Stop Making Yourself Miserable

David Richman
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Weekly short learnings, perspectives, thoughts, and ideas to consider and reflect upon. These are not meant to be teachings, but innovative ideas that you might want to consider to see where they lead. So, absorb the information, keep your eyes, mind, and heart open, and watch what happens.

  1. 09/12/2025

    EP 128 - The Friend at the End - Part VI

    As we ended the last episode, the doctor had told me to eat, and oh man, did I start eating. Looking back on it, I call it 'Healing in the Beehive," because they put me on a standard American diet loaded with carbohydrates and sugar. And I loved every bit of it. Cheeseburgers, tuna melt sandwiches, cookies, cake, pie a la mode. You name it. It was like going down a nostalgic memory lane of the favorite foods of my childhood. I stayed in the hospital for a total of ten days. They explained to me that I had suffered a massive stroke, but for some reason, call it grace, luck or both, the huge blood clot that had caused it found its resting place in my lower right cerebellum. Although that part of the brain is responsible for movement and balance, and the clot had destroyed a large portion of it, it landed in a place that did me no lasting harm, except for a very minor visual impairment. It wiped out a small portion of my left peripheral vision, which just happens to have been where I started seeing that light in the beginning that started the whole thing. During my stay in the hospital, it seemed like everyone who was taking care of me reminded me again and again of how lucky I had been. It was kind of funny because I really didn't have that much of a direct connection to my actual situation. I mean in my experience, I did have a day or two of being pretty out of it, but that's about it, I was pretty out of it. And then the next thing I knew, I felt fine. Of course, Sally knew what had really happened because she had lived through it. But in essence, I kind of slept through it.  And if I hadn't been told how sick I'd been and how close to death I had actually come, I would never have known it.  Anyway, during the hospital stay, it seemed like I was constantly presented with reminders of my situation . One night, for example, they brought me a piece of cherry pie ala mode, which was always one of my most favorite desserts,  and I always get it with vanilla ice cream. Early on, that combination of cherry and vanilla had become a central part of my happy reward center.  When I got to dessert and uncovered the plate, I saw that it had chocolate ice cream on the pie rather than vanilla. It was a bummer, but hey, I could handle it.  "Oh," I said, somewhat disappointed as I looked at the plate. A doctor was in the room, just finishing up his quick exam of me. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Oh nothing," I replied. "It's just that they brought me the wrong ice cream. I like vanilla on my cherry pie and they brought me chocolate. It's no big deal." "Do you know where you are?" the doctor asked me, quizzically. "Sure," I replied, "I'm in the hospital." "You're in the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital of Neuroscience. You've had a massive stroke and you're in the intensive care unit," he corrected me. "And you know what? Most people get carried out of here or they get wheeled out. And it looks like you're going to just stand up and walk away from all this." He wasn't confrontational at all. He was very nice, but he was clearly making his point. "If I were you," he added, "I wouldn't be thinking too much about chocolate and vanilla anymore." He smiled at me and left the room. I got the message and took it in. It never hurts to be reminded of how fortunate you really are. Finally, my blood levels got to the right point and they decided to let me go. At the end, when I was ready to leave, I was sitting in my room and the head nurse came in to do some final paper work and say good-bye. Her name was Anna. She was in her late-forties and had come over from Russia about 20 years earlier. She saw me several times every day and we had become quite close. "You know, David, we have a folder here that we call the Hand of God Folder and that's where your file's going," she said as she was filling out a form. "It's for cases where a horrible tragedy could have happened, but for some reason it didn't. And we can't explain it. We don't know how these remarkable things happen. If we did we would certainly try to do it ourselves. But we can't. So –we have the Hand of God Folder…" She kept writing and then she looked up at me. "OK, we're done," she concluded. "Now, don't take this the wrong way. You're a very nice person and I'm glad we got to know each other. But I hope I never see you again." She paused for a moment and looked me in the eye. I felt intuitively that she was about to say something deeply meaningful or me, and as soon as she began talking, I knew I was right. "Look, you were here for ten days. I've been here for twelve years, and believe me, I've seen everything. And you really have no idea what happened here and, let alone what you've been spared from. "Let's just put it this way," she continued, "For the rest of your life, if you woke up every morning and before you did anything, you got down on your knees and thanked God for the miracle that happened here, you'd still be understating it. "And even from just a medical perspective, this really was a miracle." She went silent for a moment or two. "And believe me, you'll never be able to come up with the amount of gratitude in your heart that would be appropriate for the gift that you've been given. Never. Ever." Moving me to silence, her words went straight to my heart. "Well, I'm sure you're right." I thought to myself, deeply moved. And then something hit me, "Well, at least I can try." Then another thought hit me, "Not a bad way to spend the rest of your life." "Thank you, dear," I finally said to her. "Thanks for everything." She hugged me, gave me a kiss on the cheek and had me sit in the wheelchair that was mandatory for check outs. She wheeled me out into the hall, where Sally was waiting for me. They talked warmly for a few minutes, then my ever-faithful wife took the chair from her, and with rock-steady hands, wheeled me out to the car and drove me back home. Within a few months, I made a complete recovery from the stroke and was able to return to my normal life once again. It kind of felt like nothing had happened and physically, nothing really had. All my faculties were intact and my life went back to business as usual.           But that was all on the outside. Within myself, I was never really the same again. How could I be? When you've been unexpectantly taken to the Exit Door like that and then you're suddenly given another chance, it can be subtle, but everything on the inside changes. Now, for the most part, we all have our normal routines, our responsibilities, and of course, our hopes and fears. But as the years go on, most of our focus goes to solving our problems, big or small.  It becomes a never-ending process and we can end up taking the best parts of our lives for granted while ignoring the incredible beauty that's within us and around us. For me, that had all come to a sudden, screeching halt and I had been removed from my own routine for quite some time.  Now, as I returned to it, even though externally it was basically the same, with the understanding that I had been given a second chance, I was seeing it with eyes that were drenched with gratitude.    But something else was running through me as well. A feeling kept welling up within, like a powerful current at the bottom of the ocean that you can't see from the surface, but you can certainly feel it if you're standing in it. In this way, deep in the core of my being, I kept feeling a strong determination to make the most out of whatever time I had left. In that regard, as the stroke had begun and I was instructed to prepare to die, at one point I was asked if I had learned anything. And that simple question led me to realize how much I actually had learned about the higher understandings in life. At that point, I felt content with how I had lived and how much I had learned and I quickly came to the conclusion that if my time on Earth was really coming to an end at that point, I felt ready for it.  Now, looking back on these extremely powerful events, I could see that my inner growth, the evolution of my awareness, was clearly the most important part of my life.   And that made perfect sense because everything on the outside, my relationships with my family and friends, my life in the world, in essence who I thought I was and what I was doing, was just a basic reflection of my inner being, which was who I really was, within myself. I understood that I really could have easily died at that point, but I didn't. Instead, I had been given more time and I was starting to grasp what a tremendous opportunity that was. Whether I had a few more months, a few more years or a few more decades, it was becoming clear that my focus was to keep on growing toward the highest. So, I returned to my inner practices with a renewed sense of determination. But I was in for an unexpected and rather pleasant surprise. It had all gotten much easier. Actually, looking back on it, it made perfect sense. A lot of the allure of the outer life had fallen away. A close brush with death has a way of doing that to you. It automatically reorganizes your priorities. Trivial things become really trivial. And what matters most, becomes what really matters the most. Now, my practices still required making effort, but things were very different. It was like what happens when winter starts turning into spring. You have the same back yard, but what a difference. The frost is melting and the frozen stream starts running again. Soon buds appear and the scene becomes filled with beautiful flowers and birds, not to mention the sweet fragrances that continually fill the air. But as beautiful as it is, it still requires conscious effort to tend the garden. But this is a different kind of effort – it's the effort of finding, rather than the effort of searching. Although the outer may seem to remain the same, like a rocket that finally

