Category Archives: Personal

Symbols and Psychiatry

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Corn snake, kco051316

Ten years ago this month, I had just retired my medical and DEA licenses, in search of better ways to inspire people regarding the mind and its potential.  A long-time student of symbolism, I write daily in my journal and regularly include references to astrology, mythology, religion, dreams, and other symbolic languages.  These universal concepts fall loosely into Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung’s idea of a “collective unconscious” and of “archetypes.”  As most people probably know, Jung was a protege of Sigmund Freud, father of modern psychiatry, whose The Interpretation of Dreams, published in 1900, rocked the scientific world and initiated the field of psychiatry and psychoanalysis.

The following excerpts from my November, 2007 diary show how I play around with symbolism to help develop a deeper appreciation for everyday life.

ON PREDICTIONS AND FREE WILL

Tuesday, November 20, 2007 – I believe if the student fails, the teacher fails more, because the teacher is paid to teach.  The student (ideally), pays to learn.  This is why I’ve never believed in tenure and probably why I don’t believe in marriage or other chains on the future.  As an astrologer, I don’t believe in predictions either, but astrologers as a group would disown me for saying this.  They thrive on making predictions, and people expect them to do it, but no one can say that predictions are consistent with free will.

You have to be a free thinker to understand how limiting predictions are.

This moment, as I sit in my recliner on this beautiful sunny day, overlooking vast expanses of marsh and blue sky, I have access to all time, depending on my focus.  It can come as dream, memory, fantasy, association, feeling, impression, dimly or readily perceived.  A book once read is forever a part of my experience, because I have invested the personal effort to make it so.  A book once written is part of everyone’s experience, whether direct or indirect, as knowledge brought through on the verbal place is “thicker” and more physical than the more ethereal realm of imagination.  How can I know before I read a book how it will change my life?

PENELOPE AND UNDOING

Thursday, November 22, 2007 – I’m approaching my multiple goals in piecemeal fashion.  When everything seems to be at beginning stages, as now, or beyond my capabilities, I feel frustrated and at odds with myself.  Re-doing things makes me feel like Penelope, Odysseus’ wife in The Odyssey of Homer, who undid her father-in-law’s shroud every evening to avoid having to marry any of the moochers who invaded her home as soon as Odysseus stayed gone too long.

I used to think Penelope was a sap, but undoing is a matter of perception, and if you enjoy the weaving and undoing for its own sake, it is no longer a waste of time.  Here we have the clash of the results-oriented and the process-oriented approach.  Also apparent is the stated vs. actual purpose.  Penelope stated she wanted a shroud.  She actually wanted to stall for time, so the actual purpose was met.

She lived in a time when women were possessions, and we have that subversive belief still, although no one admits it.  Marriage is a testament to the people-ownership concept.  While presumably it’s a mutual ownership, no one expects men to be as faithful as women, although this is a generalization and less true than in the past.  In the great sexual shuffling of today, men and women seem equally unfaithful.

Probably few perceive the ownership attitude as clearly as I, the target of so many who want to own by any means available.  Insurance companies, government, bankers, stockbrokers, businessmen, acquaintances, friends, family, partners–all want an advantage and will look for or create excuses to cross the line of equality, move in and take over.

Am I bitter and cynical?  Yes.  I don’t like feeling this way, knowing it only hurts me to have this attitude.  Like it or not, I am a herald, of sorts, meaning I search restlessly for higher and more comfortable ground, especially mentally.  Those who would control will seek first to control the mind.

I can’t control my own mind, nor do I want to.  I like its free ranging ability and thrive on the little lessons obtained from every facet of my life.

How would I know about undoing if I did not live it, feel the emotions associated, know the practice from mythology and the term from psychiatry?

Unraveling a sweater – which I’ve already done once with this one because I didn’t like the stitch – brings many facets into play.

How would someone else handle it?  Who knows?  Most people would not attempt to knit a sweater at all, I suspect, and this is my contention with “most people.”

Nor will “most people” appreciate the value of the process as a means of showing how to solve problems, because this is my real purpose.  Rather than start over, I can adapt mid-sweater and potentially turn a mistake into a success.

SNAKES IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN

Monday, November 26, 2007 – I’ve retired my medical license to become a New Age Profit . . . er . . . Prophet, for the Spirit of Capitalism.

I cut my fangs on Telluride politics and other stories from the Serpents of the Modern Caduceus.  What if there were two serpents in the Garden of Eden, and they ran the interlopers out, better to rest in peace without getting trampled?  Then they can bask in the sun of the Garden, eating of their favorite fruit, the apples from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Now that Adam and Even have departed in search of something better, the wise snakes may rest assured the tree won’t be cut down to build a house, to hold squealing brats who like to torture snakes for fun.  Minimal risk of getting eaten for supper or skinned for belts and purses.  Why, now that God has expelled these demons from Heaven, the snakes are ecstatic.

Unfortunately, the Garden of Eden isn’t quite as lively as when the humans were around.  They provided entertainment, if only by making God mad.  We snakes can make God mad without even trying.  All we had to do was show him how dumb his latest invention was, and he threw them out and has been moping around ever since, feeling guilty about over-reacting.  Now, look at the mess man has made of his lives.

All we said was “Wise up.”  We didn’t say do it the hard way.  No.  That was Adam’s choice, to do it the hard way.

We snakes wise up the easy way.  When our skins get too small, we shed them and slither on out to greater dimensions of girth and wisdom.

Yes, snakes are hated and feared, because we are so smart.  We see life from the ground up, and we know where our support and strength lie.  Our raw intelligence knows its own turf and doesn’t seek to intrude on that of others.  Snakes don’t go looking for trouble, unless it’s entertaining trouble that enhances our wisdom and gets a potential threat redirected into other dimensions, like hell on earth.

