A Poem

It’s too late
My friends took the potion
They didn’t know about the sharp edges
That will cut forever
And never dissolve
Foul chi is a liar
He stirred the cauldron with bat blood
And flesh from a baby
Then let it escape
He said no I didn’t do it
But guess what I have the cure
Nano particles in the deltoid
People line up for it

The Family Home

I look down on the old place and see the kitchen door, the most used entrance and exit on the place, being repeatedly slammed and falling apart. I see the person slamming the door is in an emotional state. Now the place is all fixed up and rented out to somebody for top dollar, I even get some sharing from that once in a while. I am looking back through the years, most of a decade, to a time when myself and a sharp tongued individual were occupying the place, temporarily, as it turned out, although my father had told me, before he passed, that the place was to be mine. All his other offspring had received gifts of real estate from him or with his help. This was mine.

The person I choose to share my life with had a very difficult childhood. He was born with two club feet and two twisted leg bones. He spent the first 5 years of his life alternating between casts and polio braces, both extremely painful. He endured a series of operations until, at the age of 5 years old, he was at last able to stand on his feet and take his first tentative step. His twisted legs had survived unsuccessful surgeries, multiple threats of amputation, then an experimental procedure where the leg bones had been removed, chopped up, replaced and casted well past the extent of the endurance of the crippled four-year-old. Lonely, in pain, and crying in the hospital, he was shot up with dose after dose of tranquilizers, drugs that built up in his system contributing to the chronic asthma he battled until well into his teens. He played the tenor saxophone and the flute, developing the strong chest of a wind player, finally defeating the asthma. As an older teen and young adult, he found Natural Hygiene, and went on a series of water fasts. Miraculously, he runs, walks and hikes.

Right before the verbal tirade that put me in a door slamming tizzy, law enforcement officers had entered our home unnoticed by either of us. I became aware after the door to the room I was in (the master bedroom downstairs that we used as a study) was knocked on. I was on the computer researching the choral piece, Adoramus Te. I thought it was my husband at the door, and wondered why he didn’t just come in. Fretting at what I thought was an unnecessary interruption in my work, I walked to the door, opened it, and was shocked to see a uniformed stranger standing there. I just want to point out that Jim isn’t the only one who has some unpleasant memories involving police, I do too. They came up and I had to push them back down, remain present, and try to understand what this man was doing in my home. Somewhere behind him was another I think. I remember there being two, although I only related directly to one of them.

“Is Larry Henderson here?” he asked, naming a name shared by my son-in-law, step-grandson, and my daughter’s father-in-law. I surmised that it was the step-grandson he was after having heard that the 20-year-old had stolen a car, done some time, and was then on parole. At the time, the boy had another set of grandparents right across the street, but I didn’t volunteer that information. He wasn’t biologically related to either one of us, and the only time he had been at our home in the past year was when my granddaughter his age (his step sister) had also been there. That information I was forthcoming about.

They seemed to want to look around to make sure. I probably had the right to ask for a search warrant, but since neither my husband nor I do any kind of drugs or illegal activity I didn’t really have an objection. Jim was in the east upstairs bedroom. I hurried up there and opened the door, intending to let him know what was going on. He was reclined on the bed. When I opened the door the policeman again asked for Larry Henderson. I was not able to shield Jim from a frightening awakening, and after the police left I was blamed.

I had to have a bowel movement but didn’t know how to excuse myself to isolate myself in the bathroom until they left. By that time my pants required laundering. It had been a fairly unpleasant ordeal for me as well. 

Is it funny yet? Can I laugh about having been expected to shield my partner from all unpleasantness when I was knee deep in unpleasantness myself? 

My home bring snatched out from under me is no laughing matter either. I drew up the papers and went to court. I bought a hybrid Honda SUV and a travel trailer with the settlement. I’m happy, but sometimes I would like a little more living space and a bigger garden then just a few potted plants. I showed my sister a video of my tiny garden, and she said she was happy to see it. Sometimes I think she didn’t mean to deprive me. My brother’s aggressive appropriation because of his wife’s gambling put a strain on the family  finances. So here I am living on the kindness of a cousin of my husband. My sister-in-law gambled away the family fortune at a casino, resulting in my homelessness. For two years now we have parked our travel trailer on land sustained in part by a gambling institution.

Happiness

When you are happy you can’t be angry. But you can have a sense of humor. Laughter and happiness are very compatible. When you’re happy there is no room for self pity. You can introspect, but you do it with confidence and hope. You are not afraid when you are happy. You can face danger, and you know that, no matter what the outcome, you will maintain your connection to Spirit. You can’t be happy and hate. There is no room in my heart for prejudice. You can’t be arrogant, or think too highly of yourself, and still be happy. You can’t be ashamed, or think too little of yourself, and still be happy.

I felt shame trying to capture me, and I resisted it. No! I have learned this lesson, I thought. I will be happy! I won’t fall under the spell of shame. There is nothing wrong with me! If I’m not perfect, I don’t have to be perfect! It’s enough to be authentic and honest.

I felt anger trying to capture me and I resisted. Ha-ha, it’s just a joke, let me laugh. Let me see the lips of Spirit smiling. Ah yes, I can drink the joy and escape the anger.

I felt the complainer try to capture me and I resisted. Sure I can whine — there’s always something — but why should I? There’s also always something to be thankful for. I can be grateful! 

I felt fear try to grip me and I resisted. There is danger all around. Living is a dangerous activity. But will I let fear rule me, constrict me, isolate me? No way! Fully knowing the danger, I will be bold! Not foolish, I will take certain sensible precautions, like pray for the will of Spirit, maintain a healthy diet and lifestyle, and find voices of Truth within the deluge of propaganda.

