Lately I have been reading about weird government programs such as “remote viewing,” a program that is immortalized in “Men Who Stare At Goats.” The movie has George Clooney as the main character. I saw the movie when it first aired on Netflix a few years ago. Then I dismissed it as fiction.
What got me interested in this subject was a you-tube video in the Dark Matter channel, where Art Bell interviews one of the remote viewers. My first reaction is “this can’t be right.” Why would they use military personnel for basically a psychic untested theory? So I went further and researched the heck out of it.
After reading four accounts of folks who worked in the program and a little online search, and found to my shock that it was true. There are only a few reasons that government agencies would use this type of program. One, the Russians were using psychic spying. Yes, they were. Two, the program had a high success rate. Considering the program ran approximately twenty years, it had a good success rate until it lost funding and was turned over to the CIA. Of course, the CIA gave it the coup de grace in 1995.
So where does this put me??? A naysayer? A person who truly believed that psychic phenomenon couldn’t be measured? If you read the accounts, the remote viewers describe it as a virtual video game instead of a psychic experience because they use the entire body. Some call it a “martial art of the mind.”
It’s been a wild journey through my brain as I read these accounts. We are more connected and less isolated than we believe. We live in a Quantum world instead of the Newtonian world, we had always known.
Some of this I could see as a fiction story– and might have been written in the 1950s by one of the classic sci-fi authors. It blows my mind that this program is in the past and not the future.
Some of these remote viewers started teaching their techniques to ordinary people and to natural psychics. Some of these remote viewers help find kidnapped children.
Let’s explore interconnectedness. It means that the good wishes and prayers have an effect on all of us. A few decades ago, I was blown away when we found that the brain had weak electrical fields. Now researchers have an “Electromagnetic Brain Theory.” Go and read that one and you’ll think you were living in the future.
I don’t know why this is so fascinating to me. I know that after all this reading, some of it will find its way into my stories.
I’ll start with an apology. I can’t believe that it has been this long since I have pontificated on health, writing, and/or my dog. It’s been a wild ride lately. Near the end of my day, I get a low-grade fever and then in the morning, I am fine again.
I have been doing QiGong, a moving meditation, for centering. In many ways it is reminiscent of the first time my kidneys failed, except the pain is not as great and I am more hydrated. In other ways, I am not quite sure if I am imagining symptoms.
When I was first ill in 2003, my symptoms were so over the top that Otto and I knew that something was very very wrong. It’s not so clear-cut today. As a good friend said to me this weekend, “You knew it would happen.”
Yes, I am not sad that I can see the slide. I am ready for it. I just wanted to do so much more before I was too sick and too tired to continue.
But I procrastinate.
Dragon Boy is 80 percent edited and will be ready for readers soon. (Second in the Hilda’s Inn series). I have the second in the EJ Hunter series done except for the first edit. I have a lot of other books on the burner, waiting for me to put my butt in the chair and write.
Plus I have been reading about remote viewing, aliens, and hominids. I can just see one of my future stories with a Bigfoot remote viewing aliens and trying to get the message out to normal folks. Would a Bigfoot have to shave to fit in with our society? Damn, there is enough tall people nowadays that they could probably even get a job. Obviously my muse is chewing on this one right now.
What has been helping me as I watch my health slide is QiGong. I feel the energy in my hands, torso, and feet as it travels through my body. I try to breath as one. I work on loving kindness meditation and now I have people tell me that it is lovely to see me smile again.
May you be happy.
May you be healthy.
May you be safe.
May you be at ease.
A new citizen’s words— So glad Kate Paulk is now an American citizen
Last week my nephrologist started to prepare me for dialysis. She said that I needed to be ready when my kidneys failed. The kidneys had lasted a very long time. They had started to slide.
Part of the preparation for dialysis would be to have a stent made. Apparently it takes one month to get the appointment for the stent, and then it takes three months for the stent to mature so it can be used.
In the beginning days of my disease, (you can find the book here), the doctor put a heart catheter into my neck. My late-hubby held my hand, while the nurse put a shot in my neck, and then the doctor slit my throat and pushed in the plastic tubing.
I don’t want to go through that again. First it was scary. Second it hurt. Third my neck rubbed raw from the tubing after over four weeks of use. My late-hubby told me he didn’t want to go through it again either. He watched the entire procedure and almost fainted. It wasn’t because of the blood, (there was very little). It was because they were cutting into his wife– me– and he was watching.
Last week I did negotiate with the nephrologist. If my kidneys didn’t stabilize, then she would order the stent in September. I know most of you know this from a post on Facebook. When I came home that day, after the news, I cried. The well-wishes and prayers were a blessing to my aching soul.
It felt like I was starting down this road again. Two years ago it was with my late hubby, and now it is the same road I started in 2003.
So I am eating more cabbage and less protein. I got rid of corn syrup, processed products, and sodas almost a decade ago. I added turmeric and more omega 3s. I am more diligent at drinking large quantities of water. Still it feels like there isn’t much I can do to stop the slide this time. There are no drastic changes to make to my eating and drinking habits. I will NOT give up coffee.