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October, 2007 Memories

 

In October, 2007, I had just retired my state medical and DEA licenses.  The practice of medicine was ruining my health and attitude.  It had become too hostile and dangerous for this wimp of a psychiatrist.

I spent the next few months reading.  These journal entries are the result.

MY GRANDFATHER’S SON, CLARENCE THOMAS, 2007
Monday, October 1, 2007 – I went to B&N hoping to buy a copy of Clarence Thomas’ book, My Grandfather’s Son, which comes out today.  Jonathan, my B&N employee friend – the coin-collector customer-service-book-orderer, a 20’s something kid who agrees with me so is very intelligent – told me B&N only ordered 12 copies of the book.  Corporate B&N in New York “didn’t know Clarence Thomas was from Savannah.”

Well, Jonathan, you and I both know that’s a lie, but we’ll pretend they don’t want to undersell his book in his home town.  He’s much too credible.

Sure enough, B&N’s 12 copies sold out in about ten minutes.  They had to rush order 40 more copies.  Should be here in 2-3 days.  400 more copies would be more cost-effective.  They can save on UPS shipments.

Apparently B&N’s entire marketing department missed the 60 Minutes interview with Thomas last night in advance of this pub date.  60 Minutes interviewed him right here in Savannah.

Is B&N trying to lose money?  I would sell its stock real quick-like if I had it, and I would buy copies of Thomas’ book, instead, from another distributor.  What is B&N trying to hide?

Thus do I think like a free market capitalist.

THE ROBBER BARONS, MATTHEW JOSEPHSON, 1934

Tuesday, October 2, 2007 – I’m reading in The Robber Barons, about Jay Gould, the money churner and asset plunderer par excellence.  Gould was a master manipulator, but anyone who refused to play his games could have stopped him.  He used Vanderbilt’s and others’ spite towards him to play out his line, then reeled in the big fish over and over.  How many times do people bite before their mouths are full of holes and they are still starving?

I’m getting an explosion of awareness regarding American history.  Why has this become my latest passion?

I see the patterns set in motion long ago, in the history of human beings as we remember them, and in America.

The American history most astounds me.  Lincoln essentially bought political favoritism by giving the West, the Louisiana Purchase, away to friends, political donors, and corporate railroad interests.  Thus did he finance his war on the South.

I’m seeing Lincoln and Wilson as ego-driven megalomaniacs, not the great liberators their handlers claimed.  They got us into two of the bloodiest wars to date, and the third great liberator, Roosevelt, got us into World War II.

I haven’t appreciated the intensity of my feelings for peace.  What I’ve believed was my own violent nature is merely the reflection of a world so foreign to me that I had to identify with it to understand it.  Once identified, I can forgive it, or so I hope.

Vis a vis The Robber Barons, I don’t understand sleazy business practices.  I read, astounded that taxpayers have allowed these people to get away with such cruel dishonesty for so long.  We have the veneer of civilization, but the viciousness has only changed garments and venue in time.

Jay Gould must be the idol of today’s Wall Street.  This is why product quality has plummeted.  Gould, et al. paid more attention to stocks than to managing tangible assets, and today’s brokers are doing the same.  They have even less connection with the corporations’ tangible products than before.  They deal only in electronic stock certificates, used in place of currency for the insiders.  It’s a method for selling other people’s and taxpayers’ productivity.  The companies’ products and services are only excuses for selling stock and feathering government pension and benefit nests.

Through all these wars and contests, who has benefitted, I wonder, as I sit in my lofty 21st century perspective.  I have the advantage of history to guide me.  For all of recorded history, war and fighting don’t work.  The fruits of victory are spoiled by the fighting.

ROBBING HOOD

Monday, October 8, 2007 – When you rob from the perceived rich to give to the perceived poor, you are still a thief.  You set up a race to the bottom, because everyone vies to be the best thief.

What happens when everyone is equally poor?  Leadership loses its relevance, and it’s every man for himself, unless he can learn to cooperate with those around him.  This is genuine leadership.

Now government robs from the poor to give to the rich.  This is easily camouflaged, because there are so many more poor people than rich people.  Cumulatively, poor people consume much more food, energy, clothes, and other tangible products and pay more in taxes than the rich, who reap the bulk of the profits from taxpayer-funded infrastructure.

BURNED-AT-THE-STAKE LIFE

Tuesday, October 9, 2007 – I’ve been thinking about my friends’ attitudes, which they revealed over the years I went the psychiatry route.  They seemed to think I defected.  I was merely exploring my own consciousness through the medical model.  They hurt my feelings most by making no effort to understand my point of view or to give me credit for the history we shared.

They seemed so afraid I would abandon them that they pushed me away.  I had to go deep inside myself to find companionship.  Here I make friends of ghosts, memories, my cat, plants, and the few people who accept me at face value or who must deal with me.

I feel like a witch appearing to burn at the stake, shackles melting in the heat, but who emerges triumphantly from the blaze.

“I’m only waiting for the chains to melt, Assholes, then we’ll see who can take the heat.”

The witch got a little burned in the chastening, admittedly, but she’s walking, talking, and breathing fire.  She cackles.

Smell that?  They piled hemp on the logs, this time, so the burning was more enjoyable.

I have internalized the sacrificial heat, contained and controlled it, practicing using the dragon’s fire to advantage.  Sort of.  Burned the tips of my first and second fingers the other day.

However, burning witches is a waste of time and resources, and it distracts everyone from doing anything useful.  It pollutes the air and puts everyone in a bad mood.