Love and the Human Spirit

Chapter One – The Hike, the Trail and the Lord

    Carol moved quietly up the mountain trail. She could smell the ocean in the breeze. Such a beautiful day! she thought. She turned a bend by a group of conifers. She looked down upon a majestic valley far below. The air sparkled with energy and light. She inhaled deeply. She felt fantastic! The trees and brush were green and lush with more vibrancy than she remembered seeing in the past. Yet, she felt sure that she had been on this trail before, and that it was near her home in southern California. 

     A few feet ahead, a squirrel dashed across the trail and darted up an oak tree. Up in the sky a red hawk circled. It was a sunny day in early spring. Yellow, orange, white and purple wildflowers dotted the green landscape. Stands of purple ceanothus contrasted with green and golden scrub oaks. To her left, she saw a coyote keeping pace with her but remaining in the bush. The small wild dog didn’t seem to be startled when she turned and looked at her. She took a closer look. The animal didn’t seem in any way aggressive. Maybe she wanted to be friends. Then she noticed something strange. She could see some of the brush that was on the other side of the little yellow dog right through the animal’s body! She looked again. She had never seen a translucent, or a transparent, animal before, unless it was a glass sculpture. She stopped walking. The animal walked a little farther, then stopped and looked back at Carol. The animal’s body became more and more transparent. She became a smokey, ghostly form. Then the puff of smoke, that the coyote had become, began changing shape. It morphed into a monster with a large open mouth like a crocodile. It reminded Carol of the shapes her Uncle Fred used to make with the smoke he exhaled from his cigarette to entertain the children at holidays. Then the apparition slowly faded away, until there was no trace of it left.

     She looked around. She thought she saw misty shapes everywhere. Am I losing my mind? she asked herself. She noticed she was breathing hard and her heart was pounding. She felt a little shaky. She told herself that there must be a plausible explanation for the way the coyote had turned to smoke, and then disappeared completely, right before her, but she couldn’t imagine what it was.

     She resumed walking. Her breathing and heart rate eventually normalized, as she put the strange metamorphosis of the coyote out of her mind. She passed a blackened trunk that was wrapped around another trunk. It looked like a black snake. This reminded her of a protest that had taken place outside her office in New York while she had been at work. On the street below, people were picketing the bank building. “No black snake!” they shouted. She could hear the shouting 14 floors up, through two panes of glass. She wanted to stop funding the Dakota Access Pipeline. She made a plan to fund ethanol farms instead, but her proposal was voted down by the other executives at the bank. What else can I do? she mused. Maybe, I should just quit. But it is good money…. She stopped in the trail and thought about her career. She had worked for Rothchild Trust since college, rising up the ranks. We provide important services, she mused, but sometimes we back corrupt players. Then another thought interrupted, I’d better hurry up and get the hike done before dark! She resumed her walk. Contemplation continued, but at a less urgent pace.

     Wow, she thought, my knee doesn’t hurt anymore! Her sore knee had completely healed! She stepped up on a rock in the trail, another step in the uphill climb she was on. That used to hurt. Now her leg was as good as new! Must have been all that bed rest while I was sick. So glad I’m finally better!It felt wonderful to be on the trail again. I don’t even need a walking stick, she thought, but I could probably find one if I need one. She looked around. There were trees, bushes, and shrubs, lots of them in bloom. She didn’t see any dead wood though. She continued to walk and look. She saw nothing but beautiful green branches. She took hold of the branch of a tree, about an inch in diameter, and thought about breaking it. It will be difficult, she thought. Just then a gust of wind blew through the tree and it creaked a little. She thought she heard the words, What do you need? coming from the tree. Startled, she let go of the branch and took a step backwards. “No, I don’t really need anything. But thank you anyway!” she said out loud.

     She continued on and approached a little highland valley. There was a large, flat, grassy area ahead. She paused to get her bearings. How far am I from the parking lot and how much time do I need to get back to the car?

     She looked down at herself. She was wearing a robe and was barefoot. Her robe was lavender. It was like a long nightgown with short sleeves. Over one shoulder was a thin, rose-colored blanket. Carol was in a little bit of a shock at her apartment choices, which she didn’t remember making. What was I thinking? she thought. I am amazed, but my feet are holding up okay!

         She continued to a meadow and seated herself in the grass. I’ll rest for a few minutes and then turn back. She thought about the words of Jesus she used to read in the Bible a long time ago when she was in her early teens. She remembered a passage from the Gospel of Matthew:

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.

Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied….

    Carol wrapped herself in her blanket and fell into a light trance. When she came to herself, the sun had gone down, and it was starting to get dark. Oh no! she thought. How will I find my way back to. The car in the dark? She couldn’t remember parking the car and starting the hike. She sat up and searched her garments. She didn’t seem to have a set of keys on her person! Oh no! What a pickle I’m in! she thought in a panic.

    “She is one of ours,” a spooky voice said.

    She wrapped her blanket tightly around her shoulders. “No, I’m not! I belong to the Lord!” she affirmed with more bravado than she felt. While breathing in frightened gasps, she turned her attention to the Lord of the worlds, believing him to be within reach.

    “That’s a laugh!” said the spooky voice. “You haven’t served the Lord in your life and it’s too late now! You’re dead!” He laughed like a hyena. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

    A cold chill came over Carol as she remembered her children and grandchild gathered around her bed. Then her husband had kissed her on the forehead. She had fallen asleep. Then she was all better, hiking one of her favorite trails…. Or was she?

    Oh my God, I died and went to the next world! What do I know about this world? I do know that Jesus saves. Even though my sins have been many, Jesus died for me. I can have salvation.

