Name:Thomas Country:United States State:Illinois Metro:elgin Birthday:1/22/1946 Gender:Male
Interests:Past gearhead and drag racer, RC cross country sailplane competitor and rifle team member. Currently I watch virtually anything with wheels race, especially F1 and NASCAR. Currently engaged in experimenting with auditory stimuli best suited to help induce a deeply relaxed state. Expertise:Private practice in stress, anxiety, panic and depression. I'm especially good at these disorders as I have/had them all myself. I can relate to clients quite readily and be very self-revealing about ways to solve many problem behaviors through both academic training and personal experiences. I'm also unusual in that I see clients in my comfortable and private home office and I make housecalls for clients who cannot travel easily. Occupation:Other Industry:Medical
Some time ago I wrote about various accidental, "impossible" ways to injure myself. Until the times at which they came to pass, none would have even occurred to me. I had not given them any forethought, and if I had, I still would have believed them to be extremely low in their probability of occurrence. I do not believe that I am accident prone. That would imply that I had some character flaw or an unconscious need to punish myself for my past misdeeds. I have no such need, as I usually get caught. No, this is a stranger phenomenon. Accidents actively pursue me, stealthily awaiting their chance for a sneak attack. Although I am almost always on my guard, my finely attuned senses working overtime to ward off the inherent danger they pose, they sometimes slip past my carefully guarded perimeter and get me.
Such was the case as I gathered my bags of recyclables, garbage, and cat poop. There seemed to be little danger in this act and it would be a good thing to have accomplished and done for the day. The fact that I am a cheapskate thrifty, eco-conscious individual enters at this point. I have almost never purchased garbage bags. Why would one buy something with only the intent of throwing it away? I re-use grocery bags as garbage bags. Granted, they are somewhat smaller and not the most attractive waste containers available, but for the most part, they serve the purpose well. I also fill Pepsi cartons with any paper to be recycled. The point of all this explanation is that I end up carrying multiple small bags to the garbage receptacles rather than one or two, and that this is slightly more difficult to do. I managed to get the majority of the bags, boxes, and contents to the proper receptacles, only losing a can or two along the way. That was easy enough to correct.
OK. We now have Doc at the scene of the great dumpster incident of the week. There is one further element that needs to be known before this tale will make sense (this statement presumes that I ever make much sense, a possibly unjustified assumption on my part.) I am very nearsighted and the eyeglasses I got about two years ago have gone through a slow but steady process of falling apart. First the nose pads disintegrated and were replaced free by the unnamed eyeglass emporium. Last year I was called by them to come in for my annual eye exam, which I did and to which I took the taped together pieces of their deluxe frames. They repaired the right earpiece, which had simply fallen apart at the hinge, with a vaguely matching piece from the scrap bin. It worked, but I was informed that I was not eligible for insurance benefits for frames or lenses until this summer. OK, the sides didn't match, but they worked. Since that time, the left side earpiece broke in exactly the same place and manner in which the right one had previously done. My thought was that I could wait a month or so, while looking a bit foolish and nerdy, with the left earpiece simply taped together. This worked to a less desirable degree than had the previous repair. They are looser and have to be bent back into shape multiple times per day. I let this go as I was awaiting an appointment with my ophthalmologic surgeon and felt it would be foolish to replace glasses which I would only have to re-replace in a month or so.
For some reason, unknown to me, I feel compelled to look into the dumpster to be certain that the recycling bags had landed in the general area toward which I had tossed them. Large error in judgment there (or lack thereof.) As I did this, the aforementioned loose, taped together, spectacles followed the bags into the dumpster. As I contemplated this development I realized that the dumpster was too tall to simply step or reach into; that I couldn't see the very object that I needed to see to retrieve; and that there was absolutely no way to accomplish this without appearing to be as odd as I actually am to the neighbors. The lowest point close to the search area was about 4.5 feet tall and I ended up (pun intended) bent over the side, feeling around for any item that might be eyeglasses. The good news was that I found them in fairly short order. The bad news was that the cracking noise I heard near my left shirt pocket, as I exited the green monster, was not the plastic pen that I had briefly hoped it might be. It was some portion of my anatomy, presumably a rib, making the sound. This guess was quickly confirmed as I engaged in one more foolish action. I breathed.
Anyway, the rib thing seems to be healing as long as I don't do anything to anger the offended skeletal member – like sneezing, coughing, or hiccupping. The green beast needs to be taught a lesson, however, and I am contemplating something appropriately vengeful. Three bags of cat poop just doesn't seem like enough.
How: One minute of silence at noon to honor the International Day of Peace’s moment of silence. At 12:01 p.m. we will start the toning, until 12:05 or longer if you want.
What: We’ll sound the “AH”–the universal sound of love and appreciation–or “MA,” the sound of Mother Earth–in order to assist the creation of peace and healing to the planet.
Our intentions–our feelings, visualizations and beliefs–are encoded upon the sounds we make. Sound has the power to focus and amplify our thoughts, prayers and meditations. When we project the energy of love and appreciation while sounding the “AH” on Sept. 21, we will be able to shift and raise consciousness and awareness on a global scale.–Jonathan Goldman
* There will be a special Internet radio broadcast;taking place at 11 AM NY Time (11 AM EDT) one hour before the Global Sound Healing Event with Jonathan Goldman and guests.
