Is the End Near? Really?

With an ever-growing list of dates for the end of the world it is difficult to rise up and react each time with the proper level of fear. I have to admit I was a bit jittery last December. According to the sudden expiration of the Mayan calendar there should have been an apocalyptic event that would have ended the world. That’s like finding someone’s diary, noting the date of the last entry and concluding that it is predicting your death.  I think. But what do I know, I’m just a dumb old girl.

NASA scientists have come forth to end the confusion and explain to us that predictions were off by a few months and we are due to face devastation, destruction and annihilation on October 1^st of this year. We (the earth) are in the direct line of a solar flare and because of the lining up of the planets to clear its path should be blasting us with blowtorch intensity in a few short weeks. What will happen? There will be a worldwide blackout, death, and sudden climate changes causing death, tsunamis, earthquakes and radiation. Did I mention death?

The end of the world has threatened me every year since 1967.  One web site touted over 250 well-known predictions but I think there are far more than that. I have to admit, they got to me in 2000 (Y2K). I was expecting all electronic devices to stop, banks would be left vulnerable, no food, no water and death. Yes, death. What happened? Nothing. But a lot of companies spent thousands of dollars upgrading their systems to prevent collapse and it’s a good thing they did. Somebody got rich.

What will the person or groups ultimately say who accurately predict the end of the world?

“Told ‘ya.”

And on that day I’ll feel like a gigantic horses patoot for not believing. I have to admit I am more concerned with age spots than sunspots. Are my teeth white enough? Are these bananas organic, how can I protect my family from the evils of gluten? Will Steinmart have their next 25% sale before summer ends and when will gas prices stabilize?

Reports are showing that FEMA is spending millions of dollars on survival supplies to be delivered to District 3 before October first. Okay, and if I sit and watch NASA scientists on YouTube, I will slowly begin to stop. Stop writing, stop singing and stop caring. What’s the use? It’s all ending anyway. Why do anything except be afraid?

I don’t know about you but I don’t want to feel like that. That’s right, I’m going to risk the embarrassment of not heeding the warning and continue to live my life as if it is my last day, love the precious people in my life and throw sweet caution to the wind. I just hope I don’t get cited for littering.

Right in the Amygdala

Have you ever turned the television on at the precise moment that a hideous face spans the whole screen?  Well that’s what happened to me last week. I had to get out of bed to retrieve the remote that was mysteriously projected in the direction of the image.  I used my hand as a blinder to block my vision of the over-the-top scary face while feeling around the floor, but the sounds were still there. Growling, snarling, screeching, the grinding tone of claws unsheathed and the screams, the terrifying screams. By the time I found the remote my heart rate had doubled and I was in a state of panic. My husband walked in at the moment I was able to turn the television off.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I faked a relaxed smile and waved my hand. “Nah, I’m fine, just watching the shopping channel.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “What did you buy now?”
“Nothing,” I chirped before hopping back into bed, pulling the magic, all-inclusive, security guaranteed down comforter over my head. I wished him a muffled good night and imagined myself on a tropical island lying on the warm sand, watching fluffy clouds float by and enjoying the distant sounds of steel drums playing a calypso beat.

When I woke up the next morning I began wondering why is it that the human being is the only species that likes to scare itself? Not just a simple ‘boo’ that might cause a slight knee-jerk fidgety kind of reaction but the all encompassing wide eyed, pupil-dilating, flared nostril, dry mouth, sweaty palms, trembling, massive increase in pulse rate kind of reaction. 

After doing a little research, I found that our fear responses have been traced to an almond shaped appendage located deep in the brain's medial temporal lobe. It receives input from all of our senses and then sends messages to the limbic system which triggers the fight or flight response. Incidentally, I could qualify for frequent flyer miles.

I decided to conduct a fear test of my own in order to discover more about how this fear circuit works. Since I am familiar with my husband’s responses to certain stimuli, I thought he would make the perfect subject.  The first thing I had to do is build an atmosphere of tension.  My husband is a very laid back type so it would take a lot of ingenuity on my part to set the stage. A softhearted soul if there ever was one. I often refer to him as a concrete covered marshmallow. He loves kids, animals and food. If pizza were a woman, I would be jealous. I chose food to be the application for my controlled experiment. 