    “Let me explain something to you,” said the creature. A hairy man, with ears like a cat, a mouth and nose like a dog with long sharp teeth, squatted right next to her. She could see the greenish tint of his face in the dark. His face and his dark brown robe were wrinkled. He smelled like a pile of rotting horse manure. “Yes, Jesus saves, and it only requires a little prayer, ‘Jesus save me.’ The problem is, you must have a relationship with Jesus in order for that prayer to be heard. I’m sorry, my dear, but you just don’t. You haven’t talked to him since you were a kid. You have to already have a relationship with the Lord before you come here. You can’t start one here. Allow me to escort you to the lower level where you belong! Don’t worry, I’m your troll. You can trust me.” Then he howled like a wolf.

    She was frightened. She was repulsed by the troll. I thought about the Lord today. I heard His words. I will worship Him, she thought. She got on her knees and prayed. She felt the passion of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. She went into contemplation about her career. She was beginning to see that the company she worked for was part of the problem, part of the reason people suffer and are oppressed. She remembered the verse, It is as difficult for a rich man to go to heaven as it is for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. Here she was, a few hours ago, a rich woman on Earth, now in the world of the dead, a troll tempting her, even commanding her, to go with him to hell. She wanted to go to heaven, or at least remain in purgatory, if that is what this is, a prospect as difficult, apparently, as that of a camel going through the eye of a needle. She prayed with all her heart. “Jesus, you performed miracles. You can put a camel through the eye of a needle for me!” she prayed through her tears.

    I’m your troll while you are in this realm. My name is Adolf. Call me if you need anything.” She ignored him and continued praying to Jesus. When she finally looked up, the troll was gone, She smelled a glorious perfume and thought she sensed the presence of Christ. She lay and felt the energy of her prayer and remembered the words from the Sermon on the Mount. She thought about her family. She felt many regrets and longings. The night passed.

END of Chapter One. Thirty more chapters here.

Independent Investigation of Truth

The independent investigation of truth is a principle that I value very highly. I remember scrutinizing a slightly older couple, when I was about 23 years old, who were testifying to me on a street corner, while vehicular traffic was blocked off for some event. They were trying to convince me to give my heart to Jesus. Hadn’t I already done that? Don’t they know? Do they worship the same Jesus I do? If so, couldn’t they tell I already belong to him? If not, who or what has trapped them in a veil of presumption and  unawareness?

There are a few things about fundamentalist Christianity that I balk at. One of them is taking on a posture of submission on a street corner. Didn’t Jesus himself say, it is hypocritical to do your penance in public? 

I knew then about the independent investigation of truth, even though I may not yet have heard the words spoken, nor seen them in writing. This brings me to a very important point. Your own intuition is a very important part of your investigation of, and understanding of reality. But don’t just take my word for it, What do you think? Can you understand your life, your purpose, and the world around you, with nothing more than eyesight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch?

In order to understand life, I need, smell, hearing, sight, touch, taste, intuition, thinking, someone to explain it, or the right book? Check all that apply. I found that I checked all the above, although somewhat reluctantly when I got to the last two, because I really want to avoid adopting someone else’s explanation. I want to develop my own. However, sometimes I can read or listen to someone else’s ideas and be inspired by them. 

Of course that doesn’t always happen. Sometimes I can listen to someone, thank them for their time, turn and walk away, then blog, decades later, about how presumptuous and unaware they were.

Here’s another quiz: Which of the following people are (or were) sincere good-hearted human beings? No, nevermind, I can’t do that. I was going to name some prominent politicians and media stars. A better question is, who do you admire and why? Do you seamlessly adopt whatever that person says into your own thought process? And conversely, is there anyone for whom you categorically refute everything the person says?

A human tendency is to pick a side, as if life were a football game, cheer one team and boo the other. True independence requires more than that. But maybe not everyone wants independence. Perhaps others value the camaraderie of belonging to a political party, even though their allegiance to one segment of the population alienates the rest of us. My purpose in writing this essay is to troubleshoot independent thought, exploring what sets it apart from dogma. 

Dogma is a set of ideas that are accepted unchallenged on the merits of the perceived station of its source. If I am to accept someone’s ideas unchallenged, I must first recognize the station of the person or entity promulgating the teaching. To recognize the station of the issuing agency requires investigation. If they are so high and holy that I can just take their word for it, they practically have to be God. For anyone else, every point they make has to be logical, proven, and stand up to scrutiny. And yes, I will also use my intuition. I will separate myself, go into meditation, and let the spirit lead me. 

It has been an interesting ride for the past couple of years. What is truth? I have asked that question perhaps even more than usual. I looked up death statistics and was unable to find any change in the rate when factoring in population density. I noticed a lot of media repetition of what I was beginning to suspect was a false narrative. It began to appear that all the media had been co-opted by monied interests. In place of news, I heard a carefully scripted advertisement for pharmaceuticals, using words like, “safe,” and, “effective,” with no proof whatsoever, other than, “because I said so.” What? I’m supposed to trust you after you tried to kill us with opiates?

I noticed that politicians who are funded, in their campaigns, by the weapons industry, agree with me on this. However, on other issues, like peace and democracy, these same people definitely do not agree with me! I noticed that politicians, who pay lip service to issues of human rights and human welfare, disagree with me on this issue, even though, in the past, I had felt more drawn to them on issues relating to the environment and education. I formulated the theory that perhaps those particular politicians are kept in their places by the pharmaceutical and food industries. I began to see the world run by the petroleum industry, divided into two competing camps: petroleum-based weapons, versus petroleum-based farming and pharmacy. I began to suspect that both industry and government leaders are a consortium of psychopaths and psychopath enablers. 

Some of them pretend to be sympathetic with desperate people from the south whose ancestral lands have been appropriated by big ag, and others don’t even pretend. But none of them do anything to address the cause of the problem. God help us find a way to fix this!

Thanks for reading!