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THE BRIDGE OF SAN LUIS REY, THORNTON WILDER, 1927

Saturday, October 13, 2007 – I started one of Mama’s books, The Bridge of San Luis Rey, by Thornton Wilder.  Published and printed in 1927, the book has thick pages, almost like cardboard.  I have avoided it, thinking it a war novel, but I was wrong.  It’s about a 100-plus-year-old, hand-made bridge across a deep gorge between Lima and Cusco, Peru.  Set in 1714, it tells the imagined lives of the five people who fell to their deaths when the bridge finally gave way.  I’ve read about Dona Maria, the sad, alcoholic, rich mother, whose adored daughter had repudiated her, married a rich patron of the Spanish court, and moved to Spain.

Now, I’m reading about Esteban, whose identical twin brother, Manuel, died, leaving him half alive and desolate.

THE CREATURE FROM JEKYLL ISLAND:   A SECOND LOOK AT THE FEDERAL RESERVE, G. EDWARD GRIFFIN, 1991-2007

Saturday, October 13, 2007 –  So far, The Creature from Jekyll Island is astounding.  It is so clear, concise, well researched and documented, reasonable, and logical that I’m amazed it hasn’t made a larger splash.  Perhaps the time wasn’t right.  It’s a sleeper and about to come into its own.

Griffin writes about the history of money and defines terms.  He mentions tobacco as commodity money. So are shrimp, eggs, and any food, and that’s the bottom line.

He discusses the gold standard, says there were only about three examples of “honest” money in the world:  Ancient Greece, the Byzantine Empire – which lasted 800 years on the gold standard – a bank in Germany before Napoleon plundered it, and maybe one in Amsterdam.

By “honest money” Griffin means money which is 100% backed by solid deposits, like gold.  He says fractional reserve banking, which is lending more money than you have in deposits, against deposits that already belong to someone, is dishonest, because the banks have no right to do that.  Why have a bank store your money if it’s not safe there?  If I want to lend money, I can do it and keep the interest.

Fractional money eventually disintegrates into fiat money.  This usually seems to happen to finance wars.  The author doesn’t specifically state the latter, at least not yet.  He says fiat money has zero percent backing, and that’s what the US dollar has become, fiat money.

Seems funny in light of all the political debate about international currency.  I don’t know if any international currencies are backed by gold or silver, so they are all equally worthless, according to Mr. Griffin.

SCIENTIFIC METHOD

Tuesday, October 16, 2007 – We all know quantum theory turns the “scientific method” on its ear. If it works in sub-atomic physics, it works in life, because we are all composed of those electrons they study.

Now, if the experimenter influences outcome by desire or expectation, there is no way the scientific method can be valid.  Experiment design alone can determine outcome, as any drug study shows.

Now that we’ve established that the “scientific method” is a crock, a sacred cow that needs to be broiled and served up as steaks, for the mastication and nourishment of truly progressive science, we introduce the quantum leap from the scientific method, which is the fact that human beings, by the power of their will, have the ability to influence destiny!

DIAGNOSIS:  TESTOSTERONE POISONING

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Genetics:  A sex-linked condition, like hemophilia

Epidemiology:  Found almost exclusively in males

Presentations:

Sadistic type:  Bullies

Masochistic type: Cons

Other:  Disputed

Treatments (Experimental):

Death: Not politically correct

Funded by costs

Not economically sound

Prison camps:  A better idea, but still must house and feed

Not economically sound

Castration:  The nation is almost equally divided on this one.  A growing contingent claims testosterone poisoning is a medical illness, with castration the treatment of choice, worthy of insurance funding.  It is believed Leydig and other testicular cells could be recycled into pill form and scientific research.  Many female scientists have already applied for research funding.  A particularly elated female researcher said no man has had the balls to apply, so the women have an open field on government contracts.

THE RAIN FALLS ON ALL

Friday, October 19, 2007 – I dyed fabrics last night, noticing how cotton or silk, sewed with polyester thread, doesn’t dye right, because the polyester doesn’t absorb dye.  It also melts at lower temperatures, which makes garments with polyester thread hard to iron.

As I do things like this, I think about world politics, and how they affect daily life.  We are being socially engineered to use man-made products in lieu of natural ones, because our textile mills and cotton are going to China.   Meanwhile, China exports acrylic – a petroleum product – to the US, complete with the overhead of packaging, transportation, import and export taxes, and distribution.  Machine-made polyester is considered a cheaper improvement, but it doesn’t wear or last like natural fibers.  To me, plastic clothes reflect America’s cheap, plastic attitudes.

It’s raining.  The rain is natural and impartial.  Governments come and go, but the rain falls on them all.

ON MEDICAL LICENSE RETIREMENT

Monday, October 22, 2007 – Other people are more upset than I am about retiring my medical licenses.  This shows how over-rated the license is.  Once I explain my rationale, no one challenges it. I’m becoming convinced this is the most powerful statement – nay, indictment possible regarding the health scare/snare racket.  If the system has become so bad that I am afraid to practice within it, that must be truly scary, indeed.

From my perspective, malpractice has become entrenched, subsidized, mandated, and legislated to the point where the risk to me is too great to continue.  Only by retiring my medical licenses do I make my stance definitive, direct, and consistent with my beliefs.

DIEBOLD

Monday, October 22, 2007 – My psychodrama continues.  I removed stuff from the safety deposit box today and put it in a safer place than bank with a Diebold key.  It makes me nervous that Diebold has the contract on voting machines, bank safety deposit boxes, and bank ATM’s.   Call me paranoid.  No, it’s not a conspiracy.  Anyone can buy Diebold stock, I suppose.  I should check it out.

THE “CONSPIRACY THEORY” AND LIZARD WISDOM

Monday, October 22, 2007 – People like Hillary Clinton scoff at “the conspiracy theory.”  My sister mentioned it today.  It is they who imagine such grandiosity.  I merely think the politicos’ behavior is stupid and counterproductive.  That there are so many people being stupid, incompetent, paranoid, dangerous, and dishonest doesn’t necessarily make it a conspiracy.  It merely means the planet is overrun with idiots.

