Healthy Perspectives

While I was attending a lecture the other day by Daren Brooks, I reflected on health and health businesses. He brought up a valid argument that I have thought about for a while now, who is the authority on health. He mentioned his experiences after graduate school when he went to 7 seven different health officials (herbaligists, doctor, acupuncturer, psychologist, etc) and got 7 different diagnosises (he actually had made up his symptoms). He then went on to talk about how if we are creative with our health knowledge then we don't have to find ourselves stuck in a health department, but that we can do what we want to and get paid for it.

He then had us list topics we were interested in and threw out some ideas of ways that we could pursue that area that were maybe non-traditional. I mentioned patient education and he mentioned that you could create a program, with a manual and maybe some CDs and then take it to a hospital and propose it to the hospital administration. Me... little old me... teaching other people something that I don't really have any "experience" in, but have heard lots about. And yet, why not?

If I know something about anything, shouldn't I try and share it with others, shouldn't I try and help people out? I can't profess that I know everything or that I have some amazing proliferation of knowledge, but I can help set up a program for patients on their way to recovery so that they can make habit changes and instead of having to come back for subsequent surgeries can enjoy their lives and their changed lifestyle.

It was interesting, as Daren was leaving, because he mentioned that we are the only ones going through our experience, we are the only ones that know what we are feeling, so even though we can get advice from doctors, herbaligists, mother-in-laws, etc. it is always up to us to ask ourselves what we need and to reconnect. So in the end, the health professional is not just the guy who went to school for eight years, but it's you and it's me.

And that is what I would call a healthy perspective.

Feeling the vibrations

Someone once told me that in our smallest particles we are made up of energy. Everything we are, everything we do, is a vibration of particles of energy inside and outside of us, whether we are doing back flips or if we are stuck on our back. I think this explains to some degree why we resonate, like guitar strings when things seem to be true. According to Webster something is true if it is “consistent with fact or reality; not false.” We can feel truth because it is part of us, it is something we have known, we do know and we will know.

I think this carries into music, not necessarily the truthfulness part of it, but the way that we can relate to music can be much more than on a “like” or “dislike” basis. In fact, we can listen to something until it begins to cause our whole bodies to vibrate, until we not only grow accustom to listening to it, but until it becomes part of our beings. Is it possible that we can listen to music, to sounds and vibrations until they have changed the way we resonate and the basic structure of our beings?

I know that simplifies things on a grand scale, but sometimes when I listen to someone singing, not just through speakers, but when I hear the vibrations through the air straight from their vocal chords I can feel it. I can feel it seeping into my arms, legs, filling me up until it begins to leak out of me. Often times I can feel it even in the hairs of my arms.

Croatian me Crazy

I have returned, prodigal and wonderfully happy to return. It was intense, to say it was entirely enjoyable, 2 & 4 year olds and all. Pictures to come.

Prop me up on that one

I'm not a very political person, I'm not even very politically correct, but the other day I learned a little bit more about California's Proposition 8.

Here's el dealio, I couldn't understand, why would the church want us to vote for Prop 8 so badly? I understand that homosexuality is a sin and that we shouldn't condone it, but at the same time, don't people have their rights to believe whatever they want to believe? And then I read this.

Also, check this out

Glomerular Apparatus

Tell me about your expenses, sing me a lullaby of taxes, stocks, and all your investments. I love listening to your money talk and hearing all of your thoughts on stock. Give me hope and give me love, wrap me up tight in your green dreams. I'll sit you in the corner and I'll spin you round and round and round.

Baby, business is my business and babies are my hobby-horse. So baby, let's go for a ride.

Nostalgia

The feeling of my hair blown on my face, in my ears, and around my forehead is something unfamiliar, but this bench, the smell of exhaust, and the anticipation are not.

It has always been a journey, before I steppeed out my door I could feel it. It was the rush, the distant beeping, the only difference was the increase in gas prices. The store window displays are advertising the same things with new names or else have dissappeared with the window panes. The shady Mexican restaurant, the smell of grease, and fries and grass clippings.

The mountains? They're as constant as, as unmoving, as immovable as my Grandpa's constitution. Don't expect them to reflect the look of surprise I see on your face, they've seen it.

The screech of the wind through the windows has been there, but I just never realized before what it was screeching about. This time I want to join it.

But in the end, what really changes? Is it the people, the places, the weeds? Or is it only our opinions? The shoes we wear are a different brand, a different style, maybe a different color, but the same size, the same foot. And why does some change feel natural while other changes rip us apart?

Cry a little bit

It was white. With brown and strawberry chunks scattered about it and shattered glass shards spread sporadically across the floor. It was yogurt with granola and fruit. It was a mess that I now had to clean and I was going to be late for work. It was a safety hazard for those walking across the kitchen with bare feet.

It WAS my breakfast.