Let’s Talk About Sex

I was young, 12, maybe 13. I had not begun to develop, no pubic hair, no budding breasts. I was traveling by myself on the bus, changing buses in San Bernardino, on my way to Los Angeles, where my Uncle Harry would meet me and take me to Pasadena for a visit with my cousin, Mary.

I was in a sort of park area waiting for the bus. A man, probably in his 40s, but who seemed old to me at the time, asked me to let him put it between my legs. I knew what “it” referred to from dirty jokes my friends had told me at school. I walked away to wait inside the terminal.

My emotions were a jumble of conflicting feelings that have taken time to sort out. I was flattered, aroused, surprised, confused, exasperated, disgusted, offended, horrified, afraid, embarrassed and ashamed. I even felt obligated, although fortunately I didn’t act on that feeling. I was ashamed because I didn’t understand the flattery and arousal components of my reaction. The disgust and horror part made sense.

Now I have an old man of my own (although he is a few years younger than me). I still have a similar jumble of emotions when it comes to sex. I want to please him, I want to be pleased, etc.

Beyond sex, living with a significant relationship is an emotional rollercoaster at times, because we both trigger each other in ways that are not apparent on the surface. During the first decade, approximately, of our relationship and eventual marriage, we would get into screaming fights that made no sense considering the passion of our love.

I must have been reminded of my father’s intelligence and wit in conversations with Jim, and perhaps that is part of the attraction. But when he is unhappy about something and airs his grievances to me, I find myself reacting as if I were a child being scolded by my father. I didn’t understand it until very recently. When my father was unhappy and manifested that bitter, winy tone of voice, I would be scared, angry, desperate to say something, anything, that would get me out of a beating. I knew I would be in a world of pain. 

That doesn’t happen anymore. Jim has never hit me or touched me in anger. My elaborate defense is totally unnecessary. 

Making Backing Tracks

Today (Friday, August 13) I discovered tempo changes only change the first 50 bars. Bar 51 and beyond reverts back to the original tempo. This flaw makes the app unusable for my purposes. At least I was able to export my files as standard MIDI files.

I’ve been busy making backing tracks for my compositions. I had previously made a book of 60 songs that I’ve written. Now I’m making backing tracks for them. I have already made 47 out of the 60. This next one is number 48. I’m using Walk Band on a tablet to make bass and percussion tracks that are used for rehearsals and may also be used for recordings and performances, with my woodwinds player and husband, Jim Igo.

(The book is not for sale. I just made it for myself and band mates.) The song I am about to make a backing track for is called Proclamation.

The song is subtitled Gleanings because it contains some fragments from the Gleanings From the Writings of Bahá’u’lláh. It has 5 verses. I will use an instrumental verse for the intro and another for the outro, so my backing track will have 7 verses. I will describe my struggles with the backing tracks, using the current one as an example.


I started out using Musescore. I made the sheet music for my songbook with Musescore, and then I made a number of the backing tracks with Musescore as well. Then I exported the tracks as MIDI files, and played the MIDI files on my phone at our practice site at a nearby park. My phone ran out of memory, so I got a tablet, and used that, but I couldn’t find a program that would enable me to edit the MIDI files, make tempo changes and other small adjustments, except I did try Walk Band for that, but it changed the MIDI files to the point where it was frustrating. It changed the instrumentation around. It was pretty hard to predict what I would get, so I realized I would have to make the files on Walk Band if I was going to use that app to play them. It was quite a process of learning. I think the app is for playing an “instrument” such as
“piano”, “guitar”, “bass” or “drumkit” on a phone or tablet instead of using the actual instrument. You could get 4 or 5 people together, each with a phone or tablet running Walk Band and have a “band”. That is not my purpose. I play a real guitar and Jim plays a real sax, flute or clarinet. I just need a recorded track of bass notes as a substitute for the bass player we don’t yet have, and ditto for percussion. It would be nice to be able to vary the tempo and the relative volume of the various tracks on the MIDI file. But I don’t want a bass to morph into a piano and vice versa.


I downloaded several music apps to my tablet but Walk Band was the only one that I was able to get to record notes without a MIDI keyboard. Once I realized this is the way it is, I set about to learn the capabilities and limitations of the app. I tried the various ways of entering notes — and there are several. The way I find most useful is to touch squares on a grid. I power up the tablet and touch the Walk Walk Band icon to open the app.

Icons for some of the instruments appear.

I choose Multitrack Synth.

I get a list of music I have already developed, and the choice also of starting a new song, or creating from a recording. I am starting a new song so I select that option. A form pops up with fields for name, time signature and so on.


The name field defaults to a date and time. I want to name the file with the actual name of the song, so I touch next to the M of PM, a keyboard comes up. I hit the backspace to remove the date and time and type Proclamation. The time signature defaults to 4/4, which is what I want for this song, so I leave it alone. Measures (meaning number of measures) defaults to 10. I want many more than that. I touch inside the box, a drop down list appears with 10, 20, 30, 40 and 50. so I choose 50, which will probably not be enough, but I can add more later. At this point I must close the keyboard in order to look at the last field. I do this by touching the down pointing triangle at the bottom of the screen.


The last field is BPM (beats per minute – tempo). The default is 80, which happens to be what I want. But even if I wanted a different tempo, I would still choose 80, and I’ll tell you why.
Because on another piece that I previously made a track for, using this app, I wanted a faster tempo, so I figured, I’ll just just go for 120 beats per minute. When I got to the end of the 50 bars that you can add at this point, and needed more measures, I had the opportunity to add more measures in the part of the program that opens next, and so I did, but assumed the default would be the tempo I had already set. So here I am checking out my great background which I thought I was all finished, and all of a sudden the temple slows to a crawl! What’s up with that? What was up with that was the new measures I had added were at 80 beats per minute and the original measures I had added from the beginning were at 120 beats per minute! It was a very unpleasant lesson because I had already done a lot of programming on the track, not realizing that the temple had gone awry. I couldn’t find a way to fix it other then to erase all the work I had done and start over! Now, no matter what tempo I want I let it stay at 80 for now, because once I’m finished recording the track, I can change the temple for the whole thing, but if I should forget that every time I add more bars I need to put in the temple I want specifically, not just accept a default, then it’s a real mess that cannot be fixed except by starting over.