    14 phút

  2. 02/12/2025

    The Friend at the End - Part V

    Now I was back on my own, just me, myself, and I.  But my attention stayed with my breath as it continued to flow in and out of me.    "As long as I'm breathing, I'll know that I'm still alive," I thought.    Now, I had been meditating for many, many years, and part of that practice is to focus on your breath, but this was completely different.  Before, the breath was a calming presence.  Now, it was literally my lifeline. Breathing no longer felt like an automatic process and I made no assumptions about it.  As each breath went out, it was clear that the next one might not be coming in. Instead of just feeling an automatic, mechanical motion, it felt more and more like each breath coming into me was like I was receiving some kind of a consciously given gift. After some time, I started feeling a little better. My eyesight problem was still the same, but my system seemed to have stabilized a little. I got up and walked around the pool for a bit. I kept feeling better and better, but I still could barely see. I could make out the time on my watch and was surprised to see that the whole episode had happened in about 30 minutes. My wife, Sally, hadn't even come down to the pool yet. I decided to relax and see if I kept feeling better. Maybe my eyesight would clear up and it would all just pass. Sally came down about ten minutes later and she was pretty alarmed when she saw me. I felt a lot better, but she was very concerned. After a little while, she convinced me to go back up to our apartment with her and get into bed. I must have dozed off for a while because the next thing I knew, our family doctor walked into our bedroom. He was actually a member of our pool and when he got there for the day, some friends told him what was happening with me.  He called Sally and she asked him to come up and give me a quick exam. I was surprised to see him. I asked him if he was planning on playing any golf over the weekend. He didn't answer. He just took one look at me and said, "You're going to the hospital right now. " He took my pulse and said to Sally, "Go get an ambulance and tell them it's urgent." When I heard the word "ambulance" I said to Sally, "Make sure they're taking me to Lankenau and not Roxborough," Our condo is on the border between two hospitals. Lankenau is much more of a suburban hospital and Roxborough is located within the city limits. They always tell you to pick Lankenau if you get your choice. She came back in the room in a matter of moments. "OK," she said to me, "They're on their way over and they're taking you to Lankenau." "Is that for certain?" I asked. "Absolutely," she answered. "They understood completely. There's no question about it at all." At that point, a whole different momentum started and I realized that my responsibilities in the world had just come to an end. I was about to become a patient, and the only thing I had to do was cooperate with the people who were about to take care of me. Whatever they told me to do, I would do. It was all out of my hands now. Was I going to live? Or was I about to die? Who could say? I thought I had been feeling better, but from the look on my doctor's face, it was obvious that I was clearly in serious trouble. All that I had left now was my breath. It was the only thing that I could rely upon. "As long as I can feel my breath, I'll know I still have a body," I thought.  "If I'm still conscious, but I can't feel my breath anymore, then I'll know the change has happened and I'll just have to take it from there. But as long as I'm still breathing, I'm still here." The ambulance came within a few minutes and I was on my way.  The next 36 hours were pretty much of a blur. Sally told me later that I wasn't given any drugs or sedatives at all, but I kept drifting in and out of consciousness. They took me to Lankenau, which is one of the top hospitals in our area. But after a CAT Scan, they immediately decided that my condition was critical and rushed me downtown to the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital of Neuroscience in the middle of the night.   They determined that I was long past the point where they could have given me a "clot buster" to take care of the stroke. There was absolutely nothing they could do now but put me in intensive care and monitor me closely. While they hoped for the best, they gravely told Sally to prepare for the worst. "Stay with him. Hold his hand. Talk to him," they said. "We might lose him tonight. Just…just don't let him slip away…" The next thing I became aware of, I was lying in a hospital bed and Sally was holding my hand. When I opened my eyes and looked at her, she looked like she had really been through hell. She told me that I had been out of it for about 36 hours.           "You've had a stroke," she said. "But you're going to be alright," she assured me calmly and kept holding my hand.           I looked around. I was obviously in an intensive care room. I moved every part of my body to see if everything was working okay and it was. I actually felt fine. Two close friends of mine had been through small stroke episodes over the past year. They were mini-strokes. They had to stay in the hospital overnight and then they went home. They were told that it wasn't a big deal. I was pretty sure that's what had happened to me. I felt completely fine. My vision had cleared up, except I had lost a small part of my upper left peripheral vision. But other than that, I seemed fine. Doctors and nurses came and went over the next half hour. They seemed happy to see that I was awake and gave me some very quick exams. One of them told Sally that I seemed to be doing pretty well and that she could take a break. I don't know how long she had been there for, but she decided to go stretch her legs a little and get some coffee. The room that I was in had no windows, so it was impossible to tell what time of day it was. One of the nurses suggested that I relax and doze off for a little. Soon, I was lying in the room by myself. I closed my eyes to take it easy, but I had a funny experience. I found that I had some kind of inner vision. I could clearly see images inside of myself with my eyes closed. I saw an endless parade of black and white sketches. They were all of rabbis dressed in religious clothing, all from centuries long ago.  It was crystal clear. There must have been hundreds of them, one right after another. Black and white sketch after sketch. It went on for a really long time. Then suddenly, instead of sketches, a small grey statue appeared. It was the image of the Madonna holding the Holy Child and it was really exquisite. As I stared at it, it rotated, giving me several different views. Then, all of a sudden, a full color figure burst out of the Madonna part of the statue. And to my shock and surprise, it was Wonder Woman, the comic book character. She was in her red, blue and gold outfit and she was wearing her bright gold crown on her head. She was standing on the ledge of a mountain and I noticed that she was holding a large grey sack. She looked at me, pulled her gold crown down over her eyes like a visor and flew into my brain. I watched as she methodically pulled glob after glob of bloody tissue out of my brain and put it into her sack. This went on for quite a while. Finally, she flew back out of my brain, and landed on the ledge of the mountaintop. She lifted the visor of her crown off of her eyes and put it back on top of her head. She looked at me and even though she was a miniature version of herself, she seemed to be the embodiment of raw power. She gave me a strong salute, grabbed the bag full of bloody brain material and flew away. I must have drifted off to sleep after that, because the next thing I knew, I awoke to Sally holding my hand again. She said I'd been out for about an hour.   *         *          *   Sometime a bit later, a very  important looking doctor came walking into the room. He looked like he was in his middle sixties and was surrounded by about five medical students who were obviously studying under him. He introduced himself to me and told me that he was the actual head of the hospital. He gave me a quick examination and said a few things to his students. Then he sat down on the bed and looked me straight in the eyes. "David," he began. "It's really important that you understand something. What you had was not a mini-stroke or a TIA or anything like that. What you had was a major neurological episode that could have killed you in about three seconds, or maimed you permanently for the rest of your life. "You could have been blinded, paralyzed, lost your ability to speak, or all of it at the same time." I was completely taken by surprise. I had no idea that any of that was true. I had basically been in a very comfortable, dreamy state, with absolutely no sense of danger. "Now it looks like you're going to walk away from this whole thing basically unharmed. But you're going to have to take care of your Atrial Fibrillation. The stroke was a direct result of it," he concluded. "Really?" I asked. "Absolutely," he replied. "There's no question about it. The clot came straight from your heart." I had been diagnosed with atrial fibrillation, an irregular heartbeat, about six months earlier. I had been treated with medication, but apparently it didn't help. "Listen, the chances of walking away unscathed from a stroke of this magnitude are less than one in a thousand. You can't reach back into the deck and pull out another card like this again. You have to take care of the A-Fib when you get out of here. "Which brings me to another point," he continued. 'We're keeping you here for another ten days until we know your blood has been thinned down. We have to protect you from having another stroke. "The next forty-eight hours are critical thou

