afflicted. Same body, different energies.
Next week sometime, assuming it Does Not Snow Any More - we got another 18" of the sloppy wet white stuff - I'll be getting back to work. Before I do, though, I'm going to a therapist (hold your applause, please) to be regressed through my past lives. This is another thing that cannot possibly work, yet appears to, and from my standpoint, whether or not something is "true" or understandable from a certain perspective is not nearly as important as whether or not its practice helps the individual.
Strange doin's on Jackass Hill.
Horatio: O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!
Hamlet: And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
To wit: being able to discern the desirability of a given substance by pressing it into one's solar plexus while someone presses down on one's extended arm. If the arm is more easily pressed, the food, drink, drug or what-have-you is a poor choice for the individual; if the arm seems to grow stronger, then the individual will benefit from the substance.
I have not yet read the studies, so I withhold judgment until I've seen some of the experimental details, but David Hawkins http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_R._Hawkins
appears to have done quite a few interesting pieces of research. I've got his book, Power vs. Force, coming from the library
And I've done the testing myself, on family members, and had them do the same to me. Fascinating stuff. Of course, it cannot possibly work, yet it does. Go on, try it - you know you want to: Stand with your left arm out and have your partner put his/her left hand on your right shoulder and try to push your arm down using the index and middle fingers of his/her right hand. The strength with which you can resist this pressing supposedly is an indicator of your general energetic health. (http://www.innersource.net - we love Donna Eden. Thanks, Katrina.) Now you hold the substance in question in your right hand, pressing it firmly into your solar plexus. Arm stronger = good for you, arm weaker = bad for you. We've even done rough double blind testing, and still the results come back: aspartame is really bad for everyone, sugar is bad for my husband (mr. pre-diabetes) but not so bad for me, various vitamins are better or worse for different family members. Those are the ones that get me - different results for different folks.
Can't you just hear Horatio muttering something about this being wondrous strange?
My next odd-but-true is a well-documented phenomenon in persons suffering from multiple personality disorder (itself, in my book, an odd-but-true.) It seems that one personality can be diabetic -or allergic, whatever - and another personality can be not so afflicted. Same body, different energies.
Next week sometime, assuming it Does Not Snow Any More - we got another 18" of the sloppy wet white stuff - I'll be getting back to work. Before I do, though, I'm going to a therapist (hold your applause, please) to be regressed through my past lives. This is another thing that cannot possibly work, yet appears to, and from my standpoint, whether or not something is "true" or understandable from a certain perspective is not nearly as important as whether or not its practice helps the individual.
Strange doin's on Jackass Hill.
Horatio: O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!
Hamlet: And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
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