This is something lizards understand.  On my way to run errands, I had a conversation with a lizard on my back door.  He was too close to the hinge for my comfort.  I stopped to caution him – her, I think, although she was large.  I told her she needs to be more careful.  I mean well, but I’m clumsy, and when I get agitated, I’m dangerous.  I’m also noisy, so she needs to stay out of my way if she doesn’t want to get hurt.  I watched her listen.  She tilted her head this way and that, eyeing me from different angles, while spread getaway style along the bottom edge of a step.  My head was sideways, watching her, studying the wide blue eye shadow that ringed her eye.  Such wisdom in animals’ eyes, if you look closely.

According to the World Book encyclopedia (2005), lizards are 65 million years old.  Cockroaches are 250 million, birds 213 million, cats 55 million, dogs 34 million, man two million years old.

I told the lizard this hanging out on back doors is a bad idea. I killed one of her relatives by accident the other day. He got caught in the screen flange.  It devastated me, because I figure these lizards are Lizardo’s relatives and descendants, and they are watching out for me.

As I got in the car, I saw a second, smaller lizard on the porch, also watching me.  I hope he/she was listening.

Of course they were.  That’s how they have survived so long.

Then, as I leave, I startle three deer in the woods, a doe and two fawns.  They stopped to watch me, and I told them how much I love them.  It worries me that Carol is clearing out so much of the underbrush, because the deer have fewer and fewer places to hide.

LET ‘EM FAIL

Wednesday, October 31, 2007 – Status post a trip to Cutter’s Point Coffee, where I read a Wall Street Journal scarfed from an outside table.  I’d also purchased the USA Today and Savannah Morning News from the news boxes in front of CVS/Piggly Wiggly, so I was saturated with more current events than I knew what to do with.

The Fed meets today, and Wall Street is all aflutter.  The presumed crisis is most amusing to me.  These idiots will not see that it is not my crisis but theirs.

What they perceive is a crisis, I see as blessed relief from Yankee oppression and aggression.  Let the markets fail.  It’s high time they did.  Get outside before the skyscrapers collapse.  The penthouses have the farthest to fall.

Skull & Bones

August 19, 2017
I love my journal.  It’s the best therapist imaginable, free, doesn’t interrupt, argue, talk back, gossip, nag, or second-guess.  If more people kept journals, the world would be a saner place.

Ten years ago this month, when George W. Bush was still president, I purchased a “Collectors’ Edition” of the US News and World Report on “Secret Societies.”  The following journal entry was my take on “Skull & Bones,” the Yale club that claims the Georges Bush as members, among other famous power-brokers

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Sunday, August 26, 2007
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I bought a “Collector’s Edition” of the US News and World Report.  “Mysteries of History–Secret Societies.”  It has articles on the Masons, Rosicrucians, Skull & Bones, and numerous others.

Skull & Bones, the secret society at Yale that boasts multiple notable members– including George W. Bush and his father, George H. W. Bush–interests me only because it is an excellent example of a Good Ole Boy clique.  The article gives fuzzy details but for this:  Skull & Bones “puts its members through some strange activities and centers its program around ideas of death, power, and devotion to a goddess.  The influence of Skull & Bones is particularly noticeable in the area of public service, although it does no community service.”

I figure the public service is all done with other people’s money.  This is the plutocracy.  I wonder which goddess, or did they invent their own?  Is this some kind of Satanic cult American taxpayers have elected?  Is this the anti-Christ we’ve been waiting for?  Bush does walk around with a dazed look, as if he is figuring out he’s being perceived as the anti-Christ and doesn’t quite know how to play the role.

A skull and bones is the symbol for poison, so why would anyone choose to associate with a group that brags about being poisonous?  The flag that pirates carried?  I embrace life, not death.

Also, “Bones has each candidate recite his or her [?] sexual history right off the bat (September of his senior year).  By forcing them to share their most intimate confidences with each other, Skull & Bones binds its members together.”  Sounds like a cult of perverts, as well.  How does anyone know if they’re telling the truth?  Anybody ever refuse to join?

But America elected Bush, as well as others of this cult’s members.

What amazes me most is that anyone takes them seriously.  If this is what they’re learning at Yale, I withdraw my taxpayer contribution to education.

Secrecy is shame and shame secrecy.

The concept of Skull & Bones representing poison bears closer scrutiny.  My issues with public policy are strongly domestic:  The mis-management on the home turf, with poisons being pushed on people’s bodies and into the planetary ecosystem in massive quantities . . .

A more interesting article was about the Illuminati, an organization that may or may not exist, kept alive by belief that it does and that Jews are behind it.  Whether it exists is irrelevant to me.  The world is dominated by people who think they are smarter than everyone else, including each other, as current events show.  If they want to reassure each other that they are illuminated, just because they want it to be true, fine with me.  Just don’t expect me to pay for it.

Now Skull & Bones makes a big deal of public service with other people’s money, in true Plutonian style.

I would really like to know which goddess they pray to.  No wonder public policy feels like a gangbang.  Not enough women to go around.

I suspect they are all homosexuals and pedophiles, anyway.  Maybe the goddess they pray to is the one who can give them erections.  Someone more exciting than little boys.

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Their symbolism is interesting.  They adapt several masonic symbols having to do with building.   There are three “5”s in a triangle on their shield, which is a coffin.

They have west facing up – sunset – a 90-degree counter-clockwise shift of the south pole in a horoscope.

So that’s what we’re seeing on the world stage:  a group of self-proclaimed world leaders intentionally leading the world into self-destruction.  It makes no sense to me.