I touch OK. I touch the + in the upper left corner of the next screen. I want to create a bass line, so I touch the bass icon.

This next screen is a playable bass guitar game. I’m not much of a gamer, I just want to get to the next screen. If I push the back arrow, I’ll just get back to where I started. So I hit the red
dot.

There are 3 clicks of a count-in while displaying the numbers, 3, 2, 1. As soon as that is over, I touch any string at any fret 2 or 3 times, then touch the stop button which is where the red dot used to be. Then I push the back arrow. The bass guitar icon is now on the left of the screen under the back arrow and above the +.

I touch the bass guitar icon. A menu opens up. I touch Edit Track.

I scroll down to find the notes I entered near C2. I spread the screen apart with my fingers to make the notes bigger. I touch one of the blue boxes. Then I push delete. I continue deleting notes until they are all gone. Now I am ready to enter the notes I actually want. (If there is another way, other than this round-about way, to get here, I haven’t discovered it.)

I contract the screen again, keeping C2 visible on the left. I find the 3 at the top of the screen. I will start the bass part near this measure, reserving the first two bars for a count-in (and include the first bar of the score). I consider the style of the piece. If it were a blues or a shuffle, I would need to input 16th notes, then quantize them to triplet 8ths after I complete the inputting of the track. However, for this piece, regular 8th and 16th notes will be fine, if I decide to include any. I decide to use a quarter note on the first beat of every measure and another quarter note on the third beat of every measure. I could use a walking bass, but that might be too “busy” for this piece. The first beat bass note will be the root of the chord. The third beat bass note will be the 5th of the chord. The chord of the second measure (which will be the 3rd measure of this track) is E. The range of the bass guitar goes down to E1, but I decide to use E2 for this note. I touch the screen opposite E2 and just to the right of the line under the 3. Then I touch NEW on the menu that appears on the bottom of the screen. Since the next chord is a B (the 5th of E) I decide to use the 3rd of E for the note on the 3rd beat of measure 3. I touch the screen to the right of G#2 for the 3rd beat bass note of measure 3, then touch NEW.

Measure 4 of my bass track is going to correspond with measure 3 of my sheet music. The chord is Bm. I decide to use B1 for the 1st beat bass note. I push the screen to the left and input F#2 on the 3rd beat. I continue to input bass notes from the chords on the score. Each measure number on the score is 1 less than its corresponding measure number on the track… I have completed entering the first verse of the song, through measure 18 (which corresponds to bar 17 on the score). I push the back button. I want to save the file, so I push the back arrow again, and choose Ok on the menu that pops up. (Choosing Cancel would have erased everything I had done since my last save.) I now choose Proclamation to continue building the track.


I must divide the beginning and the end of the first verse. I spread out the screen and position the 3 in the middle of the top of the screen. Then I touch the blue band under the 3. Then I touch SPLIT.

With a finger, I move the scissors handle directly under the line to the immediate left of the 3. Then I touch SPLIT a second time. Now I move the screen to the left to find measure 18.

I touch the blue band somewhere between 18.3 and 19. There needs to be a gap between this split and the beginning of measure 19 or the verses won’t fit against each other. Then I touch SPLIT at the bottom of the screen, and touch SPLIT again.
Now I touch the blue band to the right of the 19, and touch DELETE.


Now I touch near the end of the blue band, and touch DUPLICATE. The beginning of the white line needs to be under the line to the immediate left of the 19. If not, I touch the 2nd verse and then touch MOVE and with a finger move it into place. (If the first verse is too close to the 19, I have to split more off of the end of it, then select and delete the fragment.


Touch the guitar icon and the Edit Track, scroll down to C3 or C2. If the notes are blurred together (like above), something is wrong.
Push the back arrow and select and delete the second verse, then look at the edit screen again. Sometimes it’s not possible to line it up perfectly enough. I just continue adding verses until there are 7, lining them up as best I can. When I run out of measures, I touch the + in a circle on the top right. 7-16 bar verses plus a 2 bar count-in will require 114 measures. Add 50 then add 20.
Touch the + on the left and choose Drum Machine to add a drum track.

Touch the red circle and record 114 bars. Now with my tablet, guitar, and a battery powered amplifier, I can play and perform this song anywhere!

What is real science?

When science becomes a prescribed opinion it isn’t science. Science is an independent investigation. An opinion that has been disseminated, is that the cold virus, current for the last two years almost, is capable of spreading from people who feel and appear healthy. 

I have never experienced a virus that comes through me and gets other people sick without making me sick first. Is that a fact? But I’ve never seen it. Honestly, I don’t believe it. I want proof. That is something I have never ever seen. I have heard opinions to the contrary. I really think it is a matter of opinion, not of fact. 

Is this what the Americans and Chinese were collaborating together on in the Wuhan lab? Is that what, “gain of function” is? Is it being able to spread through people who have no symptoms? Why are Americans collaborating with Chinese on bio weapons? There really are more questions than answers.

Without this dangerous property, mask wearing or vaccine taking for a variant on the common cold would make no more sense now than it ever has before.

70-75 years ago more babies were being born than had been normal up to that time. They called it the baby boom. This may be a factor in why there are more deaths now than had been normal up to this time. This is a mortal realm. We’re not here forever. Death happens. And no amount of distancing, masks or vaccines are going to stop it. 

