Panther-Looking Cat

There was a giant panther lying on its haunches in the back yard facing away from me so that what I first saw was its back and head and ears. I started to reach down to pat it, thinking it was the stray that reminded me of a panther that has been recently traversing my yards. As soon as I realized that it wasn’t a little kitty — the same time I saw my indoor cat had gotten out and was meandering around with her butt in the air like she was trying to attract the panther — I scooped her up and gingerly walked back into the house through the closest door. Then I realized that I was dreaming.
I’ve read lately that dreaming is an indication that one isn’t sleeping — at least, not sleeping well. But I have also read that being vegan cures almost any ill. I’m not finding that to be as true as so many others do and it’s alarming. I can’t think of what else to do but I keep trying.
Recently my back gave out and forced me to stop in my always-busy-doing-something tracks. It’s been extremely tempting to become depressed with thoughts that I will never be the same. The dread of things getting worse is overwhelming thoughts of better hopes. It’s a real struggle and not at all good constantly ruminating those unpleasant waves of doubt.
One of my friends said, “I’ve always thought it was all a bunch of hooey,” and by that she meant, my trying to eat better. I’m sure my meat-eating friends will say my troubles are all due to not eating meat. Dr. Roby (Fitt) Mitchell will probably advise to quit eating fruit because sugar in the diet, so he says, is what increases insulin resistance and that insulin resistance is at the root of all our ills. Dr. McDougall and many of my other food gurus will say, cut out any added salt and don’t eat liquid, processed fat, (and certainly not meat) because fat is what’s the real culprit in insulin resistance after all is said and done and all the studies are revealed. Does anybody really know — that’s all I want to know.
So, since not eating meat is not an option to change, I’m trying to figure out if I can be my own placebo. Lately I’ve been trying to let fears rush over me to see if I can find what might really be behind them — and then change that poor thinking like any good vegan would instead of eating any meat.
The latest book I bought to try to think better says that we only think we’re getting sick because we see so many others buying into that kind of thinking and we think that it is normal when in truth, he says, it isn’t normal at all — quite the contrary. And the placebo man says he healed a broken back with just positive thoughts — believing he could direct his genes to do what he asked them to. I tend to believe he’s not lying. I think we fall far short of being what we can be.
As with most dreams, actions are often thwarted — feet get stuck in concrete. In the dream, after I scooped the cat and brought her and me back inside the house, I tried to call animal control. There was some kind of contraption on the phone to make it easier for someone other than me to us like a shorthand for the buttons under it — as if pushing buttons on a phone isn’t easy enough. Once the contraption came off, the buttons still wouldn’t push right and whoever I got, a policewoman it seemed, couldn’t seem to find the right solution. She kept asking me questions instead of sending someone out. Fortunately, I woke up right after that and by then the panther disappeared — except for the little panther-looking cat.
So, what’s the moral of the story: any day we wake up is a good day because that means there’s another day to seek the truth. And maybe, just maybe, the bad back is trying to tell me how to be my own placebo because the only way might be to slow down enough to read the book and let waves of fear rush over me and see what they mean. And maybe too, just maybe, it’s time to try to be an artist again instead of always moving heavy things around the garden.

 

Games People Play

There isn’t much that a pound of flesh or a piece of chocolate can’t fix once an offender or a trouble has been noticed or identified. The unfortunate thing might be that pounds and pieces have their own comeuppance that tracks the secondary offending culprit who has taken it or eaten — at least or especially if their acceptably allotted measure of a pound or a piece has been exceeded.

Banks take too much, that’s for sure and seem never to have to answer — it’s hardly fair but they seem to be the ones making or shifting lines in the sand and setting all the rules for what constitutes the Games People Play:

“The interest will be 19% on that cream-colored new Toyota truck you think you want as a treat to yourself for your upcoming birthday to make up for the neglect your boyfriend is paying — unless, of course, you want to buy the extra warranty and then it can drop to 16% so I can charge you a simple, one-time fee for you to have it and at the same time give a SPIFF to me for including it.”

He wasn’t quite that honest.

“I won’t pay another dime”, she’d said so he adjusted the margins to fit the bonus he’d receive for selling her the add-on.

Interest rates. Imagine that they are that simple to manipulate. Imagine that she hadn’t refused to pay another dime, she’d have had to pay three points more over the long haul  — the truck would have just about doubled by the time she’d finished paying for it — four years down the road.

Live and learn. Life is hard. It’s often quite unfair and favors all the ones who have no conscience.

How do people have the conscience to charge three points more when they could just as easily let it slip down to three points less — what kind of people are they? The same kind that shoot wild animals?

Gamers. Thieves. Salesmen. Politicians and corporations. Profit making aparati.

There ought to be some laws.

The truth is, or so it seems, that it is best just not to be a part. There is no way to gamble for security that can’t be broken somehow.

What’s a body to do?

Tic Tac Toe

Better grab the chocolate, grow a garden and save some silver.

Everything Is Alright

A good time to remember that everything is alright with the world is the moment that it is realized that it can be complained about later that it is too cold or the Sun is setting too early. Later one can remember that it would be nice if it would warm up some or Spring would finally sprout but for now, it has and has already gone on to be the heat well known as Summer where wishing for the cold can cloud out space for remembering how close Fall is already around the corner.

A world is whatever one thinks it is and if all that is clouding a brain are happy thoughts like how dragonflies inspired helicopters and of the good they do in a garden, that world can be alright.

Is there any value in wasting time thinking about unhappy things if one absolutely doesn’t have to?

 

Fluttery Little Things