These people think they are smart?

 

 

 

 

July, 2007 Retrospective

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Ten years ago this month, I was working in a public mental health outpatient clinic, preparing to retire my medical and DEA licenses the following month.  These journal notes give a profile of my reasoning at the time.

GOSSIP AND SECRETS

Sunday, July 1, 2007 – I have been victimized by gossip more than once.  I tell patients therapy wouldn’t be necessary if not for gossip.

I remember excluding myself from cliques – the lunchroom crowd at Duke, composed of several girls in my dorm, and the group in medical school who gathered at lunch – because I didn’t like the mean-spirited gossip and chit-chat that characterized the gatherings.  I couldn’t sit with them without judging and seeing sides of them they couldn’t be proud of.

So I have been naive about gossip’s power.  In a culture built on hearsay, I am an odd duck, indeed.

Of course, my way is better, because it’s more practical.  I like forming my own opinions and always wonder what the gossiper’s agenda is.  I agree with Anne Scott, my history professor at Duke, who insisted on primary sources.  I believe in getting my information from the individual in question.  What he or she doesn’t tell or show me is none of my business.

In theory.  When people are plotting behind my back, it becomes my business, because I end up being the victim of their gossip.  I have been blindsided too often by those I trusted too much.

FREEDOM

Monday, July 2, 2007 – My unconventionality surprises me more than anyone.  Rather, I’m surprised to be growing so confident in it.   Perhaps I always knew it was there – that I was “different” – but it was unexpressed until revealed by the contrasts with the groupthink.  I live what others profess to believe, yet I am castigated for it by those who claim the beliefs most strongly.

No one attacks me directly, but they use triangulation, hurting things and people close to me, such that no one is safe.  I believe at some point the winds will shift, and I won’t stand so alone.  I will not actually lead, except in ideas and methods, as I feel I am already doing when opportunities arise.  After the fact, everyone wants to claim credit.  I don’t care who or how many people get credit, because everyone who takes a stand on her own behalf deserves credit for it.  I do for myself what I hope others will do for themselves, in commitment to self-reliance and freedom from bondage.

A PATIENT-CHURNING, PRESCRIPTION-WRITING MACHINE

Tuesday, July 3, 2007 – The more I work as a patient-churning, prescription writing machine, the more I hate it.  If they want to hire me to do staff development, groups, lectures, or anything that doesn’t involve writing prescriptions, we can spin it as education, and I won’t need a license.  I think these drugs are overrated and/or do more harm than good.  I spend all my time reducing meds and warning about side effects.

ON DRUG REPS

Wednesday, July 11, 2007 – Drug reps were lurking in the halls again today.

I’m reducing people’s meds, and they are grateful.  These folks seem healthier than the system.  Politically manufactured diseases justify churning tax dollars.

As psychiatrists like Dr. W (who plans to be a stay-at-home mom) and me (who plans to be a stay-at-home survivor) leave the system, the exploiters wring their hands in agony, wondering how they can perpetuate the illusions when the docs won’t cooperate.

ON THE HEALTH SNARE RACKET

Friday, July 13, 2007 – I undermine the system with every patient.  A hip replacement?  I ask.  Surgeons like to cut, and they have overhead to pay.  You need a hip replacement?  If you lost weight and restored some flexibility to your joints, your hip pain may not be so bad.  You’re thinking about replacing something living with something dead.  A living hip joint is infinitely more capable of regenerating itself than a plastic substitute.  Do you know how bacteria-infested hospitals are?  And bone surgery is the most invasive of all.  Microbes can hide and fester best in bones.

Your drug rep says you need to up your Cymbalta from 20 mg to 60 mg because that’s the standard starting dose?  But you feel better on 20 mg, and you’re super sensitive to meds?  Your drug rep wants to sell drugs.  Listen to your body.

Turn off the television to alleviate depression.  Dance for exercise.  Journal for self-discovery.  Reduce meds.  People treat side effects with more meds.

The whole world is crazy, so if you’re crazy, you’re normal.

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FOOD

Thursday, July 19, 2007 – In the check-out line at the grocery store, the man in front of me, an elderly black man, had several chicken pot pies and orange juice in a plastic container.  I think about the cost of all that packaging.

Several patients have gained significant weight, so I’ve begun to talk with them about diet.  They spend lots of money on food at restaurants like Applebee’s, but don’t get takeout boxes.  I’m watching what people buy in grocery stores.  People are using food stamps for things like bottled water and soft drinks.

One patient told me her food stamps go farther since she started eating more vegetables.  She weighs close to 300 pounds.

PFIZER REPS AND DRUG CULTURE

Wednesday, July 25, 2007 – The Pfizer reps were blocking the halls yesterday, flirting with the head nurse, who was laughing and flirting back. As I squeezed past her to collect my next patient, she loudly mentioned that the other doctor was late.  She couldn’t much stop me, could she, considering I was generating money.  And no, I will not sign my name for samples of those poisons.

Fortunately for me, my patients all showed up, and I had a blast with them while avoiding Pfizer at every turn.

They even brought lunch.  There must have been 20 boxes of pizza in the break room, and everyone but me gravitated to the food.  I heard the other doctor’s voice, so the Pfizer rep had his fish.

I was too busy seeing patients until 12:30 p.m., so they knew not to stop me

I have said over and over the drug reps shouldn’t be allowed to hang out in the back.  It’s unprofessional.  But this is the way business is conducted these days, in these “public-private partnerships.”

The drug culture?  Here’s what I think of the drug culture.  Grow it, just like you do food.  If you can’t grow it, you don’t need it.  Tobacco, corn for ethanol, marijuana.

Here’s an idea.  Individuals should be allowed to have private ethanol plants, formerly known as stills, to fuel their personal energy needs.  Whatever they sell, they can pay taxes on, if they must.