The only real change I can make is to meditate. It helps to put my mind in the present moment and not into the future of pain, kidney failure, and dialysis. Yes, I am noticing more pain. Yes, my muscles are less forgiving than they have ever been. And yes, I am cramping more.
But all of these symptoms can be caused by taking chemo. I can even blame my age.
Today I asked for health and lit a candle. For a moment my brain quit thinking and I felt peace.
The fourth of July weekend is here and if Otto was with us, he would be 69 next week. Two years ago this week, we were frantically going from doctor to doctor to find out why he didn’t feel good.The cancer word was being whispered.
Last night, I watched the clouds form. I sat in my chair, listened to the crack of thunder, watched the lightning, and counted the seconds between lightning and thunder.
I talked to him. If he were here physically we would have an upstairs apartment and he would be watching the storm. When I slipped onto the balcony with him, I would snuggle under his arm and we would watch the storm. I was safe there.
I was the gloomy one– the Eeyore. He was the one who knew how to smile at life’s idiosyncrasies. At the very least he always had a quip on his lips. I had heard most of his jokes — he cleaned them up in polite society, but when he was with his buddies, he had some of the funniest and dirtiest jokes around. I didn’t see his pranks, but I heard about some of them. Let’s say that there was a little bit of Loki in him.
He had to be more circumspect when he worked for the State– which is why I didn’t show this photo of him joking around an outhouse while he lived. Still this shows his spirit and what I loved most about him.
Funny– he had a hard start in life. He was a preemie and almost didn’t make it. He spent most of his young life in foster care. He had to learn how to take care of himself at a very young age. He was my light in a very dark world of chronic illness.
So I miss the door opening around five-ten p.m. in the evening. We also greeted each other with a kiss and a hug. I miss the smile, the jokes, and even those days when he couldn’t even muster a smile because his day had gone badly.
I miss his quizzes. He was a master at electronics and used to teach it in both the Army and the Navy. But mostly he was the one person in my life that saw me as worthwhile.
A strong man. A kind man. And sometimes a scary man.
He was a Vietnam Vet– and he did know how to protect us.
As I think of him today, I don’t want to cry and wail. I did that for months after his death. No, I want to smile. I want to remember his jokes and his joy. I want to remember that he loved me so much. I want to remember his bravery and his willingness to poke at the bear when she was grumpy–
In my twenties I was involved with a Tae Kwon Do club. It was my first time working with a group with the same goal.
Some of the things I learned helped me to be more conscious of my surroundings. It also helped me to stay away from situations that would endanger me or others. So when my doctor told me that I needed to do some light exercise– walking, etc. I was pretty sure he wasn’t referring to martial arts. So over two years ago I looked for something besides yoga (I have done some yoga, but my body just doesn’t bend that way very well) so I could keep my body limber. I found a Tai chi group– but they were into the martial arts and didn’t want to deal with someone who had multiple illnesses. So I thought that I was done.
The reason I thought of Tai chi as a light exercise was because when I was in Japan, I would see groups of elderly ladies doing exercises in the park. Some of these women were in their 80s. If they could do it, by damn I should be able to do it.
A friend, also a veteran, suggested that I go to the fitness club and inquire there about classes for people who had illnesses. I did know that in some areas there are classes for seniors and people who had problems with movement. So I did. They didn’t do Tai Chi– they did Qigong.
The instructor, an elderly man who was sprier than most sixty-year-olds I have met (he was over 70), showed me how to breath, showed me how to walk, and showed me how to move. I have a habit of holding my breath to0 long and I don’t smile. So that is my homework– breath, walk, and smile. All things that are hard for me, especially smiling.
Yes, my ribcage, back, arms, and legs are sore today. I moved in ways that I haven’t since I became ill. The important point is that I can move.
Why do I want to learn this style of exercise?
I used to run, lift weights, and do aerobic classes for years. It was the strength in my body that saved my life from dying the first time I ended up in the hospital. Plus I sit a lot when I write and craft. To do this exercise, all I need is a small room and a few minutes to do an exercise in between my writing. I can stay limber and those problems of stiffness in the mornings will become less. Plus this is good training to stay in the present moment.
I started out life as a poet. I wrote my first poem at 9 years old. It was later as I got older and realized that I tapped into someplace other than my conscious mind that I began these little rituals to focus my mind on writing.
People outside the field of writing like to call these rituals –superstitions. However, writers are not the only ones who have rituals. You see it in sports and other endeavors that take the person past the normal world.
So I used to turn on some music, light a candle, place my favorite pen next to the computer, and then write. These little actions would tell my mind that it was time to dip into the subconscious and write poetry or tell stories.
Each time I did this, the ritual would help my mind to open wider. Since I have written regularly, I quit this ritual or maybe it slipped back into my subconscious. There are so many things in the “real” world that distract–illness, daily chores, and even electronic devices. I have to admit that the internet and TV are two of my main time wasters when it comes to writing. So lately, as I hit a very dry spell in my writing, I knew that I needed to resurrect my ritual.
In the background I hear “Carry on my Wayward Son” by Kansas. I carved a few symbols on my white candle and lit it. My favorite pen is near my elbow. I am now ready to write.
Just gazing into the candle, I go to another place.