Sandwich architecture is one of my husband's specialties. If Subway were to get ahold of some of his blueprints they would be a lot more popular than they are now. I made the creamy crisp slaw that he likes to refer to as the perfect counterpoint adding crunch and zing to the layers of fresh deli turkey, Parmesan sprinkled tomato slices and the evenly sliced (measured with a digital micrometer) sharp Provolone. The thick sourdough bread gets grilled on the insides to keep from getting soggy from the generous dollops of seasoned mayonnaise. Strips of bacon and avocado are lovingly placed on the stack, the slaw and a quick shake of salt and pepper before the final piece of sourdough.

The kitchen's aroma of fresh bread, bacon and cheese wafted into the next room where I devised my plan. I wasn't sure I would be able to pull it off. He was just finishing a masterpiece when I asked him if he would have a look at my computer. I told him it had a strange error message on it and I needed to use it right away.

"I don't see any message." He called out.
"Okay, just sit down at the table and I'll bring you your sandwich."

From his place at the table he watched, his eyes never left the sandwich. About half way there my flip flop twisted and I fell forward. I juggled the plate with both hands. I heard him gasp. The atmosphere of tension had been created. In the next moment the sandwich slid from the plate and fell on the floor. He screamed. I have never heard him do that. His Amygdala was hard at work alerting his limbic system to react. Yes, his eyes were wide, his pupils dilated, perspiration instantly appeared on his forehead and his breathing was labored. He rose to his feet but his knees buckled and he plopped back down, shocked silent by the sight of all his labor scattered across the floor. He didn't even notice me examining his vital signs because he was in grief.

In hindsight, I should have spent more time thinking this through. Even after I told him that what fell on the floor was a sandwich double and the real one, the one that he had spent so much time building, was safe and intact he was still angry. I have learned that anger follows induced fear and never mess with a man's sandwich.

What If Insurance

I read an article the other day that more and more couples are purchasing Wedding Insurance. My first thought was…Really?  Wedding insurance?  Still, policies are being offered for as little as $95. Considering that the average wedding these days is $30,000, you certainly want to protect your sizeable investment don’t you? A couple of hundred bucks is a minimal investment to make sure things go well…just one small premium.

I love that word premium, don’t you? The word itself suggests a prize or bonus. It kind of makes you think you’re special and getting only the best for the money you spend. Yup, I pay my premium every month and I do feel special until I have to file a claim. All of a sudden my rating goes from special to zero and the interrogation, paperwork and groveling makes me want to say, “never mind, I’ll replace it myself but I’ll continue to pay my premiums in case the new one gets damaged.”

But that’s the downside of insurance so let’s keep this positive.

Truthfully, I have heard some heartbreaking stories about wedding days veering off course. Caterers, florists and photographers are a possible no show, wardrobe malfunctions and alcohol related disasters happen all the time. The negative what-if list is endless. Some policies even offer a ‘cold feet clause’.  I think insurance companies might make more money if they would consider offering Marriage insurance, of course all the possible exclusions and limitations of coverage would take years to list but I’ll bet they’re working on it.

Seriously though, what’s next? Why don’t they offer insurance for going grocery shopping or to the movies? These walks down the aisles have turned into major purchases as well. We are way too limited when it comes to protecting our financial investments.

Drive through insurance booths should be conveniently situated in every parking lot. Insurance packages could be numbered with a description of coverage that is available. Perhaps you want to cover yourself for a single shopping event or supersize your order to supply coverage over a period of time.

If you are making a quick run to the grocery store, the number one basic package would suffice. That would include any costs incurred by a virus contracted from handling the germ laden cart handle or being a victim of assault and battery by a crazed food demonstrator who stabs you with a toothpick because of their feelings of rejection caused by your refusal to taste the buffalo chicken dippers.

