Choose you by the voice of this people.

 

The scriptures tell us that the voice

of the people made the choice

of who would govern them at times;

with virtue lead or pursue crimes.

The blessing of free choice remains

part of our sacred growing pains.

Today's Timericks.

 

The bladder of an old man is a sight for sorry eyes/a sneeze or cough produces an uncomfortable surprise/at night he's at the mercy of a single thirsty sip/as back and forth tween bed and throne he's forced to gaily skip/do not grow old, my chipper friends, or you will find your bladder/turns on you with cruelty like the foul puff adder.

I welcome all the wonders of a winter fairyscape/the icicles that gouge me and the windshields needing scrape/the sidewalks iced and waiting for a single misplaced step/the wind chill index reading as outside I bravely schlep/today it's warm and pleasant, but tomorrow it may be/the worst damn blizzard we have seen in a century.

Not yet called and holding tight, the race remains capricious/all this waiting seems almost to be a thing seditious/but whoever wins the prize, there's one thing that's for certain/With disaster this here land continues to be flirtin'.

Ev'rybody eats fast food/as they sit at home and brood/what is there to do but eat/watch Netflix and send a tweet/Hermits living hungrily/we depend on KFC.

Republicans will not concede/their fearless leader failed to lead/with heads secure in gritty sand/they will not take the proper stand/and so it's time to bid adieu/to a party up the flue. 

do not vote by Sharpie/it invalidates the slate/and you will be arrested/to confront an awful fate/better to have millstones/hung around your neck because/when the cops have got you/they will treat you like a scuz.

 

Where to go for privacy/A Ferris wheel or the Dead Sea?/There's no way I can get much done/when staying home is too much fun/I need a quiet working place/Perhaps I'll fly to outer space!

Today's timericks.

 

Who cares about the President/as long as bacon's resident/upon my plate, in lavish piles/I'll greet the next Boss with but smiles/I'm complacent and content/as long as rashers I can scent.

Rupert Murdoch is the man/ev'ryone just loves to pan/he's too bossy, he's too old/he has gotten too much gold/newspapers now all agree/he is Simon F. Legree/Me, I think the poor old guy/just craves a piece of mutton pie. 

The dinosaurs did not die out from meteor impact/volcanoes didn't kill 'em off, nor caveman artifact/what did 'em in was weariness from natural selection/when they decided to invent that lethal first election.

A hurricane in Florida is old news nowadays/they smash into the beaches there as if they'd come to graze/If my home were in Florida, I'd heed the Bible tale/and build myself an ark and wait for one more storm to sail.

More states are voting for the weed that banishes dull care/the marijuana era has arrived without fanfare/you'd think that this would satisfy us in the face of doom/but now the stoners want to legalize their darling shroom.  

In Paris we will sign no deals/despite tree huggers' loud appeals/we think that coal and gasoline/are patriotic in extreme/this 'global warming' is a joke/we simply need more chimney smoke!

in Sonoma's wine country/fires still on are on a spree/all the grapes have sizzled up/there will be no cheery cup/vintners need a brand new goal/they should start to sell charcoal.

a happy meal for breakfast doesn't thrill me in the least/I NEED some grits and pancakes to appease my inner beast/no rubber eggs or hash browns damp for this guy, if you please/I prefer an omelette that eschews all process cheese/besides, I'm always late to get to work so haven't time/to stop at a McDonald's for a culinary crime.

Malicious music played by folk/with too much money is a joke/feuding mansions makes me yearn/for people who must work and earn/all their daily bread alone/without a trust fund or a throne/give me simple peasants whose/brawls stem from just honest booze. 

People with money

 

People with money know just what is best

for all the downtrodden and homeless oppressed.

They talk up the cause of the poor with great zeal,

and their use of words makes a wonderful spiel.

They've never known real poverty, it is true;

but why should that keep them from their bugaboo?

Fortunate, blessed with a work ethic drive,

they have no idea what it takes to survive

the ache that a pauper who stays down too long

feels, like the thud of a dissonant gong.

Well, let them spout all their platitudes neat --

it won't hurt or help those who live on the street.

Today's timericks.

 

This election is complex/almost like there were a hex/who will win nobody knows/least of all those polling schmoes/but whoever we will choose/somehow seems like we still lose.  

Gimme some ol' TV show/that's as boring as gray snow/something couch potatoes dote on/and never ever have to vote on/this election I'll survive/by shutting down my brain's hard drive.