Same with tobacco.

Individuals could grow corn for their energy needs and sell designer corn liquor by the side of the road.  This would give farmers more value for their ethanol and save taxpayers from the middlemen.

Why, if investment bankers and oil companies can get government mandates and subsidies to force commercial ethanol plants, individuals should have equal status under the law.  Corporations don’t vote.  Individuals do.  Corporations vote behind the scenes, with money and favors, but the public pays the taxes and other costs for the fat cats’ deals.

THE TRUTH ABOUT THE DRUG COMPANIES, MARCIA ANGELL, MD, 2004, 2005

Friday, July 27, 2007 – I’m on the last chapter of The Truth about the Drug Companies:  How they deceive us and what to do about it, by Marcia Angell, MD.  I read about how the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) basically works for the pharmaceutical companies.  Far from protecting the public, the FDA protects snake oils, since approved drugs are not required to show superiority over current drugs, only over placebo.

Monday, July 30, 2007 – Dr. Angell castigates drug companies and FDA throughout the book but at the end, she recommends more legislation and more money for the FDA.  Of course she’s part of the establishment and can’t rock the boat too much and expect to be published.  A Boston Yankee, liberal Harvard elitist in an ivory tower, she depends on government for funding so is ultimately a GoverCorp slave.

And, she doesn’t mention insurance.  How does insurance, which costs more for giving less, get away with being so transparent?  Like with cellophane, you don’t recognize the costs until you’ve been shrink-wrapped and can’t breathe.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007 – So Dr. Angell is sadly naive about government and Medicare, either that or she chose to focus on one problem at a time.

Not I.  The FDA, for instance.  Waste of money.  Have the drug companies market directly to patients, starting with FDA employees, and pay them to participate in clinical trials. This could constitute true consumer marketing, drug company accountability, earning opportunities for all, and publicly supported large scale scientific research.  Capitalism in a nutshell.  They already do it in third world countries, under the pretext of giving free medications and vaccines to the poor.

Secrecy is the problem, and regulations make secrecy necessary to survive.  The more rules, the less anyone knows about cooperation.  Communication plummets, except by hearsay, and this further tangles networks.

Perhaps the FDA should focus only on safety and leave the efficacy to market-based consumer trials.  Abolishing drug laws would give taxpayers direct access to drugs of choice, and MDs could assume advisory and educational support but not have to play middleman in the government’s war on taxpayers.

 

 

 

 

 

Memories, June, 2007

 

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Above:  The Department of Human Resources (DHR) building in Columbus, GA

In June, 2007, I was finishing a short term psychiatry contract in the public health system in Columbus, GA.  Columbus is one of Georgia’s largest cities, on the Alabama border, and home to Fort Benning, one of Georgia’s largest military bases.

In August, 2007, I would attempt to retire from psychiatry, by letting both Georgia medical licenses and federal DEA licenses expire.  The stress was literally ruining my health.  Seeing patients was my favorite part, but the system itself was so dysfunctional that I risked everything if I missed a call.

BUILDING DESIGN

Saturday, June 2, 2007 – I fantasize about taking a sledgehammer to the walls at work.  It’s a maze, inefficient, unnecessarily confusing, and downright dangerous, with too many blind alleys, locked doors, and long, narrow halls.  Everything is so disconnected from everything else that the entire organization functions like a mindless blob of quivering protoplasm.  Individual effort dies in situ, never achieving enough momentum to spread beyond the 12’ X 12’ walls of the private offices.

These offices all have the  latest electronic equipment and programs, though, upgraded too often to be useful.  But they have zero reference books, so I bring my own.   I had to retrieve my own DSM-IV from the 500-foot walk to my other office, because the computer only takes diagnosis numbers rather than words.  I have not memorized diagnosis codes and never intend to.   Of course, the intake office does not have a DSM-IV.

HEAVEN

Saturday, June 2, 2007 – Anybody ever consider that heaven is not having to pay taxes?

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WASTE OF TREES

Sunday, June 3, 2007 – Columbus is full of railroad tracks.  As I negotiated 15th Street and around a tangle of other streets, I went under a RR trestle where Norfolk-Southern cars filled with fresh wood chips, piled high, smelled the air of pine.

How sad for those trees, I thought.  Their chopped chips are probably going to make junk mail, paperwork, and packaging.  This while their fellows are burning in a hundred square miles of uncontained forest fire in southeast Georgia.

CURRENT EVENTS

Thursday, June 7, 2007 – I’m becoming bored with current events.  I’ve had fun on the internet message boards, but the columnists remain uninspired – from my perspective – and I battle basic assumptions, like the belief that competition is good.  So, I approach it with the cavalier feather stroke of playfulness.  I balance discussions about nuclear proliferation in Iran with questions about paranoid counter threat tactics by the US.  How much are taxpayers paying for nuclear proliferation under our noses at home?

Lah de dah  . . .

Another world, another opportunity to blow it up, or not, depending on your reference point.  Worlds split off from each other, I believe, and those who believe in nuclear holocaust may well travel along a world chain of events toward that outcome.

Moi?  I’ll let that car pass on by, to avoid being swept up in that drive chain.  I see myself as an illusion-popper, clarifying ambiguities, flipping coins, turning phrases, bringing a sense of hopefulness through flexible thinking and clever (to me) juxtapositions.

Slowly, I see others becoming more confident, more outspoken, more imaginative.  Less victims, more involved, responsive, and reflective.

GONNADOS

Friday, June 8, 2007 – The world is overrun with “gonnados” who expect others to pay huge up-front costs for questionable future rewards.  There was an online Washington Post column extolling the new president of Arizona State University, for his grand vision of developing better communications between Americans.  President Crow starts by firing 20 of 23 deans on the faculty.  This communicates clearly to me.