Injuries sustained from competing for the last box of Lucky Charms might be best covered under package two. But what if you drive to the store and they are out of the item you went for? Isn’t your time worth something? What about the gas money it took to get to the store or the feelings of guilt heaped upon you by individuals at the store entrance for not signing their petition to secure resources and funding to begin construction of a Death Star by 2016? I don’t know about you but I would love to recover all the dimes I’ve spent on bags because I forgot to bring my reusable ones into the store. Supersize me!

Movie theatres are another reason to buy insurance. Yes, package number one would cover an ankle sprain after missing that last step towards the aisle due to the lights being lowered 45 minutes before the movie starts so they could show previews, commercials and fun movie facts.

I once had a small, 32 ounce Dr. Pepper spilled down my back just after the man holding it got his pinky ring caught in my hair. I changed seats, was given an absorbent paper towel by the usher but spent the entire movie trying to find dry kernels in my medium size popcorn and I never did get the stain out of my blouse.

For the next reasons alone, I would buy the supersize package for moviegoers. On a scale of 1-10 (starting with 10) these are the reasons I would file a claim. Getting shot. People playing 20 questions in loud voices during the movie or talking on their cell phone. Dropping a smuggled bottle of Snapple from the last row and laughing hysterically as it rolls down to the first row. Crying babies. People with chronic coughs who have mistaken the theater for a hospital. People who ask questions about the movie all the way through it. And of course movies that have so many plot holes you get a migraine from rolling your eyes so hard.

There are many other possible niches for policies and I’m sure they will be addressed in due time. Until then, don’t walk down the aisles without it.

Dr. Weakly and Positive Reinforcement

Have you ever noticed something about yourself that truly chaps your hide? Of course, we all have, unless you are a sociopath and have no defects. Maybe its something that you thought you had overcome or perhaps grown out of. Like when someone obviously delivers you a verbal jab and all you do is shrug (passiveness) or you are offered a piece of something remarkably decadent and you really want to taste it but you find yourself saying, “no thank you, I don’t have room for one more bite” (insincerity). What about that juicy story about a friend of a friend that truly bears repeating (gossip) or pretending you are more important and more prosperous than you really are (phony) to compete with someone's possessions or accomplishments (envy)?

Looking your defects dead in the eye is uncomfortable. What have you seen? Well, let me tell you what I found.  It would seem I have a very strong cast of character defects.  One look at the list I had written sent me running to another session with Dr. Weakly. Our transcript follows:

Dr. Weakly: So, you are back again. It has been a while.

Me: I guess I thought I was better.

Dr. Weakly: (with arrogant smile) what do you think is the root of your obsession with inconsequential things?

Me: What do you mean?

Dr. Weakly: You have more mood swings than a big band.

Me: I was hoping you would help me overcome my defects, not criticize and judge.  Two heads are better than one you know.

Dr. Weakly:  Really? If you introduce another head into this equation chances are you will simply bump heads. Besides, I’m not so sure your head is operating at 100% of a full head. It could be as effective as pumping oxygen into an open field.

Me: What?

Dr. Weakly: Take a look at all the things you have achieved in your life.

Me: (Frowning)

Dr. Weakly: Never mind.  What you need to do is look at your defects with clean glasses.  Use some lukewarm water and gentle soap or a microfiber cloth. You can’t reach your mental infrastructure by reverse brainstorming.

Me: Can you give me an example of how to see my defects more clearly?

Dr. Weakly: Are you expecting me to do your work? You think because I charge you two hundred dollars an hour that it will bribe me to lie to you? Do you think I have amassed my great wealth by means of fraud?  Think hard. I know it sounds like a monumental task but can you name one thing you have any ability in?

Me: Ability?

Dr. Weakly: What is that voice in the back of your mind saying about you? It must be exhausting to drag that uncertainty around day in and day out. Have you considered joining an enthusiasts club?

Me: I’m not a joiner.

Dr. Weakly:  (after an impatient sigh) I can see that finding your backbone is going to be a long drawn out process. It will require commitment, focus, periodic evaluation to determine your progress, patience to tolerate the plateaus and a lot of time. Our time is just about up. Let me ask you this, if you were I, and I was you, what advice would you give?

