Hums and Rumbles and Roars


“Human beings are stuck in a Midas-like predicament: we can’t directly experience the true texture of reality because everything we touch turns to matter.”   ~  Nick Herbert

Don’t worry, I have nary a pep talk for y’all today. They have people that do that and I can hook you up if you want. In spite of a high level of anxiety my mind is lingering in some pretty strange but intriguing places. It’s important for me to point out that this illustrates an important point. Listen, anxiety, in my experience, is a body-based phenomenon. The bad things about it, the paranoia, fear, whatever, are residuals picked up and congealed into some pretty slimy head spaces. Residuals from what? Before I answer that I need to point out that the bundle of nerves that characterizes screamin’ anxiety, that which has been diagnosed in me as PTSD, requires an attractor, a base ‘engine’ that picks up the residuals and organizes them into the big scary thing called PTSD. So, the residuals are stuck memories. They don’t have to be from the actual trauma that has morphed into this giant beast of an illness. But the trauma of the event that triggered the PTSD provides the engine. The body, brain included, pretty much considers all of this to be a command. Be afraid, be very afraid. It kinda sucks, right. I’ve been to that poor me place, in regards to PTSD, countless times, but that place produces only anecdotes. Now, all of this mumbo jumbo, that which may not make any friggin sense to you, is my attempt to lay some groundwork. That said, I have learned to push in the clutch, so to speak, and to let the engine idle along as it will. This frees my mind. Lately that freedom has been taking me into “some pretty strange but intriguing places”, as I said at the beginning of this post.

I just recently exchanged a couple of emails with Dr. Penny Sartori, who is one of the top researchers in the world in the field of NDEs (near death experience) and what’s going on there anyway. I love emails from Penny. She is chatty and down-home, and having seen her speak on You Tube videos I ‘hear’ each word of the emails, spoken in her adorable Welsh accent. Point is that her theories, knowledge, whatever, are part and parcel of her daily life. Eighteen month old boy, speaking engagements on a pretty trippy subject, it’s all one. As do most NDE researchers (hey, settle down, I qualify as one of them!) we both have a strong interest in consciousness. I mentioned to her the ideas that provide the basis for my new book and she replied, “It’s interesting that you mention delving into the archetypal realm and the collective unconscious as that is an area that I want to delve into more too”. There ya have it. Now, I feel better about writing that kind of stuff here. But I have been delving into quantum physics as well. I’ve been listening to the audio book of How the Hippies Saved Physics. Very cool book, exquisitely written and researched. Don’t forget to say thanks to them hippies, k? Anyway, I’ve also been listening to some stuff by Peter Kingsley, who is a scholar in regards to pre-Socratic history and philosophy in ancient Greece. And then there is the newbie, Dr. Robert Lanza, who’s biocentrism theory threatens to shake the bejeezes out of the scientific community some day. I know it shakes me, and me being a very anxious guy, I have a lot of bejeezes to shake. And yes, I am also reviewing some of Carlos Castenada’s stuff. Friggin sorcerers, can’t get enough of ’em! Bottom line, it’s a good way to fill time while unemployed. Dr. Sartori told me to write while I have the free time. Yeah, I will. All the while the resident anxiety in my body hums and rumbles and roars along like the little train that could. Thing is, that anxious little train, it can’t. I won’t let it. I’m researching consciousness. PTSD ain’t closely related to consciousness except in that the big screamin’ beast tends to ignore it. Consciousness that is. Cognitive therapy might be the key here. Wrong thinking loses its power when confronted by reason and mental wonder.

I’ve got to go let the chickens out before they drive me crazy with their infernal chatter.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.


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