I'm going to the beach since plague/upon the sand seems very vague/what microbe could there ever be/upon the blue waves of the sea?/I'll build a castle, sip Mai Tais/beneath the azure tropic skies/and should it happen I'm infected/at least my tan will be perfected.

They were angry because of the word

 

The word of God makes some folks steam;

because it wrecks their carnal dream.

But Galilee or Sinai,

those words ne'er slide or modify. 

The wise believe in them always;

the rest will flee from craze to craze.

Gathered Home.

 

Gathered home, at last to be

safe within God's family;

loved and cherishing likewise,

viewing others sans disguise.

Generations bound so fast

that none will ever be outcast. 

What are friends for?

 

THE PROBLEM:

Here’s the background:

Yesterday, Sunday, I was sitting in my living room trying to find something good on Netflix or TCM to while away the rest of the day. I was feeling low and dispirited, and I said a silent prayer that one of my nearby kids might come for a visit. Because even if they only spend ten minutes, that always cheers me up.

Lo and behold my youngest daughter Daisy drove up not a minute after I’d prayed, to ask me if I wanted to go for a walk with her, since the weather was so fine and she had been in the neighborhood visiting a friend anyways.

“I would love to!” I told her happily. “But just give me a minute, will you?”

I was suddenly completely nauseated and had to run into the bathroom.

When I came out I realized that I couldn’t go anywhere for a while that afternoon, so I sadly told Daisy I’d have to take a rain check. We hugged and she took off, since after the walk she was going over to my daughter Sarah’s house for dinner.

I love knowing my kids feel they can come over unannounced anytime they want.

So what happened to me?

I can’t figure it out. I was feeling blue, but not physically ill before Daisy showed up. When I saw her little car out of my patio window I was ecstatic -- I think I even shouted out loud in joy.  Then suddenly I got a terrific bout of nausea, which kept me from going out with her. We’ve gone out many times before.

Can you offer any ideas or insight into this strange reaction?

The only thing I can think of is that, psychologically, I enjoy playing the ‘victim’ to my children’s ‘neglect’ so much that when something threatened this mental construct my body immediately sabotaged me to keep me from acknowledging the reality that my children don’t really neglect me and do like my company.

Such a self diagnosis frightens me -- it indicates a deep ‘glitch’ in me that I’m not sure I can fix by myself.

Any input you can offer will be appreciated.

*************************************************

THE RESPONSES:

I was on the phone with Sarah yesterday, probably during that exact time because she told me Daisy was arriving any minute, explaining to her that I keep putting myself in these situations where I am completely overwhelmed with everything. Almost as if my body craves being in that state because that’s my “safe space” and I know how to handle it. I think we all have something like that, a sort of ingrained level of anxiety that we lived in for so long that we mistakenly believe it’s the right way to be. Is there hope for us? I think so, and I think the first step to changing is noting there is a problem. There is your Dr. Madelaine Diagnosis!

Dear Tim,

Even if this were a recurring event, I would not have the knowledge to try to guess what might be going on.  But since it appears to be an isolated incident, I think it is a self-defeating mistake to conclude that it indicates a "deep glitch" in your psyche.  In my experience, something exciting can have gastro-intestinal consequences, even for someone like me who has essentially no digestive maladies and a very stable mental state.  If it starts to occur regularly in some situations (as it does with my wife, who has digestive problems), learn to adjust and accept the fact that things don't always work out when the situation is unexpected.

Best,

Larry  

Thanks for sharing and for asking for my input. 

Of course, I'm not an expert on such things (and furthermore am not omniscient), so I can only give you hints and guesses. But there may be some shreds of truth or wisdom in what I have to say.

Here's my speculative diagnosis:

(1) What you fear (a psychosomatic reaction designed to keep you a victim) might possibly be true, though I doubt it. If it is true, I don't think your situation is hopeless. The fact that you are aware of the possibility is itself a great step in the right direction and suggests that the "mental construct" you describe does not have complete power over you.

(2) Another possibility is mere coincidence. You might actually have had some gastrointestinal issue that happened to arise (I stress the word "arise") just at that moment.

(3) Another possibility is akin to something described in King Lear. Gloucester's death is described in this way: "his flaw’d heart -- alack, too weak the conflict to support! -- twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief, burst smilingly" (Act 5, scene 3). In your case, it might be "his flawed stomach or intestines or internal organs generally." What I'm suggesting is that the quick transition from feeling depressed to feeling ecstatic might have been too much for you -- your digestive system was perhaps "too weak the conflict [of emotions] to support."