Me: (after thinking for a long moment) I suppose I would tell me to be optimistic for one thing. A few foul ups don’t define me. Putting a positive spin on the events of my life doesn’t cost me a thing. It would be to my advantage to remember I’m most likely not going to hit the ball out of the park my first time at bat and I would remind me that I will survive the humiliation of revealing my imperfect self. A few initial failures are a small price to pay for learning and experiencing new things. Getting back to my yoga and meditation routines will distract me from negative thoughts and release endorphins that will help me feel happier and more relaxed. I need to define my self-improvement goals in terms of baby steps. I must be accountable to a mentor regarding my weaknesses and admit to any defects that come to the forefront. I should trust that I am guided by a higher power greater than myself to establish a list of defects and the correct order they are to be addressed. Most of all, I would remind me that challenges and difficulties are a part of life and my goal is not to have a problem free life but to monitor how I respond to obstacles.

Dr. Weakly: (his eyebrows flew up in surprise). I think the first order of business will be to get your ego to right size and remember who is the therapist and who is the patient. Attacking others, especially professionals, will only bring you setbacks. We need to project the right images onto your mental screen. I have an undergraduate degree, a doctorate degree in psychology and a master’s degree in forensic psychology. I believe that qualifies me to tell you that you will require at least six months of intense therapy and another six months of follow up therapy to address your issues. Next week, same time?

Me: Yes. Check okay?

A License to Hunt Ghosts

Recently, one of my friends showed me a photo of her family. The sun was shining, the grass was green, blossoms were blooming, everyone was smiling and she indicated the light orb just to the right of her is her mother.  It was just above her shoulder. I suggested to her that maybe the orb was a dust particle, a drop of moisture or a bug on the lens.

“Really?” she said. “Then how do you explain the fact that this is the only photo with the orb in it? We took lots of photos of our gathering with that camera and this is the only one with the mauve orb? Mauve was my mother’s favorite color and didn’t you notice the Herringbone pattern in it?”

Yes, I have to admit I did.

I’m no stranger to the supernatural. I have had paranormal experiences that could curl a porcupine’s quills. Footsteps in the kitchen when no one else was home, loud knocks on a wall, one night when I was fourteen, my mother and I awoke to a very loud crash but when we got up and investigated, nothing was out of place and my father and sister said they hadn’t heard a thing. The dog hadn’t even woken up. I have felt the presence of departed loved ones (I just seemed to know who was there) and even felt a tingly touch on my skin and the back of my hair being stroked. 

This led me to wonder about ghost hunters. Don’t ask me why. I can’t explain how my mind works either. Do you need a license to hunt? How do you get started? Where do you look? Do you need a psychic? Do you have to go at night when it’s creepy or can you hunt in the safe light of day?

Well let me tell you, there are scads of websites dealing with ghost hunters, countless photos and videos of orbs and a few sites with information for the do it yourselfer. A book is offered for the low price of $49.95 that will explain the theories behind ghostly activity, defining the spectral, organizing and conducting investigations and even where to shop for affordable detection tools.

There are ghost terminators, ghost rescuers and ghost groups. There are two types of spirits, one was a human at one time and the other was never human and considered bad news. I had a boyfriend once whose mother referred to me as bad news but that’s another story.  There are clairvoyants (seeing) clairaudients (hearing), clairsentience (feeling) clairgustance (tasting) and clairalience (smelling). I guess there is a clair for everything and everyone. I could use some clairpesos (the ability to detect money) or maybe a medium of exchange. Hey! I hear you groaning.

One of the sites I visited offered a home study course for a ghost hunting certification for $400. Now I ask you, do you really need to flaunt a ghost hunting badge at someone when a simple business card would do?  And would you be taken seriously?  Really?

Did you know they hold the annual Paranormal Awards in New Hampshire? Some of the categories are, Investigator of the Year, Researcher of the Year, Internet Show of the Year and Radio Show of the Year.  You are judged on strict criteria by a panel of professional judges with years of experience in the field of the paranormal. I’m really close on this one.