Can we make peace with our mortality? Yes, I am going to die at some point. All my friends and relatives are going to die at some point. Death can be postponed sometimes but not avoided completely. That being stated, I can avoid reckless behavior that makes an earlier death more likely. I can care for myself, and those I love in ways that will tend to prolong our lives.

Eating healthy food, drinking quality water, avoiding addictions, exercising frequently, getting fresh air and sunshine, having a positive outlook on life, making time for activities I love, staying connected to God and those I love are some of the ways I stay healthy.

Of course a long life isn’t everything, as people will quickly point out when I lecture them about dangerous vices. Quality of life is important too. I like not being sick. I like having a small body size. I like having the energy to do the things I love, like blogging and making music. 

I don’t trust the pharmaceutical industry. They overcharge people. They suppress their own drugs once the patents expire. They suppress anything natural that can’t be patented. Anything that does have (or has ever had) a patent on it has been engineered somehow. I don’t want engineered substances in my body! I want unadulterated plants and natural water with natural minerals! 

I don’t trust the advertising of the pharmaceutical industry. Okay a novel corona virus. What I see is the same amount of cold and flu there always is. Okay, remind me numerous times about the new cold virus every time I look at social media, email, the web, radio or TV. Without “Covid 19” popping up in my face numerous times per day every time I expose myself to the media, would I ever think about it? Not likely.

People I know get sick and die, but that always happens. No more now, no less. One friend of mine got sick right after getting his covid shot and died a few weeks later. They are calling it a cancer death, even though they never said anything about cancer while he was alive. I miss my friend. They are skewing the statistics imo. 

DMSO

DMSO (dimethyl sulfoxide) was discovered by Alexander Zaytsev, a Russian chemist, in 1866. DMSO can be derived from waste products in the production of paper from wood pulp. It is also formed in the earth’s atmosphere, and is a phytochemical present in many plants and trees, including garlic. DMSO is a clear, viscous liquid with a garlic-like taste and odor.

In 1978, the FDA (the Food and Drug Administration of the United States) approved the use of DMSO in a 50/50 mixture with water as an effective treatment for interstitial cystitis, an often painful condition involving inflammation of the inner lining of the bladder (as told in, DMSO the Universal Healer, by Kendra Nathan). The bladder may be irrigated with a DMSO solution, or the patient may apply it topically to the lower abdominal and pelvic area, or even take it orally, for instance one teaspoon of 99% strength DMSO in a glass of cranberry juice daily for two or three weeks. According to Kendra Nathan, this brings relief and healing to many, with or without the (often painful) bladder irrigation.

Since the discovery of the substance, it has been noted that getting some on one’s hand will result in a garlicky taste in one’s mouth a short while later. DMSO has many uses in veterinary medicine which taks advantage of DMSO’s ability to harmlessly travel within the body, either by itself, or conducting another medicine that is mixed with it. Since DMSO is a naturally occurring chemical, it cannot be patented. Therefore getting the FDA to approve DMSO for additional uses in human medicine is difficult, as long as the current corporate power structure maintains control of the government. Someone has to pay for expensive testing, and without a way to recoup their investment–like they might have if they could hold a patent on the substance–no one is likely to fund $800+ million of testing to “prove” safety and effectiveness. This is the reason for the bias in medicine toward patent medications and away from unpatentable natural substances like DMSO, or even from drugs for which the patent privileges have expired. Natural substances such as vitamins, minerals, herbs and phytochemicals (like DMSO) are not necessarily dangerous and useless, it is just that safety and effectiveness have not been “proven.” Of course those who benefit from the sale of patented medications want to eliminate competition for their overpriced products, and are bound to leverage their considerable fortunes to discredit anything natural, as discussed in, Natural Cures “They” Don’t Want You to Know About, by Kevin Trudeau, and many other books. The pharmaceutical giants even go to great lengths to discredit their own drugs after the patents have expired.

Regarding its use as a treatment for interstitial cystitis, or painful bladder syndrome, DMSO is said to be anti-inflammatory (reduces inflammation), antispasmodic (relaxing), analgesic (relieves pain), able to break down scar tissue, and aid in the transport of other medicines within the body. The fact that DMSO has FDA approval for painful bladder syndrome theoretically allows for other “off-label” uses. However with the current stranglehold the pharmaceutical industry has on doctor education and continuing doctor education, doctors are not likely to prescribe a substance that is not tested and approved for the use prescribed, unless the doctor has done his or her own independent research. There is, moreover, a fine line a doctor must follow in order to keep his or her medical license intact. The AMA won’t allow a doctor to digress far from FDA approved patent medications.

Most likely it will be left up to us to prove the safety and effectiveness for ourselves if we decide to use a natural substance such as DMSO. I can use myself as a lab rat, but I would not do that if I were pregnant or breast feeding, as there is a certain amount of risk involved. The first test that needs to be done, for any chemical we are curious about, is the safety test. The first safety test might be touching a substance that might be helpful, such as DMSO, to a small section of the skin of the person performing the test, and then watching for toxic reactions.

About a year ago I purchased a small roll-on container of 99% pure DMSO from an online supplier of veterinary supplies. The words, not approved for human use, are printed clearly on the container. Now that a year has passed, my time of gingerly applying a little to a small area of skin once in a while, then watching for reactions, has been completed, and I am applying to larger swaths of skin more frequently and watching for my hearing to improve, my arthritis to improve, and my complexion to improve. I’m just starting, so I don’t have much to report, except that I have come to the conclusion, that for me, the substance is harmless in small doses applied externally. These experiments of mine are kind of like mystical experiences in a way. I can tell you my story, but you still have to experience it for yourself. You can’t just take my word for it. You can’t benefit much from my experience, you have to have your own.