(4) Finally, there's the possibility of a combination of #2 and #3 (or even a little bit of #1, #2, and #3). In other words, you may already have been not feeling too well, digestively, and the heightened emotions may have sparked the full reaction.

On top of all of that, I think you should be grateful for the tender mercy of a visit, right after you were hoping and praying for one. A quick visit and a hug, while not all you had hoped for or might have had, absent your tummy problems, was still a great blessing.

I hope my speculations are helpful!

Bruce 

This is not your case so I shouldn't even mention it, but have many times thought I didn't deserve a particular blessing and therefore couldn't accept it would come true, or worse.  Not long after marrying Lee Wing, illogical thoughts kept coming into my head that I hated her, even though she was being so kind and loving and good to me.  She had done NOTHING to deserve anything other than love and praise from me.  She was way beyond what I thought I could ever have in my life.  It took a while to get that one out of my system but it did go away after talking with a friend about it.

So, I suspect your response will go away soon, if it is psychological.

I'm not sure how exactly to advise you, but there is something familiar about this.  I find myself regularly slipping into melancholy nowadays--more so than when I was actively working and I think it may have something to do with trying to handle idleness now that I have so much unstructured time on my hands.  When I was busy with the printing business, I often had little time to wile away.  I would frequently be working late into the evening responding to emails and printing posters that would need to be delivered the next day.  With that gone now that I am retired and in much the same temporal circumstances as you are (basically home-bound, with little regular need to leave the house), I have a lot of time for reflection.  I find not all of it is good reflection.  I have a natural tendency to brood over past failures/mistakes, etc., which still trigger feelings of sorrow, shame etc. 

I have been told in the past that I live life like a victim--wallowing in self-pity, not believing that any effort will actually yield positive results but, rather, only expose how weak I am inside with the consequence of being horribly humiliated.  (That has reminded me of a statement by Eric Hoffer, that "the resentment of the weak does not spring from any injustice done them but from the sense of their inadequacy and impotence." In short, the weak "hate not wickedness" but themselves for being weak--in other words, self-loathing).  I tend to resist other's efforts to extend praise when I have actually done something praise-worthy, even while at the same time I crave such praise.  In other words, I want it, but can never convince myself that I deserve it. There may be something in there that comports with your desire to see your kids, while at the same time reacting in a dysfunctional way when they actually do show up (I don't deserve this nice gesture, etc.).

Your observation that this is a "mental construct" rings true. I think isolation and inactivity frame us into a state of mind where we cannot see our value (Look up The Changing of the Guard episode of the Twilight Zone series 3, episode 37 on Netflix--it always brings me to tears).  I noticed this past summer that a daily mood-elevator for me was spending an hour or two working on the landscaping project I set for myself a year ago.  I would lawn-edge a perimeter around the home which I would then fill with crushed rock within which I could then plant bushes, shrubs, etc. Abutting the edging on the lawn side I would set into the ground one-foot-long "bullet pavers" that would give a nice look to the edging as well as serve as a "mow strip" (which means you run the mower with the wheels on one side over the pavers and would therefor not need to use a weed-whacker to give it a nice trim). It was a 300-foot project which meant digging a trench and inserting (and leveling, and straightening) 300 pavers. Then putting down the plastic edging and then covering the space to the house with landscape fabric and finally spreading about 14 tons of crushed rock.  I did everything by myself except spreading the rock.  I had the Elders quorum assist and 8 men (all much stronger than I) did the job in one hour.

My point is, having a project to spend time on (this took from about April, when I picked up the pavers, to October, when I had the brethren spread the rock) gave me a reason to get up and doing and also gave me a reason to feel that I had done something worthwhile during the day.  I also learned that I could accomplish a big task by breaking it up into smaller ones, such as setting a goal to dig 20 or 30 feet of trench one day and then set 10-15 pavers the next.  I could see the project progress day by day, and that was a satisfying experience. It helped break the "mental construct" that I was a ne'er-do-well and now has got me thinking of other yard projects that I might want to do next summer.  Like actually planting some bushes and shrubs, etc., and cutting the grass real short and then spreading several tons of pulverized dirt over it to fill in all the low spots and end up with a smooth lawn where you won't twist your ankle walking across it, etc.  Interestingly, this project got me used to the idea that I didn't need to get everything done in a day or a week.  If it took all summer (which it did) that would be OK.  My usual response to long-term goals is to get overwhelmed at the very thought and give up, because it was obviously hopeless (note I accounted a summer-long project as a "long-term" goal.  None of this several-years type of thing like pursuing a coursework regimen to obtain a degree--even my college years were broken up by military service and working, etc.). 