Next, he creates lots of programs – a biodiversity center, for one – in order to make Arizona State a bigger place, competitive with Harvard and the like.

Another empire builder, think I.  I post my view that he’s another “ivory tower elitist with more theories than sense, standing on a soapbox bought with other people’s money.”  Another megalo-maniacal world changer, think I.  Yawn.

He talks about “stovepipe” mentality, but if he has replaced most of the deans, he’s just creating a different stovepipe for those he’s indebted to, or who share his agenda.

PRESCRIPTION SNAFUS

Thursday, June 14, 2007—I discovered yesterday that writing a prescription for something like Geodon doesn’t necessarily mean the patient will get Geodon.  Yesterday’s patient got four days’ worth of samples because that’s all the pharmacy had, so by the time I saw her, she hadn’t taken it for over three weeks.  By then both she and I decided she didn’t need it.

I’m beginning to wonder if these meds work at all.  As Seth* says, your beliefs determine your reality.  Those who improve give the pills the credit, but I’m not so sure. Antidepressants like Prozac “change your brain chemistry,” they say, but so does any life experience, and the fact of going to the doctor may change it even more.  Perhaps pills are merely transitional objects, tools to link mind with body, as valid for relieving suffering as faith.

I wonder how many people would take antidepressants and the like if they were over the counter.  To hold the claim of potency to the measuring stick of free market capitalism would be an experiment worth trying.

SIMPLICITY

Saturday, June 16, 2007 – Everything has always seemed so simple and obvious to me, issues of right and wrong, justice, fairness.  As I have come to know myself, I’ve shed projections from others, thanking psychiatry for teaching about projections and projective identification.  Psychiatry supplies the words to describe confused feelings.  People’s lack of clarity leads them to assume way too much and act accordingly.

I grew up believing I was potentially a brutally violent person, in need of rigid self-control, yet I’ve learned the opposite is true.  My childhood question, “Why can’t people just love each other?” remains as valid today as ever, and I’ve yet to learn the answer.  My nature has been to look for things to like, and I can usually find something, especially if I’m in a situation not easy to leave.

I’ve always felt safe and protected, though, not only by parents – although they certainly helped – but by life.  Not flamboyantly psychic, I suppose, I’m merely supersensitive emotionally, although there is no objective standard to measure this.  I don’t even believe I’m supersensitive, merely more aware than others, and more trusting of my perceptions.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

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Sunday, June 17, 2007 – My desire for solitude stems from a wish to know myself apart from others’ projections and judgments.  I suppose even as a child I was trying to reconcile what I felt with what adults said, and with what I saw.  Basic truths boil down to one truth:  God is love, and I want to do god proud, I will aspire to demonstrate her love in every thought, word, and deed.

It sounds sappy, inconsistent with my tendency to scream things like “Back off, asshole!” to the gas guzzling red truck tail-gaters with mag wheels and attitudes.  This is innately loving, I figure, because if I didn’t yell or otherwise show him where his rights end and mine begin, how would he learn?  If he already knew, he wouldn’t be tailgating.  And just because he’s behaving like an asshole now, it’s not necessarily a character trait, especially if he backs off or passes.  The loving hand of God therefore works through me to teach such testosterone-poisoned creatures how to grow in grace, in terms they can understand.

I’ve found taking my foot off the gas works, too, if yelling doesn’t, and I’ve allowed many such a creature to rush ahead to a destiny too frenzied for me.

DEMOCRACY IN AMERICA, ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE, 1835 AND 1840

Monday, June 18, 2007 – de Tocqueville cites the lawyer class in America as the equivalent of the aristocracy, and the jury as the means by which every citizen sits in judgment over every other.  It strikes me that we do have a society that looks to laws to solve social problems, and perhaps the preponderance of lawyers in government has distorted our national perspective.

DRUG LAWS

Thursday, June 21, 2007 – I flip flop from thinking the drugs I prescribe are dangerous to thinking they are useless, validating Seth’s* assertion that the belief determines the effectiveness.  I really do believe drug laws create an artificial mystique about their effects.  Everyone would claim this is doctor turf, the license to prescribe, but I contend that this is a front for the government and pharma to falsely inflate the price, as well as presumed benefits and risks.

 

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*Seth is the channeled entity who spoke through medium/author Jane Roberts.  There are several books in the Seth series.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The View from Below

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I shoveled the dock steps the other day.  This was part of my latest health initiative, with the purpose of swimming in the river.

Now, most people don’t have a dock or concrete steps to a polluted river where they can swim.  Most people haven’t grown up on said river and watched it change gradually over the past 60 or so years.  It is a blessing and a curse.

While doing this mundane labor, which with clean-up took about two hours, I had time to ponder many worldwide concerns.  First, I listened to the constant buzz of helicopters at Hunter Army Airfield, only a couple of miles–as the helicopter flies–from my house.  There were also military aircraft flying overhead, as I live only 28 degrees off Hunter’s flight paths, and those planes fly low, low, low over my head. This reminded me that the US is engaged in perpetual wars, and I live in a war zone, what with the strong military presence loud, clear, and constant.

Next, I thought about the Clean Water Act of 1972, when the Army Corps of Engineers got jurisdiction over all “wetlands” including the “hydrophytic” marsh that surrounds my small spit of land.  I wondered if the AC of E would fine me for taking mud off the steps and depositing it in the center of my land, which is mine but not mine in that I pay property taxes but can’t modify it.  This spit of land has been sliding into the river for years and now becomes flooded in spring and fall tides.  The channels in the area are also filling in, because no one dredges them anymore, even though the drainage ditches are perpetually clogged and contribute to frequent, severe flooding in Savannah.