A Four Directions Call
This is a call to all people of spirit who wish to join in a global linkage for Peace as noon rolls across the planet on the vernal Equinox. We request that you add to your observances a minute of chanting the sound of “MA” in appreciation for the Earth, her gifts and all her children.
In all traditions, “MA” is the root sound for mother, “AH” is the sound of appreciation.
The goal is to help create a wave of healing resonance that will sweep across the planet. It is a time of great peril and trauma on this fragile world. Can we, for a moment, come together with one heart, one mind, one voice and one intention in a tone of healing?
Please in whatever tradition you are gathering for this event, will you commit to a moment of global unity for all our relations. –Betsy Stang"
I don't generally use large portions of other authors' works, and then not without attribution. I feel relatively safe from having any of my own words used in the order in which I wrote them. Who would want them? In this case, I didn't feel that I could express the ideas contained in this article any better than was already done. Beyond that, if you follow the initial title link to the Care2 site, you will find many areas of interest which you might want to read or even become actively involved with. I have been a member for about three years now, and have had the satisfaction of expressing my opinions to politicians, heads of corporations and agencies, signing petitions, and generally making my opinion noticed. I don't agree with all of their causes and I'm sure they would not agree with all of mine. That doesn't matter. Choose what you believe and support it. Remember to Pay it Forward.
The big day finally arrived last Thursday. I got out of the apartment for more than half a day at a time. This day had been awaited with much anticipation and no small amount of trepidation for over three months. It had been carefully prepared for by getting my grocery shopping done earlier in the week and a careful cost estimation such that I should not exceed my budget too badly.
The day was so special that I even luxuriated in a full bath, rather than the shower which I almost always take. This unnerved Bittle and Stinky. They are used to hearing water spraying for a few moments and then staying out of my way while I try to dry myself, remain upright, and see without my glasses all at the same time. On this occasion, however, I simply submerged and temporarily disappeared. When I again surfaced, there were four concerned looking eyes looking over the edge of the tub, presumably relieved that I had reappeared and the cat food supply would would not be interrupted. They did continue to circle the general area, however, until I resumed what they considered normal behavior; cursing while shaving the area of my neck under my beard.
I donned my best pair of Levi's, a tattersall shirt, my Frye high top boots and then began the pre-flight checklist. Wallet? Check. Belt? Check. Pants zipped? Check. Teeth? (Yes, I have forgotten them.) Check. Cell phone? Check. Car keys? Check. Reassure The Boys that I'll be back? Check. Ready for launch. Out the door and off I go to arrive at my destination at the prearranged time. What on earth would prompt such actions and preparation by Doc, you may ask. I had to get my front brakes fixed. The wear indicators had been making an increasing, intermittent scraping noise which intensified with wheel speed and of which I did not approve.
Not so interesting, huh? Well, it interested me! I had never owned a front wheel drive vehicle before this Cavalier and had little idea how costly a noise this might prove to be. At the repair check-in desk I described the symptoms, complete with hand waving, pointing, and sound effects. The repair manager seemed unimpressed. I further explained the nature of the noise and how I thought I probably had a bent brake rotor or broken caliper assembly. He said, "Uh huh. Do you want anything else checked"? The check engine light is on. "OK. We'll take care of it. Are you going to wait for it?" Yeah, unless it's going to be here over the weekend. An altogether too blasé attitude as far as I was concerned.
I went to set up a semi-permanent encampment in the waiting area. I had brought a large Pepsi and a software manual to fill the tedious hours. I may be a slow reader, but I was quite surprised when the proposed repairs and estimated costs were brought for my approval by page 18. I maintained my usual level of suspiciousness, but after reading the materials, readily agreed to the proposal. I signed, he left, and I went back to reading. By the time I got to page 37, he was back with the final bill. The problems had been repaired and the car had been test driven. What can I say? There were several screenshots I had to study in detail and I was distracted rather badly by the back two feet of a beautiful new yellow Corvette which I could see from my seat. I had staunchly resisted the temptation to wander into the showroom and drool on it.
An amazing experience then occurred. Replacement of the rotors (which were delaminating), pads, a repair of the throttle body, and the replacement of an inline fuel filter and gas cap had been been accomplished for a little over 1/3 the amount I had prepared myself for in advance. Even though my questions about senior discounts or any from various auto club and other organizations were to no avail, I remained a happy ex-camper as I escaped the waiting room. As I accessed the roadway and immediately exceeded the speed suggestions repeatedly as I tested the brakes, I remained very pleased. No screeching noises were heard, no check engine light seen, and from what I could tell, throttle performance was improved. I was so overcome with delight that I went on a spontaneous shopping spree at a local surplus store where I bought eight unique paper clips, 20 button batteries, and a cheap one-meter measuring tape. There was no stopping me.
When I returned to the apartment complex, checked my mail, and entered my dwelling, I was greeted enthusiastically by Bittle and Stinky. They looked at each other in a "He's back" sort of way.