    15 phút

  3. 25/11/2025

    The Friend at the End (Reprise) - Part IV

    This is the fourth episode in a series based on my upcoming book, The Friend at the End, which tells the story of the major stroke that I suffered in 2011, which very nearly killed me. In the last episode, I had continued my inner conversation with an unseen presence who had begun to introduce me to the idea that I might be dying.           He suggested that I make the effort to get ready, but as I started to consider the idea, I had some trouble with it and felt like I was failing. Then the presence said to me, "Here, let me help you with this. Did 'ja learn anything?           Now, the story continues…   "Did I learn anything?" My God, what a simple little question! And asked in the most casual, way. Like from his tone, he could've just as well asked me if I had eaten a lot of pizza in my life, that's about how important it seemed. My initial reaction was no reaction at all, and I drew a complete blank. But then, something unexpected happened. Suddenly, a series of pictures began appearing in my mind's eye. The pictures were all of me, in different stages of my life. They went through linear time, beginning on the day I was born. There were so many of them, it almost seemed like there was one for every day of my life.  It was weird because they seemed to be moving very fast and very slow at the same time.   Although I clearly recognized each one of them and remembered the experiences they showed, rather than stirring up memories, I was just extracting the essence of the feelings that I'd had during them - happy, sad, amazed, confused, and on and on. Finally, after every age of my life and every role that I had played had been presented, the last picture I saw was of me at this very second, sitting in my bathing suit at the swimming pool, looking at all these pictures. Then my mind went back to normal and the episode, or whatever it was, ended. I guess you could call it a life review of some kind. But before I could give it any thought, another image came into my mind's eye. This time, it wasn't a still picture, it was more like a movie, and I was in it and watching it at the same time. I was in a small boat on a river and the boat kept changing forms.  For a little while, it was a standard row boat and I was rowing it. Then it changed to a canoe and I was paddling it. Then it became a small motor boat and I was in the back, steering it by moving the motor. Then it went back to being a row boat again, and it just kept switching forms. All of a sudden, I was teleported up to the inside of an airplane that was flying high above the river. I kept switching viewpoints, from being on the boat to being on the plane. Then, in the next instant, I was rowing the boat down the river and flying in the plane above it, both at the same time. I was in two places at once, and fully conscious of each. The river had a lot of twists and turns to it, and from the viewpoint of being in the boat, you could only see what was in front of you. You couldn't see beyond the next bend. But the vantage point from the plane was totally different. I could see the whole river, all at once. I could look back to where it had begun, I could see all the way forward to the point where it finally merged into the ocean. Then, at one point, all of the pictures of my life that I had reviewed earlier, flashed in front of me once again. But this time, the scenes went by in what seemed like just a few seconds. Then it all vanished from my mind and I was back in normal life, sitting on my chair near the pool. The whole thing had taken me by surprise and it left me with a lot to absorb. Slowly, a series of realizations and understandings began to dawn on me. The first one was that even though I knew that I might be dying and I had just seen pictures from every stage of my life, I felt no real attachment to any of it. It may seem odd, but it's pretty simple. My father had died from a massive heart attack when I was sixteen, and his sudden death forced me to accept the harsh reality of the impermanence of all life on earth. I had no other choice. We all have to go one day, and I had been living with that understanding for almost fifty years, knowing that you just have to surrender to it, come what may. After reviewing all the pictures I had seen, although I felt a lot of happiness and appreciation for the days gone by, they clearly belonged to the past. Looking at them had been like revisiting fond memories of a place that didn't exist anymore, and from experience I knew that there is no real power in memories. The power is in the intelligence that is doing the remembering. So, from the perspective of looking back on my life, if my time had actually come, I had no regrets about it. There was nothing left undone and what will be, will be. I moved from thinking about the pictures to reflecting on the whole sequence with the boat on the river and the plane flying above it, and some profound realizations came to me. While riding in the boat, the turns in the river were like going through all the day-to-day experiences of my life. Like everything else that is subject to time, they all came and went, seeming so real while they lasted, only to eventually fade away, like a passing dream.  And the fact that the boat kept changing forms represented the way that my body and mind had kept changing forms as I went through the natural growth cycle from baby to adult and beyond. The fact that I could never see beyond the next bend in the river was a reminder of the uncertainty we all face in our lives. No matter what we hope or expect, we can never really know what's coming around the next corner. But the view from the plane was the opposite. From there, I could see the whole river from beginning to end, and my intuition told me that the entirety of the river itself represented my conscious awareness, my essential self, as it passed through all the twists and turns of my life. This was critically important for me because I had always felt that there must be some higher purpose to life other than just running around trying to fulfill your dreams and desires. Otherwise, it just didn't make any sense, because no matter what you end up getting, you lose it all in the end anyway.   Of course, we all have our own personal views, but for me, the idea really got driven home by my father's death. Not only was it a major shock, but there were also some very unusual and rather metaphysical things that happened to me during it that made me feel that there was more to life than meets the eye. By the age of twenty-two, I had begun a serious study of all the higher understandings about life that I could find, including practicing a powerful form of mediation that helped accelerate my inner growth. Nurturing and expanding my higher awareness had remained the primary focus of my entire adult life. Now, as I was pondering the idea of the flow of the whole river representing the evolution of my consciousness, I realized how much I had grown as a human being in my life. I had gone from having the dull consciousness of a shallow creature, almost robotically programmed into ignorance by an unenlightened society, into one who had explored the depths of his being, connected with the higher awareness within, and had led a profound life, filled with meaning, freedom, fulfillment and ever-expanding inner growth and happiness. Of course, there had been an endless amount of twist and turns along the way, but because I had been growing, the challenging ups and downs had only made me stronger. And now, like a farmer who had been nurturing his crops for a very long season, I was deeply gratified with the yield. "My God, this certainly wasn't a wasted trip," I thought. "What a life of learning!" And with that thought, the unseen power of my unseen friend's casual question really hit me. His simple, off-hand inquiry, "Did 'ja learn anything" had triggered all this, bringing the value of inner growth to the forefront and making it clear that while you may have to leave it all at the end, you do get to keep what you learn, because that evolution of your consciousness becomes an actual part of you. Now, the most important point became clear to me. I was deeply grateful for the life I had been given and had made the most of it. I had grown into a better human being and was satisfied with the person I had become. I felt complete.  Then I thought of the image of the river again and pictured it merging into the ocean, and I recalled something I once learned in school. The ocean has a powerful, magnetic attraction that draws the river towards it, pulling it back into its source.  As it gets closer to the ocean, the current of the river gets stronger and it starts flowing faster and faster, almost like it can't wait for the merging to happen. There was something not only comforting, but also enticing about the idea, and I felt that if my personal river was about to merge into the vastness of its original source, I was ready for it. Bring it on. Then, with a sublimely steady sense of clarity in my heart and mind, I finally turned my attention to my unseen friend and said with calm assurance, "OK. If this really is the end of my life, then the answer is - yes, I am ready,"            "Good," it said. "Good."           Once again, everything went quiet and still. I figured my life was over and we'd be leaving soon for whatever came next. "OK, now listen," it said, somewhat softly "This may not make sense to you now, but the truth is, no one knows whether you're going to live or die from what's happening to you.  It's just not known at this time. It can go either way. You could get better quickly or you could get taken out just as quickly. It's just not determined yet. But either way, you know how to handle this," it said calmly. "You know what to do now." My awareness shifted and once again I became fully conscious of my body as I was lying on the lo