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The local movers and shakers would prefer to dump poisonous malathion by helicopter on the entire ecosystem than drain the bogs where mosquitoes breed. That the Army Corps of Engineers pays Chatham County to control mosquitoes, yet operates the largest mosquito habitat in two states does not seem important to anyone but me.  That the dredge material from current harbor deepening project will increase the mosquito habitat at this international port presents no red flags to those who are developing vaccines for mosquito-borne disease but are blithely nonchalant about the cushy habitat they are creating.

This brings me home to the polluted river, which still has fish and shrimp, but not as many as in my childhood.  I figure if fish can swim in it, so can I.  I’ve been stomping around, crabbing, shrimping, boating, water skiing, and swimming in that water since I can remember, so know it well.  While shoveling, I thought about “climate change,” and the claim that the oceans are rising.  I also remembered reading about how land is washing into the oceans and wondered if the oceanic rise is relative to the land’s sinking, in a leveling out that would lead to the oceans’ getting shallower. Shallow water heats more quickly than deep water, as any swimmer knows, and holds more heat, so this could explain some of the climatic changes.

So then I thought about President Trump’s withdrawal from the Paris Accord and wondered whether it makes any difference in the long run.  I’ve never been a fan of government solutions to government-supported problems, like the fact that deforestation is a major contributor to climate change.  I don’t believe in paying corporations not to cut trees (as in “carbon credits”) and would prefer instead to reduce demand for paper, like junk mail and single-use packaging.  International Paper, the owner of primo rain forest in South America, and a huge polluter of the Savannah River and air, does not recycle paper.

That got me to thinking about the enormous amount of methane produced by the marsh, the fact that methane and natural gas are the same thing, and that Germany is the world’s leader in recycling (70%).  In addition, Germany has to import garbage to fuel its waste-to-energy plants that provide so much of its heat and electricity. There is also new technology to capture methane produced by landfill, but the US lags behind places like China in its adoption of these promising technologies.  No wonder Angela Merkel was frustrated by Trump’s withdrawal from the Paris Accord. Germany is the world leader in sustainability, and should be so acknowledged.

So, Donald Trump may believe coal gives the US a financial advantage, but this is short-sighted.  Apparently China is the largest purchaser of US coal exports, but China built 431 waste-to-energy plants in 2016, so it may not need our coal much longer.  With the reduced cost of solar, India is also going greener.  China is the biggest carbon-emission nation in the world, and the US is second.  Russia is third, and India fourth, according to Google 2011 data.  Americans probably generate the most waste, though, 4.5 pounds of garbage per person per day, and recycling has decreased, now down to about 30 percent.

So, while I solved my personal problem of how to swim without getting mud between my toes and oyster shell cuts on my feet, I also solved a lot of world problems, and I never had to leave home.

 

 

 

 

The Problem with Immortality

Several people have stated over the years that man’s biggest problem is overpopulation.  These are usually people who have propagated and have adult progeny who have also propagated.  I don’t believe they were volunteering to be euthanized themselves, so the obvious question becomes one of who gets chosen to solve the overpopulation problem.

As I move through time and reach official “retirement” age, my perspective has changed.  I see the uncomfortable dilemma of feeling superfluous on the planet, reinforced by a youth culture that obviously or covertly resents the Baby Boomers for having robbed the universal till to secure comfortable retirements for themselves.

If the world is overpopulated, then war, disease, and famine work to right the scales.  If the mystics and other seers are right, there are many dimensions beyond the physical one, and many worlds being created all the time.  Even the astrophysicists say the universe is expanding.  Isaac Asimov anticipated overpopulation in his first sci-fi novel, Pebble in the Sky.  In that futuristic book, entire galaxies had been colonized, and there was mandatory euthanasia on Earth at age 60.  Other sci-fi novels present similar scenarios

It appears death is necessary in physical reality, to make room for new life.  If everyone were physically immortal, and lacking room to expand, the Earth would become crowded with humanity, as some claim has already happened.  Longevity is blamed, along with other factors.

The dilemma of immortality—or longevity—becomes one of what to do about overcrowding?  Presuming people continue to be born, a race of immortal beings that requires physical space must live somewhere.  Thus do the sci-fi novels delve into colonizing other places or, as in Pebble, making euthanasia mandatory.

When animal populations grow too large for their habitats, and if they can’t move, self-correcting mechanisms serve to reduce the population.  In human history, wars, disease, famine, infertility, homosexuality, abortion, infanticide, human sacrifice, expulsion, and even cannibalism have served that purpose.

Few would deny that Americans are the most wasteful people on the planet.  Not only is “consumerism” encouraged, but it is a source of pride for many.  It comes at a huge cost, though, as we must live in the garbage dump we are creating.  If overpopulation is the source of our problems–leading to war, pestilence, and all the other natural and unnatural mechanisms used to lighten the planet’s human load—then it makes social and personal sense to curb excess and waste.

My minimalist lifestyle represents a symbolic effort to curb my own excesses.  I chose not to have children, for instance.  I didn’t want children dependent on me, but I also recognized there are plenty of other people propagating, so my contribution in that sphere was unnecessary.

As I move through time, towards the age of superfluousness, and even towards a time of consuming more than I produce–along with my Baby Boomer cohort–I have to wonder if it becomes my social responsibility to get out of the way.  The growing support for physician-assisted suicide and euthanasia seems motivated in part by the perceived burdensomeness of the elderly.  The alternative, for those who still have some living to do, would naturally be to remain “productive,” useful, and to continue contributing in some way to society.

There is no cure for death, in the time-space construct we have chosen.  There is hope for healthy and happy longevity, one in which age does bring wisdom, grace, depth, and understanding—valuable commodities that money can’t buy.