It didn’t take me the whole year just to perform a safety test on DMSO. I was also testing other substances, and was concentrating mainly on zinc chloride. A full strength solution of zinc chloride in water stings for a while, when applied to a carcinoma, in my experience. But with 2 or 3 applications over a few days time, the carcinoma will first get scabbier, then heal to a scar. That is what I have found for myself, on numerous carcinomas on me, over the past year, while, during the same time period, exploring the safety of DMSO by applying a little very infrequently. Now that my carcinomas have turned to scar tissue, I need something that will clear up the scars. DMSO has passed my safety test, so now it is time to start a real healing test, applying the substance several times a day (or at least daily), all the while watching for signs of toxicity, as well as evidence of healing.

DMSO, it is widely reported, will readily absorb into the body. My face was wet with aloe vera gel and DMSO earlier today. Very soon after applying, all the wetness either dried or was absorbed into the skin. Judging from what I have read about DMSO, I believe that the DMSO and the aloe were all absorbed. From past experience I believe the aloe by itself would have left behind a sticky residue for a while, No residue was left behind this time. Everything was absorbed completely. Others I have read have used aloe with DMSO with good results. But what if I topped off the brake fluid in the car and also added coolant to the radiator, then applied DMSO to my still grimy hands? Absorbing those toxic chemicals into my skin and blood might have resulted in toxicity within myself. That is one of the precautions for handling DMSO. Thoroughly wash before applying.

However I have not personally demonstrated that applying DMSO to dirty skin will have a bad result. The impurities might be conducted harmlessly through the body and eliminated. After all it has been claimed that DMSO has the ability to cleanse impurities from the body that were already present. That being stated, I am not interested in finding out if used motor oil and other grime can be conducted through my body, and whether or not that would cause a toxic reaction. I will continue to wash before applying DMSO.

According to Nathan, DMSO has a toxicity on the par with ethanol. It is harmless in small doses, although I would hope that, unlike ethanol, it won’t impair your judgement and trick you into taking more after you have taken a little bit! I am still reluctant to take it orally, but I do dab a little on a sore area I have on the roof of my mouth. It seems to help, and other than the garlicky taste–which my husband hasn’t commented about yet–it doesn’t seem to hurt.

DMSO is a sulfur containing compound with a similar chemical structure to MSM. The formula for DMSO (dimethyl sulfoxide) is (CH3)2SO. The formula for MSM (methylsulfonylmethane) is (CH3)2SO2. Sulfur helps detoxify the body. According to Nathan, DMSO helps remove heavy metals such as, mercury, lead, aluminum, cadmium, arsenic, and nickel, from the body. DMSO bonds with the metals and escorts them through one or more of the body’s channels of elimination.

I have been spitting up phlegm lately. But I was doing that before I started the twice daily DMSO treatment (within the last few days.) Before I blamed it on the zinc chloride treatment I had been doing. I figured I was eliminating the waste products from the killing of the parasitic worms in my skin that were manifesting as carcinomas. A dermatologist called my itchy scaly areas carcinomas. I could feel biting in those areas. The worms fed on my blood and became engorged. I would scratch the itch and a whole lot of blood would come out, then immediately stop bleeding, like I had scratched through the creature’s stomach and the blood it had gotten from chewing on me came gushing out, then immediately stopped. I think that tiny parasites were there. Doctors call these kind of growths carcinomas and admit that they don’t really know what a carcinoma is. Thank God they are gone now, but scars remain, and I am trying to heal the scars with DMSO. I’m coughing up a lot of phlegm, and believe it is a cleansing, healing reaction to the therapy of the DMSO, not a toxic reaction to the DMSO itself. How do I know the difference? Intuition! I am still using zinc chloride, but I dilute it way down to just water with a little zinc salt in it. I also add a little magnesium chloride and sponge myself down with the slightly salty water.

I will continue to watch for signs of toxicity. Coughing up phlegm is a sign of toxicity. But I believe it is the cleansing that is freeing up toxins to be eliminated. The proof of that will come when my skin clears up. Until then I am going on faith. If after a while my skin doesn’t clear up, I’ll stop and try something else.

The freckles on my face are darker this morning. I spent a couple hours yesterday pulling weeds in the sun. I bit the stickers off the edges of the wide end of a leaf of aloe vera, then pulled the front and back peels apart, and rubbed the gel from each half, of about a square inch of leaf, on my face and neck. Then I applied 99 percent DMSO roll-on over the aloe. I figure I made about a 50/50 recipe of aloe and DMSO directly on my face and neck. Now I’m letting it dry. In a few minutes I’ll add a salve I have been using for the last few years made from MSM lotion, zinc oxide, calcium carbonate, red iron oxide, and a little yellow iron oxide to match my skin tone. I have a lot of healing yet to do and the salve hides as it heals. The scaly dry patches are now replaced with pink scars. I had to treat the carcinomas one or two at a time with zinc chloride. If I tried to do more than two or three at once, the pain was unbearable and I would rub or wash off the zinc chloride before it was through working. To have finally completed that process after years is a milestone! Before the zinc chloride, which I started about a year ago, I used Cansema from an Equadorian supplier. It worked, but only if I wore it day and night for several days, walking around, doing my business with dark brown stuff on my nose, cheek or forehead. That got tiresome. I wanted something transparent that would work with my flesh colored zinc oxide and iron oxide salve. I found that in the zinc chloride. Prior to the Cansema, I used trichloracetic acid. That worked too. All three methods of carcinoma removal hurt like the dickens for a few minutes after application and leave scars. The trichloracetic acid creates a huge scab that lasts about a week before it starts to get smaller then eventually heals. I have also been treated with liquid nitrogen at dermatologist offices. Liquid nitrogen also hurts when applied, makes a thick scab that eventually goes away, and often either leaves a scar or the carcinoma comes back. I saw a dermatologist a few months ago and then I started getting scary letters from Medicare that I could be billed as much as $1000. Therefore I have not arranged a follow up. The time before that, several years earlier, I had several squirts of liquid nitrogen (and a biopsy or two) and it took me a year to pay off the cost.