    15 phút

  4. 18/11/2025

    The Friend at the End (Reprise) - Part III

    This is the third episode in a series based on my upcoming book, The Friend at the End, which tells the story of the major stroke that I suffered in 2011, which very nearly killed me. In the last episode, I had gone down to the pool at our condo for the first day of summer, but I started feeling kind of queasy. My condition worsened, and at one point, to my shock, I lost my eyesight and thought I was going blind.           I soon realized that not only was I in the midst a truly serious health crisis, I was also having a seemingly telepathic communication with an inner presence of some kind. And this presence kept suggesting to me that I might be in the process of dying. As I began to accept the idea, it casually asked me, "Are you ready?"     That was the end of the last episode. This one begins with my reaction to that unexpected question.           "Am I ready? What? Am I ready?"  I responded to myself.             The question caught me completely off-guard and it really threw me. What I thought had been a theoretical conversation had suddenly become a reality and I felt like I'd been shoved off the boat into a freezing ocean and was now in hostile water, surrounded by unknown dangers.           Of course, I knew that things were serious. My vision was shot and being involved in a telepathic communication within my own mind was beyond strange, to say the least. But, as distressing as it was, up until then, it was all just talk. Suddenly, these three little words – are you ready - brought me face to face with my own death, and basically, it scared me out of my wits.           But then, the next thing I knew, my fear quickly turned into anger. And it felt like righteous anger. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live. It was a simple as that. Things were going great; I was in the prime of my life and I didn't see any reason why it should have to end.           After a few more moments, my survival instinct took over and with a strong sense of resolve, I decided to stand and fight. I was done with this whole death thing and I didn't want to hear any more about it. Who was this guy, anyway? And why should I listen to him? I would give this unseen and unwelcomed visitor a piece of my mind.            "Look, whoever or whatever you are," I said to whoever or whatever it was, "Now you listen to me. If you're asking me if I want to die, the answer is no! There is not one atom in my being that wants to die! I don't want to die. I want to live."           Then, having studied the power of crafting a pure intention and clearly expressing it, I decided to make a strong affirmative decree into the universe, of my desire and intention to live.           "I declare that any and all thoughts and fears of death have no part of me whatsoever. I banish them from my consciousness and negate them entirely. I affirm now and forever, my unshakable oneness with the infinite power of the divine energy that is within me."           Then, with every part of my being and from the very depths of my soul, I firmly declared, "I CHOOSE LIFE!!!"           It felt like I had tapped into the faith that can move mountains, and I could feel the power of my intention resonate out into infinity. There was an inherent rightness to it and it was followed by a deeply profound and satisfying sense of inner peace.            "Good answer!" this whatever-it-was said to me a few moments later. "Well done! Very well done indeed!"           "Wow!" I thought, resting in the afterglow of the affirmation. "Okay!"           It was all so simple. Sometimes you just have to stand your ground. You align yourself with the integrity of your being, connect with the power of the universe and make your intention clearly known. Then, everything can change in an instant.             As I thought about it, maybe this whole dying thing had actually been a test of some kind. And maybe I had just passed through an initiation and would be moving into a greater level of consciousness, with a deeper understanding of life. Anyway, whatever it was, test or not, I felt like I had passed with flying colors. My confidence was back. I was on track and I felt great.           "So, look," the presence said, "you've obviously done a lot of inner work in your life and it's clear that you've learned a lot. You made a powerful expression of your intent and will to live, and you did it from your heart. Again, well done! Very well done!           "But David," it continued calmly, "Although, in its place, there is tremendous power in this kind of method, it's only valid up to a point. There's a very important level that's beyond all that."           I didn't know where things were heading, but suddenly something inside of me said, "Uh-oh."           "In the physical world, you do get to choose a lot of things," it continued. "But you don't get to choose the length of your life and you don't get to choose how and when it will end.           "Some flies live for one day, a butterfly for two weeks. Some trees live for thousands of years and stars like the sun can shine for ten billion. But it's all just a matter of degree, because this is a realm of impermanence and nothing here lasts. Sooner or later, one way or another, everything here ends.           "But the source of it all never ends. You can call it God, the Higher Power, or any of the thousands of other terms that people have come up with over the years. Call it what you want, or don't call it anything at all, but this universal power is what is keeping you alive, as well as the rest of creation. And it will decide when it's time for you to go.           "Of course, it's great that you're aware of it, but don't make the silly mistake of thinking that you control it, because you don't. No one does. It's not even close. And by the way, you didn't come here to control it, you came here to surrender to it."           It was a short, concise little talk, but it took the wind right out of my sails. My personal power vanished immediately, like a balloon that was burst by a sharp needle. The presence paused a little to let the information sink in and then continued.           "Now, although you just made a very strong, clear and firm statement, you didn't answer the question that I asked you. I didn't ask what you wanted. I asked you if you were ready. So, let me ask you again – Are you ready? And if you're not, then you better get ready. Because even though on one level, time is just an illusion, on another, it's very real. And the truth is - you're running out of it. So, are you ready?"           The situation had obviously become crystal clear. I had to face facts and let go of the idea that I had any choice left in the matter. That ship had sailed, if it had ever been there in the first place. Clearly, things were in motion now and I had to get my inner affairs in order.           So, was I ready for this? If this really is the end, would anything major be left undone? Might I have regrets? Or even remorse? Whatever. I had to decide if I was ready and supposedly, time was getting short.           It seemed like a ridiculously tall order and I had no idea how to approach it. So, I just asked myself, "Okay, so am I ready?" and I waited to see what happened next.            Something came to mind immediately. It seemed unfair to me that I should have to die so young. Why such a short life? After all, I was only 62 years old and other than today's crazy episode, I seemed to be in great health. And it was all so sudden.           But my thoughts went straight to what happened to my father.  He was only 52 years old when he instantly dropped dead from a massive heart attack, which means that I would still be getting a full ten years more than he got. And talk about sudden, he literally died in a heartbeat. In another moment, the whole unfairness argument went right out the window.           I relaxed a little and waited to see what came up next. Out of nowhere, I felt an enormous wave of gratitude and relief wash over me. The feeling seemed to exist on its own, with no apparent connection to any form of thought. I just felt incredibly grateful and unbelievably relieved, for no noticeable reason.             Then suddenly I realized a critical fact that hadn't occurred to me before - my life insurance policy was in full force and if I did die, my wife and daughter would be well taken care of after I was gone. The feelings of gratitude and relief suddenly made perfect sense. They had just hit my consciousness before any thoughts of explanation had caught up to them. In reality, I can never overstate how much this fact meant to me at this point in time. The relief was far beyond words.           As a writer, I had led a somewhat unconventional life and my financial fortunes had ebbed and flowed over the years - sometimes up and sometimes not so up.           But fortunately, I had always been able to maintain a fairly substantial life insurance policy for them.  To me, this contingency planning had always represented a monument to sane responsibility. From where I was standing now, when it comes to monuments, it made Mt. Rushmore look like a little sand castle.             Thank God my wife and daughter would be financially secure after I died! I knew they would be safe after I was gone, and a deep sense of peace came over me.              It's funny looking back on it, but I didn't feel any anxiety over what would happen to them emotionally after I died. I had learned from experience that death and separation are an inevitable part of life, and we all have a built-in human capaci