The University of Glasgow is now offering a course in psychical research for which you can earn a diploma but there is nothing of this nature in America…yet. There are plenty of seminars, groups, experts and investigators who are willing to help you for a fee. Are there government regulations for ghost hunters? Does there need to be?

What makes me real sad are those who appeal to the grief stricken. Someone who would go anywhere, do anything and pay any amount of money to have the chance to touch, see, feel, hear and smell the ones they miss so fiercely, and believe me, there are heap of ‘em.

I have lost a few that are near and dear to me,…parents, friends, a love and six years ago, my son. I don’t need a diploma to talk to him, to believe I hear his answers. I don’t need an infra-red camera when I can close my eyes and see his smile.  I don’t need a powerful EMF pump to feel the love I shared with him. I don’t need a boost amplifier because his laugh is burned into my memory.  I don’t have to pay for the intention to spend time with him. All I need is a wish and my belief that we never really die. 

Is Your GPS Working?

Dearly beloved, we are gathered together today, here in the sign of God- and Jewish mothers everywhere to grant pardon or pay homage to our female procreator. This is a day to find the 'perfect card', buy her favorite candy, contend with the maddening crowd at Peppones and honor almighty Mother, au pair, caretaker, parent, nanny and nurse.

My mother has been gone for thirty years but I remember how finding the ‘perfect card’ was no small task and often filled with emotion. I had to begin days before, rummaging the shelves of Hallmark, frisking sales clerks for the latest deliveries for that one card that depicted an unequaled, world class supreme being. Often, I would ultimately concede to the humor section and find something that made me laugh.

I have been armed with a background of guilt and experiencing the psychodynamics of it can be overwhelming to say the least.  Because of this I have very consciously worked hard to disarm it and not to use it on others although there are times I wish I had. Just kidding, kind of. 

 Guilt can be used to attain control, change a point of view or behavior, to break down, to attack and to punish. All in all it’s kind of like the Swiss army emotion, good for manipulating in any situation.

It’s appropriate to feel guilty for something you’ve done especially if it violates your own moral code.  Cheating, lying, stealing, things of this nature qualifies for a huge helping of guilt. Guilt is a built-in barometer that helps to keep us on the up and up but now I’m straying away from the subject of Mother’s Day. A good day to remember that a Guilt Producing Scheme, or GPS as I refer to it must be veiled in sweetness, helplessness or anger. My mother was a master at it and so was my father but let’s leave him out of it, his day is coming next month. 

“After all I have done for you,” was usually the signal that I should get my bag out and start packing because I was going on a long guilt trip. It was usually prompted by something I did that ticked her off, something I didn’t do that ticked her off; something I said that ticked her off or something I was thinking about doing that ticked her off. She was allowed to get ticked off, I wasn’t. As long as I was waiting on her hand and foot (because I know you’ll do it) I could be free of the countless guilt trips good for thousands of frequent flyer miles I might add. If I rebelled, I would be subject to the long, lonely, icy silence that usually prompted my shotgun approach to apologize for everything from unclean thoughts to breathing air that some nice person could be breathing.

By far, the most debilitating form of guilt that I have had to work the hardest to overcome is what I have felt for being a creative type.  I turned toward the arts at a very early age, painting a picture, writing a poem, playing a song on my guitar all were things that were considered frivolous and I was frequently reminded that I should focus my attention on getting a real job like working at the Post Office. Incidentally, I did work at the post office from 1983 to 1989 and I was miserable but that’s another story or perhaps a series of short stories about going postal.  

The sad part of all this was that my mother was creative too. She had several pieces of beaded jewelry and delicately painted porcelain that she had crafted but always kept them hidden away.  Don’t bring attention to yourself, put your light under a bushel, leave things as you found them and for God’s sake, “stop ‘yer braggin’.” She often confused self-esteem with conceit. “I never compliment my girls, I don’t want them to be conceited.” Well, maw, that worked, we’re about ten days past conceited.