I’ve been thinking, this could be Paradise right here right now. If I look at it that way it becomes that way. Maybe we allow psychopaths to rule us because we find them entertaining in a buffoonish sort of way. There are plenty of lovely people to pay attention to, lovely plants and lovely animals, a wonderful world, and plenty of nice things in it.

THE MORAL ECONOMY AND THE IDEA OF AMERICA Most of this book is about what happens when markets are so concentrated and dysfunctional that monopolies overtake politics and courts and schools, crush people’s spirits, inflame racism, create more poverty and inequality, destroy journalism, and elevate a few men (and even fewer women) to powerful, unaccountable positions governing us. Obviously, it is urgent that we stop this trend, using antitrust, among other tools. But we should aim our sights higher than just creating not-terrible markets; we should seek to enable markets that are actually part of our freedom, spaces for creativity, compassion, and warmth. Anti-monopolism is not just a way station on a quest to get rid of markets altogether, but an essential component of a free society. Break ‘Em Up, Recovering Our Freedom From Big Ag, Big Tech and Big Money, by Zypher Teachout, 66% into the book.

Excellent book, but there are more areas than big ag, big tech, and the big banks. Teachout did have a short section on big pharma in which she tells of a very likable man in his 40s who died because he couldn’t afford his insulin. Big defence would be another, and there is some information about that in the book also. I think the next step after reading Break ‘Em Up, and becoming aware of the problem of monopoly, would be to formulate a plan for breaking them up. Where do we start? Monopolies are entrenched in every industry, squeezing out competition, wringing the life out of workers, cheating suppliers, overcharging customers, and sullying the souls of managers, owners, investors, and regulators. What is the first monopoly to break up? They are all so big that the repercussions from spinning off the acquisitions and mergers in one monopoly will affect everything else in the economy. Maybe they all have to be done at once. Reorganize every monopoly into its component parts on paper only and set a date for the real changes to take effect. Break them up. This has to be done!

They can do it themselves. They can be required to submit a plan to the attorney general by a certain date, then implement it by another certain date, maybe a year for the whole thing. Facebook has to spin off WhatsApp and Instagram. Google has to spin off YouTube. Amazon has to spin off Whole Foods. And that’s just the beginning.

The pharmaceuticals industry is monopolized around patents. It is time to stop the bias favoring patented products over natural products for healing and health. Natural products should also be tested and their benefits proven. The standard jargon that there is no scientific evidence for a natural product being effective for a health condition needs to change. The evidence needs to be investigated and documented, not swept under the rug. The government bureaus in charge of health and disease need to be cleared of personnel with ties to the pharmaceutical industry, and include people who have a healthy scepticism of pharmaceutical products. The censorship and propaganda needs to stop. This country was founded on freedom of speech, or so we were taught. What happened to it lately? Does the media serve any purpose other than selling pharmaceutical products? You gatekeepers should be ashamed of yourselves for keeping out the truth and amplifying the propaganda! How do you sleep at night?

BUYER BEWARE!

When I looked up the balance of my eBay credit card, in order to make the payment, in early February of this year, I was surprised by how much debt I had accrued. I recognized everything on the statement, except a $102.15 payment to OCEANMISTSHOP. I called the number on the statement and spoke to a female representative at Ocean Mist, who gloated sarcastically at the trap I had fallen into. “Did you read all the fine print in the documentation?” she sneered, triumphantly announcing, “You agreed to a subscription of a bottle of CBD oil every month!”

“That’s not true,” I countered, now remembering  a CBD purchase. “I only agreed to receive one bottle, and I only agreed to pay the shipping charges!”

I had responded to a pop-up ad on Facebook. It had a picture of Bill Maher. The ad stated that the pharmaceutical companies were suing Bill Maher because he was undercutting them with his inexpensive CBD oil, which was supposedly better than prescription drugs for just about everything. “CLICK HERE for 1 oz of high quality  CBD oil for the cost of shipping alone!”

The representative at Synchrony Bank, whom I spoke with after completing the call to Ocean Mist, wanted to know what proof I had to back my assertion that I had been quoted one price for a product, and billed another. Unfortunately, I have none. The whole page had disappeared once I put in my credit card numbers. I  received no email confirmation, or even a prompt from the webpage that the transaction had gone through. I wrongly assumed that the whole thing had fallen out, until about a week later, I received one ounce of caprylic acid that contained a small amount of CBD, in the mail. Still not wise to the game, I wrongly assumed that I was being billed around $7 for shipping.

Unfortunately, I threw out the shipping box, but still have the bottle. It says, “Ceremony CBD Oil, broad spectrum hemp extract, 1 Fl Oz (30 ml), 300 mg cannabidiol, THC free, other ingredient: caprylic triglycerides from coconut.” The Phoenix address of Ceremony CBD is on the bottle, and their phone number (which is different from the Maryland number I called to reach the Ocean Mist representative). 

The next time I put a credit card number into a web form, I took pictures of every page of the transaction. A day or two later, I verified that the billed amount matched the amount I had agreed to pay.

I can’t use this CBD oil, or any coconut products, anymore because my triglycerides were high in a lab test (even though I’m a vegan). Fortunately, the “subscription” was stopped after the first shipment, and, to prevent any more charges from Ocean Mist, Synchrony Bank issued me a new credit card.

300 mg CBD is 0.01058219 oz, which means the 1 oz bottle is 99% refined coconut oil, very expensive, and for me, internet shopping course tuition!

I now understand that beloved comedian, Bill Maher’s name was used on this product without his permission.