    16 phút

  5. 11/11/2025

    The Friend at the End (Reprise) - Part II

    (Reprise Episode) This episode is the second in a series of excerpts from my upcoming book, "The Friend at the End," which tells the story of the major stroke that I suffered in 2011. As the first episode began, I was 62 years old, at a wonderful stage in my life, with everything safe and secure. It was the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend and I was looking forward to the summer, which was just over the horizon.       But when I had gone down to the pool at our condo, after a short while, I started feeling a little nauseous. Soon after, an unusual and disturbing white light appeared in my upper left peripheral vision. At first, I thought the light was coming from somewhere on the outside, but I soon realized that it was coming from within me, which was extremely alarming.  So, that marked the end of the first episode, now the story continues…     In reality, vision impairment is a classic symptom of a stroke, but I just didn't know that at the time. If I had, I would have dropped everything and gone straight to the emergency room. But I didn't have that information.  That's the real   Catch-22 when it comes to knowledge. You never know what you don't know. You just can't. By definition, the unknown remains unknown until you finally find it out. And hopefully, by then, it's not too late.      Anyway, I felt a little tired and laid back down on my lounge chair and tried to relax. I'm not sure what happened next, but I must have drifted off to sleep. I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up and opened my eyes, I was met with a complete shock.  My entire field of vision had radically changed.     I could still see, but it was like looking at the world through a splintered kaleidoscope, a bizarre Picasso painting of bright colors and random fractal patterns. I had never experienced anything like it before and obviously, things had taken a major turn for the worse. It was seriously disconcerting. Oddly though, the feeling of nausea was gone completely. Other than this bizarre vision issue, I felt fine.  I opened and closed my eyes a few times, but nothing changed. I still saw the world in the same splintered, fractal way. I closed my eyes for a moment to try to stabilize myself and the vision suddenly appeared within.    I opened my eyes again, and to my shock and dismay, I couldn't tell whether my eyes were opened or closed. It didn't matter. Opened or closed, my field of vision remained exactly the same. I still saw the same set of broken, fractal lights. What had been bad had suddenly gotten much worse. This was, by far, the most alarming thing that had ever happened to me physically in my life, and immediately, a chilling fear came over me. "Oh my God! I'm going blind!" I thought.  It was earth-shattering. I felt like a bug splattered on a speeding windshield, and my mind went wild with a flood of terrifying images of me, living my life as a blind man. The horrible scene went on for quite a while, before I could finally pull myself together.   "Whatever's going on, this is much worse than I thought," I said to myself, as I recognized how seriously things had deteriorated. "This is bad. This is really bad."  I was stunned and had no idea what to do.  "Yeah, this is definitely much worse than you thought," I thought. "And you know what, it might actually be much worse than you think it is now. Forget about going blind. You might actually be dying. This could be the beginning of the end."  The unwelcomed idea hadn't occurred to me before and it stopped me dead in my tracks. "Now wait a second," I responded, "Let's not go to extremes here."   I quickly tried to pull myself together. Even though I was definitely in bad shape, I certainly didn't want to entertain any thoughts of dying. Why let that in? It couldn't possibly help. So, I quickly decided to put it out of my mind. But a few moments later, it came back again.  "Look, of course, the idea is upsetting to you, to say the least. And obviously dying is the last thing in the world you want to think about. But still…" "But still, what?" I countered, sharply. "Still, you don't really have a choice. The way things are going, at this point you have to consider everything. You really do." Okay, so this was the rational, non-emotional side of my mind talking to me in its rational, non-emotional way. And it was probably right to consider the worst-case scenario. But I instantly dismissed the idea again. Sure, it was normal for me to have had a passing thought that I might be dying, but that's all I wanted it to be - just a passing thought.  As far as the actual reality of it was concerned, I would have none of it.  "No. It can't be. Not like this. Not now. No way." "Well, why not?" Mr. Rationality responded rationally. "You know it's going to happen someday; it has to. There's no way around it. It's written in stone. So why not now? And why not like this? Just because it's sudden and you weren't expecting it, that doesn't mean anything. Look what happened to Daddy."   There was no refuting the logic of it. And bringing up my father was a major factor for me. He had died instantaneously of a massive heart attack at the age of 52, and I'm sure he never knew what hit him. Here one minute, gone the next. I was sixteen years old and along with the terrible shock and grief, it really drove the point home that any one of us can go at any time. Nobody operates with any guarantees here. That's not the way it works.  "You have to understand something," this part of me went on. "There are no rules now and anything can happen." It paused for a moment. "Face it. This really could be the end of the line for you. You very well might be dying." The weight of the reality of death began to sink into me like a ton of wet concrete sliding out of a cement mixer, and it rattled me to the core. Just a few minutes ago, I was facing the fear that I was might be going blind, and that was absolutely devastating. Still, you can learn how to live with it. Millions of people have. But while you can learn how to live with being blind, you can't learn how to live with being dead. No. This wasn't about coming to a major crossroads in my life. This was about coming to the actual end of it, and it was staggering. I was in a whole new world and I knew it.  I started to feel disoriented. "Oh my God!" was the last thing that came into my mind before it went blank. I think I went thoughtless, and it might have been for fifteen seconds, fifteen minutes, or even more.  In that state, who knows? Anyway, at some point, I could think again.  "Could it really be true?" I asked myself, soberly "I mean, could this really be it?" "Well, you can't rule it out," I answered myself. "Look, you've never experienced anything like this before. Things are obviously getting worse, and there's no telling where this might lead. Anything can happen. You just have to face facts."  "Yeah. Okay," I thought, still stunned.  "Listen, Dying isn't a question of 'if,' it's only a matter of 'when.' And as far as what it's going to be like when it actually does happen, well, nobody really knows that until they get there," the rational side said.  "Then you find out for sure."  It was obviously true. We have no idea of what our actual death is going to be like. We have no frame of reference for it. It's not like you're going to a new beach where you've never been before. But you know what to expect from a day at the beach, so you throw a bathing suit and a towel into a bag, grab a beach chair, and you're good to go. No, it's nothing like that. This is 100% uncharted territory. And although we may all have our ideas about it, that's all they are – just ideas.  At that point, I realized that I had no idea what to do. So, I just sat there, with this bizarre field of colored. fractal vision filling my head, whether my eyes were opened or closed. I was stuck. Checkmate.  Then something hard to describe happened. Call it a stroke of insight or a flash of intuition, but suddenly two critical points became unmistakably clear to me. And they were both seriously disconcerting.   The first one was that I knew for sure that I was in serious trouble and that my life was on the line. I knew that I very well might be dying and it was beyond any doubt to me. I had no further questions about it at all.  The second one was more subtle and much harder to grasp. I knew intuitively that some of the thoughts I had been thinking weren't actually coming from me. This little conversation that had been going on inside my mind wasn't just between me, myself, and I. I felt like there was something or someone else, a presence of some kind, speaking to me through the instrument of my own mind.  Now, the very idea that I was receiving some form of mental telepathy was deeply unnerving, to say the least, and I hoped I wasn't just losing my mind. I mean, after all, dying is bad enough, but I didn't want to go nuts on top of it.   It was quite an intense moment and a strong wave of anxiety washed over me. But still, almost within that wave, there was another feeling that was equally as strong. I felt that this presence, or whatever it was that was talking to me, was somehow familiar. It was like an old friend that I had forgotten so long ago that I didn't even have a distant memory of it. Just a vague feeling that I had forgotten something, but I couldn't remember what it was. The only thing I could remember was that I had forgotten. But whatever this thing was, I knew that I knew it.  I just didn't know how. It was too out of reach.   As this wave of familiarity kept radiating to me from just beyond my awareness, somehow, I could sense a rightness to it and something within me seemed to surrender to the situation. Any remaining doubts I had got set aside and I felt myself go all in. It felt uncomfortably strange, yet strangely comfortable at the same time.  "Ok