Do I love my mother? Yes. Do I think she did the best she knew how? Yes.  I realize that a lot of my issues have her name of them but my solutions clearly have my name on them.  A long term stint in a self help group, thirteen years of psychotherapy and a whole lot of challenging my belief system has set me on the path I need to be thank you very much.

Today I choose to remember the amusing side of my mother like driving and never making a left turn. It’s true, she went everywhere making right turns and it is totally possible but not at all efficient. My favorite of her sayings, “The television gets real clear just before it blows up, always expect the worst and you’ll never be disappointed and never eat a banana before going to bed.” I’m sure she’s looking down on me happy that I never did test her banana before bed warning.

I love you mom, Happy Mother’s Day.

MAY IS YAM SMELLED BACKWARDS

Today, May 4th is a very special day in history. For those who don’t know or don’t care, Manhattan Island was purchased for $24 in cloth and buttons in 1626. A phonograph was played for the first time at the Grand Opera House in 1878, The Academy of Motion Pictures was founded in 1934 and Al Capone began his residency at Atlanta Penitentiary for tax evasion in 1932. I’m mentioning these days because I presume they have long been forgotten and rightfully so. 

I suppose the only day in this list truly worth celebrating would be the Academy of Motion Pictures.  Happy 79th Anniversary Academy! I plan to watch Bruce Almighty later tonight; it has been expertly stored in my Direct TV Genie HD DVR, waiting a convenient time to be viewed. Today is that convenient, auspicious and celebratory day! There are a few other choices for celebration; after all it is the first Saturday in May.

Today marks the 139th running of the Kentucky Derby, a favorite celebration for horse lovers, gamblers and drinkers. I placed a small bet on Giant Finish at 39 to 1.  I love surprises.

This is also National Pilates Day, another event worth mentioning as an annual, international, community day that is intended to foster the public’s appreciation and awareness of the Pilate Method.  Joseph Pilates developed this physical fitness system in the early 20th century and called it “Contrology”. It involves concentrationology, breathingology, mentalology, postureology  and painfulology. I don’t usually celebrate this day.

The day that truly captures my heart is, World Naked Gardening Day, with the tenth annual being celebrated today. I want to know why I didn’t know about this! People all over the world are encouraged  to tend their garden unclothed as nature intended.  Really? It is believed that WNGD can develop a sense of community (especially with the crowd you will draw), it costs no money, (unless you are cited for public indecency), runs no unwanted risk (obviously they have not considered the presence of assassin bugs or leather beetles and if you swat at them you can be arrested for sexual assault) and reminds us of our tie to the natural world (especially from a swift lash from the branch of a Crape Myrtle).

Celebrators of WNGD encourage you to tell someone about your naked gardening experiences. I felt the need to remain anonymous so I called a random number and talked at length to someone who went by the nickname of, Stalking Sam. We plan to celebrate together next year. He has a lovely garden of Cestrum Nocturnum, which only bloom at night. He said I should bring a couple of friends as well.

We all can think of safety hazards, especially when gardening naked. Since I am a sensible person, I take precautions. I always wear safety goggles  because there is a risk of small particles or neighbor’s old shoes flying through the air. Earplugs are necessary when I operate my loud gardening equipment, I prefer Putty Buddies soft silicone earplugs over the spark plugs brand. I wear gloves to prevent irritations and cuts. I also wear a safety helmet when cutting tree limbs. Sunscreen and insect repellant are a must. I am now ready to do my naked part and make my area of botanical world a healthier and more attractive place.

After only fifteen minutes of gardening, I have decided that I don’t intend to observe this day in the future. My neighbor is selling his house and his real estate agent dropped by. I gave him a wide smile as he strolled around the property. He asked me if I work in the nude often. I explained about World Naked Gardening Day and offered him some lemonade. He didn’t stay long but on his way to his car he came across a Praying Mantis and pointed to it. I told him how much I appreciate them because they keep my garden free of pest insects. Then I wondered out loud as to what the nature of  his prayers might be. Know what he said?

“I believe he is praying that you will go put some clothes on.”