But, now that yard work is done for the year, I need, and am trying to impose on myself, some other "routines" that help to break my normal negative "mental construct." I try to pray in the morning, first thing (note I said "try"), and then read some in the Book of Mormon and then "try" to listen to a conference talk or two (Joanne is much better at this than I am) and I have several books checked out that I--occasionally--dip into in order to fill up my time.

All of these efforts have the effect of pulling me, at least a little bit, out of my negative mental construct that I think is partly a result of being at that time of life where I am not as physically strong or flexible as I used to be and I see myself as being a "needy" person, something I've never wanted to be. Also I tire more quickly and fear myself as being in my "waning" years.

So, I don't know the causative elements of your psychological mystery, but there may be some concrete practical actions that can mitigate it's effects.  Sacred music I find also helps a lot.  Abide With Me  and Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow are two favorites.  Listening to the words of such beautiful hymns never fails to choke me up.  (Even writing this clouds my eyes). President Eyring observed that feeling the spirit is evidence that the atonement is working in your life and can be a means the Lord uses to send the message that you are forgiven. Another thing I have a very hard time believing. I definitely do not have Joseph Smith's "native cheery temperament."

I hope something in there helps...

Jim

Hello Tim:
I'm always interested to hear from you, even if it's about some strange event in your life.

This is indeed strange and I have no idea if your hypothesis is on track or not. An hour of research on credible websites might shed some light. There's no doubt that changing mental constructs affects our health...it can be traumatic. Emotional trauma has negative consequences on our physical health.

Here's what I do know. I have two retired friends...both in their 70s...both are non-religious and never have been; both have no children, both never legally married. One is quite spiritual, the other not so much. Both are single. Both in pretty good health. One is here in BKK, the other in Florida but has spent 9 months a year in BKK over the last 6-8 years or so. 

The man in Florida is the most optimistic, kind and positive man I know. He loves life. Nothing seems to bother him. He lost his future as a professional violinist back in the 1960s due to the Vietnam War. He ended up working as a tour bus driver for 30 years. He loved it. He loves life and is a joy to hang out with. He is always positive. I don't know how he does it or if it was built into him. Everyone would be better off if they had his attitude or his "natural" way of being. (He has very little money)

The other man who has been here for almost 5 years now, he also enjoys life, has a simple retirement and avoids drama. He dates, meets friends, exercises, travels around a bit, meets new people...he also is very pleasant to be around. He has no boxes to check. No lists to finish. He doesn't plan more than a few days in advance...and he's happy with it all. He also does not have a lot of money (lives mostly SS check to SS check).

They are both at peace with the world and with their lives. Based on the construct that I was given from the cradle...these men should be miserable, yet they are not. They are happy. The process of getting to their level of happiness may simply be letting go and letting life happen and accepting whatever happens... I'm not sure. And I do know that whatever my approach has been, or the approach I was handed, it has not worked for me.

Regarding this specific event, maybe you could call Daisy and explain exactly what happened and apologize and let her know how delighted you were that she stopped by and how sad you were that you suddenly got sick and couldn't walk. That might help you feel better and also let her know how much you love her. A win win!

Those are my honest thoughts!

Cheers!

Today's timericks.

 

I used to feast on spicy food/when I was in a fiendish mood/but now my tummy and my tongue/remind me I'm no longer young/the burning and its aftermath/put me into a warm sitz bath.

a sink full of dishes awaits my inspection/I view them as sinkholes of filth and infection/if I had a dishwasher I would feel better/so I'm sending you this quick fundraising letter.

I wish I owned some Clorox stock; I'd be a millionaire/then on a private isle I'd sit without a single care/in fact if I were really frank and had a heart of brick/I'd look forward to more people getting mighty sick!

My t-shirt has an odor/but it is not boutique/it has a hint of rancid/ and of the dead antique/but if you'd like to scratch it/I wouldn't turn you down/just be prepared for tingles/of something dropped and brown. 

Fed with manna in the wilderness

 

Fed with manna in distress

God his children all can bless

when they travel in his light,

shunning wrong and doing right.