    15 phút

  6. 04/11/2025

    EP 123 - The Friend at the End (Reprise) - Part I

    As you may recall, we are in the process of preparing for the release of our new program which will be called The NeuroHarmonic Method – Harmonize Your Intelligence – Transform Your Life, and one of the key parts of the method is learning  how to learn the higher lessons that we are currently learning in our lives.  Now, we don't have time here to go deeply into what this idea means. Let's just say that Timeless Wisdom tells us that we are each here to learn how to be better human beings and that we each have lessons that we are currently learning that will help take us in that direction.  With that in mind, as far as the podcasts are concerned, we are about to embark on a five-episode retrospective series that concerns the major stroke that I suffered during Memorial Day Weekend of 2011. It's important to understand that this was a major neurological episode that could have killed me in less than five seconds or maimed me significantly for the rest of my life. Fortunately, I was able to come away from it unscathed, which is a key part of the series, along with the major near-death experience that began it all.  I don't want to give too much away here. Suffice it to say that in essence, this was a major learning experience for me and we'll examine that in the final episode. So, relax, let the story unfold and see where it might take you. And I'll leave you with this one teaser – one of the biggest lessons has a lot to go with having gratitude for being alive… PART I

    18 phút

  7. 28/10/2025

    A Joyful Opportunity

    A Joyful Opportunity On a certain level, we human beings are quite an accomplished species. And this is because there is a key part to our consciousness that is always trying to improve, always trying to make things better. We call this our striving mind and without it, we'd still be living up in trees, let alone in caves. But like every other part of our awareness this can be a real double-edged sword, causing us every bit as much suffering as it does happiness. But when it comes to striving, it so happens that we have another part of our awareness that is on a completely different wavelength and we're going to examine this unique level of awareness in our episode today. The Transformative Value of Making Effort To begin, I once read of a conversation between Ted Turner and Captain Jacques Cousteau. They were traveling together on the Calypso, and everywhere they went, they saw the same thing — garbage and pollution everywhere, forests stripped bare, and the ocean losing its color along with its sea life. Turner turned to Cousteau and said, "Captain, I'm getting discouraged." And Cousteau, as I remember it, responded with something like: "Don't do that. Even if we knew without a doubt that we were going to fail, and that our efforts would be to no avail, we would still carry on — and we would do it with joy in our hearts, grateful for the blessing of having been given the gift of serving the highest good." I have no idea how long ago I read that or where, but as you can tell, I placed it on a high shelf in my mind's personal hall of fame. The simple truth of that idea has never left me, because it brings up the essence of what is known in Universal Wisdom as selfless service — the act of doing something purely for the sake of serving the higher good. And that kind of action can be transformative on many levels. When we serve something larger than ourselves, the very act of making our best effort — regardless of whether or not it will succeed — becomes the place where meaning and grace merge. There's a particular kind of beauty in that moment when a person realizes that the offering of trying itself is sacred. What Cousteau offered Turner, and what is being offered to us still, is not merely an argument for optimism but a reminder of the sacredness and purity of serving the highest. Even when the world may seem irredeemably broken, the act of caring — of showing up, of doing one's part with the highest intention, even with love, if possible — has the power to change the very fabric of our own being. It can turn despair into service, and on some deep level, the river of service eventually flows into the river of joy. The Meaning of Effort This kind of effort is very different from the frantic strivings of self-serving ambition. It's more like a deliberate and wholehearted engagement with life itself. Although we live in a culture that tends to measure worth by results: grades, profits, likes, followers, medals and the like, there is a deeper truth beneath those surface metrics. On a neurological level, the right kind of effort can lead to a profound biochemical affirmation of purpose. Every time we take action toward something meaningful, the brain's reward system releases small waves of dopamine, which noticeably increases when we are engaged in an activity for the higher good. This is what neuroscientists call the reward prediction system. It's the brain's way of saying: keep going — this really matters.   The Inner Alchemy The transformative value of effort lies in this invisible alchemy: we are changed not by the reward, but by the rhythm of trying. Each time we resist the pull of doubt, resignation, or failure, we strengthen the neural pathways that connect intention to perseverance. It is the inner moral equivalent of muscle growth. Within the framework of neuroplasticity, the fibers of attention, will, and patience are slowly woven together through repetition and sincere effort. The ancients knew this long before neuroscience gave it language. The Bhagavad Gita reminds us, "You have the right to your actions, but not to the fruits of your actions." Krishna's counsel to Arjuna was not a cold command of detachment—it was a revelation of liberation: that freedom is born when effort itself becomes an offering, a form of devotion. When we engage fully, without clinging to the outcome, we step into a sacred rhythm of creation. In that rhythm, the mind begins to quiet, the heart steadies, and the soul recognizes itself in the very act of striving with surrendered effort. The Sacred Practice of Trying Sometimes we come to believe that trying and failing is our lot in life—that, like Sisyphus, we are doomed to endless futility. Yet the capacity to keep trying, especially when the outcome is uncertain, is one of the most noble signs of an awakened life. The Stoics taught that to love the effort itself—even when the result remains unseen—is to live in harmony with the deeper order of things. To persist with grace is not naïve optimism; it is a conscious alignment with what is true and life-giving. When we learn to love our higher efforts, our joy is no longer hostage to the world's approval. Instead, we begin to feel a quiet, inner strength in the act of being faithful to our own higher purpose.   The Neuroscience of Purpose Modern neuroscience offers an intriguing mirror to these timeless truths. Studies from Stanford, Harvard, and the Max Planck Institute reveal that when people engage in purposeful effort—especially acts rooted in compassion, creativity, or mastery—the brain's prefrontal cortex begins to synchronize with deeper limbic structures such as the amygdala and hippocampus. This state of alignment produces what researchers call harmonic resonance—a condition in which emotion and reason cease to be adversaries and become partners in coherence. This, at its essence, is what the NeuroHarmonic Method is all about: aligning the hemispheres, unifying the self, and transforming the inner world into a harmmonic field of peace. The effect is truly transformative on every level of life. A Story of Renewal Over the past several years, I've been a consultant to a halfway house for men in recovery from substance abuse and alcoholism and have been privileged to witness this profound change with many of them. The recovery process can often feel exhausting because so often, it involves the process of beginning again—to stand once more at the foot of the mountain after another slipup or setback. But once the neurology is in place, beginning again stops feeling like failure. It becomes an empowering expression of perseverance, expressing the resilience of inner faith in motion. With that change, each new beginning continues to rewire the brain and the days become less defined by the past and more attuned to the present. In short, the brain learns hope by practicing it. The NeuroHarmonic View From the NeuroHarmonic perspective, the right kind of effort is the music of transformation. The circuitry of the self begins to shift from fragmentation to harmony. The fear of failure grows more quiet and the higher mind, which delights in growth, begins to lead. The surrendered act of trying becomes a note in the great symphony of becoming—proof that the universe responds not to perfection, but to sincerity. The Gift of Serving the Highest The words attributed to Cousteau remind us that joy can coexist with uncertainty. We don't serve because we know we will succeed or because we anticipate the rewards of success. This is larger than just the striving mind. We act because we feel called to serve. To act on behalf of life, love, and truth—even in a broken world—is to affirm the sacred pulse of existence itself. The paradox is that in surrendering, we become most effective. Our energy stops fragmenting into worry and begins to flow as calm, clear intention. In this way, the wave finds peace by realizing it belongs to the ocean. And in that recognition, effort transforms into offering, and service becomes joy. Closing Reflection So, when you feel weary of trying—when the world's noise or your own doubts pull you toward hopelessness or despair—remember this: according to the universal wisdom of human growth, effort is never wasted. Every time you offer your best, no matter how small the act, something deep within you expands and grows. The act of trying is itself a prayer. It aligns you with the rhythm of creation, the current of compassion, and the unseen architecture of renewal. To make effort in this way—with joy in your heart—is to live as if the Divine were watching from within, and not only watching, but smiling. Because in the end, the one who makes effort in this surrendered way has already succeeded in the only way that truly matters. The NeuroHarmonic Perspective On the deepest level, neuroscience reveals that the process of making meaningful effort activates the same neural pathways associated with pleasure and purpose. The act of trying itself sends a signal to the brain that life still holds meaning. It's as though the brain whispers, "You are alive, and your choices matter." When we understand this, even small acts—cleaning a space, comforting a friend, or returning to a state of inner balance regardless of externals, become deep neurological affirmations. Each one reinforces a living pattern that says, "I am engaged with life. I am participating in something greater than guilt, doubt, or fear." The Higher Labor of Liberation This is why the great spiritual masters of every age have emphasized right action over right results. The Gita, the Tao, the Sermon on the Mount—each reveals the same paradox: that higher labor leads to liberation, and serenity is born through sincere effort. When we act with a purity of intent untethered from personal gain, something pro

    19 phút

  8. 21/10/2025

    Drinking a One-Two Punch

    Drinking a One-Two Punch In an earlier episode, I mentioned that between the ages of five and eight, my older brother used to take me to the Saturday afternoon matinees at a large movie theatre near our home in Northeast Philadelphia. Those outings were magical — the darkened theatre, the smell of popcorn, and the giant screen that opened windows to worlds far beyond my own. As I shared before, I saw some of the great science fiction classics of the 1950s, films that made an indelible impression on my young mind — impressions that, in some ways, have stayed with me ever since. In that earlier episode, we explored Invasion of the Body Snatchers, a film that warned of a future where human beings had become emotionless replicas — walking robots in human form. In this episode, we'll turn our attention to two other remarkable science fiction classics that touched me on a deep, existential level. The first is The Day the Earth Stood Still — a film that offered a profound vision of the power of human choice in the effort of our survival. The second is The Incredible Shrinking Man — a film that took me inward, toward the mystery of identity, consciousness, and what existence really means. The Day the Earth Stood Still The Day the Earth Stood Still opens in Washington, D.C., where a flying saucer lands on the National Mall, instantly drawing the attention of both the military and the public. From the ship emerges a calm, human-like visitor named Klaatu, who announces that he has come in peace, bearing a message to aid humanity. But when he reaches into his suit and pulls out a small, unfamiliar device, a nervous soldier panics and fires his rifle, wounding him. In that instant, a towering robot named Gort steps out of the ship and begins to disintegrate the soldiers' weapons with a blinding energy ray. The chaos halts only when Klaatu, wounded but composed, commands Gort to stop. He then explains that the device he was holding had been a gift intended for the President of the United States — a symbol of peace, not threat. Klaatu Among Humans Klaatu is rushed to Walter Reed Army Hospital, where he requests an audience with the world's leaders to deliver an urgent message. But the atmosphere of Cold War paranoia makes cooperation impossible. Frustrated by political barriers, Klaatu escapes the hospital and disguises himself as an ordinary man named "Mr. Carpenter." He rents a room in a boarding house, where he befriends a young widow, Helen Benson, and her curious son, Bobby. Through his time with them — especially his friendship with Bobby — Klaatu experiences the rhythms of ordinary American life: simple kindness, curiosity, and fear. Eventually, he meets the brilliant Professor Barnhardt, a scientist modeled after Albert Einstein, who recognizes Klaatu's sincerity and agrees to help gather the world's leading scientific minds. Demonstration of Power To prove the seriousness of his mission, Klaatu arranges a global demonstration. At precisely noon, all electrical power across the planet ceases for thirty minutes. Lights go dark, cars stall, machinery grinds to a halt — the world itself seems to stop. Only essential systems like hospitals and airplanes in flight remain untouched. For half an hour, the human race stands still, witnessing a power far beyond its own. Conflict and Revelation Despite his peaceful purpose, Klaatu is relentlessly hunted by the military, who see him as a threat. When he tries to return to his spaceship, soldiers open fire, gravely wounding him. But before this, he had given Helen specific instructions: if anything happens to him, she must go to Gort and say the words — "Klaatu barada nikto." Helen bravely delivers the message. Gort obeys, retrieves Klaatu's body, and revives him using alien technology. When Klaatu awakens, he tells Helen that his revival may be temporary — for only the Divine Power, not science, holds true authority over life and death. Final Warning In the film's climactic moment, Klaatu addresses the assembled scientists, revealing the full purpose of his visit. His people, he explains, monitor planets across the galaxy. Earth's combination of nuclear weapons and emerging rocket technology has made it a danger not only to itself but to all intelligent life. Klaatu's civilization lives in peace — but that peace is maintained by an interstellar police force of powerful robots like Gort. Any planet that threatens the balance of life will face destruction. Then he delivers his unforgettable warning: "The decision rests with you. We shall be waiting for your answer. The choice is simple — join us and live in peace, or pursue your present reckless course and face obliteration. We shall be waiting for your answer." With that, Klaatu bids farewell, boards his spacecraft with Gort, and departs into the heavens — leaving humanity to decide its fate. Even though I was still just a little kid, I could barely move at the end of that movie. I remember sitting there, completely still, deeply shaken by the realization that we — the human race — are actually a very primitive species, and that there may exist an intelligence in the universe far more advanced and powerful than our own. Of course, the most unforgettable moment, was when Klaatu demonstrates his power by literally stopping all electricity on Earth for thirty minutes. Trains grind to a halt, factories fall silent, cars stall in the streets, and even wristwatches freeze in time. In that single moment, the entire world is brought to its knees, forced to experience its utter helplessness before a power infinitely greater — and yet, astonishingly, not malevolent, but filled with wisdom and compassion. Throughout the story, human beings are shown as anxious and paranoid, their decisions shaped by fear and greed. The aliens, by contrast, are calm, wise, and profoundly compassionate — beings who have long transcended the primitive impulses that still dominate us. Beneath the surface of the film runs a clear message: we are not the ultimate masters we imagine ourselves to be. And humanity is in critical need of a vast expansion of consciousness. Perhaps the wisest response to such a revelation is not more fear or aggression, but the openness that comes from true humility — the humility to listen, to learn, and to evolve. For this unknown force has shown us that it holds complete power over us, and yet it extends a hand of understanding. Its message could not be clearer — simple, urgent, and eternal: Evolve… or die. So, this brings us to the second film in today's episode, The Incredible Shrinking Man, which, to quote old hippie parlance, really did a major number on my head. Opening and Setup Scott Carey, a happily married, ordinary man, is vacationing on a boat with his wife, Louise. While sunbathing, he is suddenly enveloped by a strange, mist-like cloud. Six months later, he begins to feel unwell and notices his clothes fitting loosely. Soon, he realizes he is actually shrinking. Medical tests confirm that exposure to a combination of radioactive fallout and insecticide has altered his cellular structure, causing his body to continuously diminish in scale. Public Curiosity and Growing Despair As Scott becomes smaller, he loses his job and, eventually, his confidence. He becomes a media spectacle, dubbed "The Incredible Shrinking Man" by the press. His humiliation and helplessness deepen with every inch he loses. Though Louise still loves him deeply, their relationship grows increasingly strained as he withdraws emotionally. When he befriends Clarice, a kind-hearted circus performer with dwarfism, he finds brief solace and understanding — someone who truly empathizes with his plight. But that comfort vanishes when he realizes he is shrinking even smaller than her, confirming that his condition is unstoppable. Life in the Dollhouse Eventually, Scott becomes only a few inches tall and is forced to live in a dollhouse. Louise continues to care for him tenderly, but tragedy strikes when she steps out of the house, leaving him vulnerable. Their cat attacks, and in a frantic struggle for survival, Scott narrowly escapes — only to be knocked into the basement, where he is presumed dead. The Basement Odyssey Trapped in the basement and now only fractions of an inch tall, Scott begins a desperate struggle for survival. The familiar surroundings of his home transform into an immense and hostile wilderness. He faces epic battles against a giant spider, treacherous climbs over towering obstacles, and a constant search for crumbs of food and droplets of water. These scenes are both terrifying and deeply symbolic: Scott must rediscover his will to live in a world that continually threatens his existence. Existential Revelation As he continues to shrink beyond visible size, Scott experiences a profound spiritual awakening. He realizes that, though he is becoming infinitely small, he is still part of the infinite itself — connected to all creation. His fear dissolves into awe. He looks up at the stars and understands that size and scale are irrelevant in the cosmic order. And then he expresses his realization of the ultimate truth: "To God, there is no zero. I still exist." Themes and Legacy When I first saw The Incredible Shrinking Man at around age eight, the experience was life-altering — though I was far too young to understand it intellectually. All I knew was that something vast and wordless had opened inside me. I didn't yet grasp its meaning; I simply felt it. Now, after many decades of personal growth and reflection, the film's message has come much more into focus. At its core, The Incredible Shrinking Man is a meditation on human vulnerability and ultimate transcendence. It begins as science fiction but ends as metaphysics — a journey from disintegration and despair to the realization of unity with th

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Weekly short learnings, perspectives, thoughts, and ideas to consider and reflect upon. These are not meant to be teachings, but innovative ideas that you might want to consider to see where they lead. So, absorb the information, keep your eyes, mind, and heart open, and watch what happens.

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