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Time to Relax

By admin

April 16, 2012

The heart-doctor put to me straight.

You have got to get serious about relaxing.  Your heart cannot take more stress.  I recommend you start right away.In short, the doctor had ordered me to, aggressively relax.

Thinking about the problem and possible solutions, of course, made the blood pump faster.

This left me with the task of solving a problem that became worse when I thought about it. It was like choosing who to vote for in the next congressional election.

Several possible solutions floated up without my thinking:  take long walks, listen to birds, and practice yoga.  Maybe I could take up the art of cursing—and dump my stress on those around me.

I switched my computer to u-tube-and downloaded everyone’s favorite—George Harrison’s: “Here Comes the Sun”.   The cute guitar tweedle got me thinking;  thinking about global warming,  angry congressmen, human denial, and what it would be like to be caught facing a 40 foot high wall of tsunami- water loaded  to the teeth with panicking sharks.

“Let it be”—started me thinking of about the lassie faire economic policies of the tea party, which could leave me out of a job.

I accidently hit a Van Halen icon on the u-tube suggestion list.  This act ripped open a guitar riff that nearly made my heart explode.  I quickly turned off the computer.

Taking a walk, the only birds I heard were crows and seagulls. However, I did hear a garbage truck grinding its loader against the sound of banging trash cans.

I went back inside, turned on the computer again and typed “relaxation videos”.

Up came videos of rain; rain falling on a roof, rain falling in a forest, rain falling on the surface of a lake. Outside, the midday sun hit the concrete walls that surround our house with a fierce intensity.

I searched through hundreds of waterfall videos; some with real sounds, other with falling water sounds mixed into music.  I discovered relaxation videos that provide the opportunity to listen to all kinds of insects.  I had grown up in house located next the woods and had peaceful memories of insect sounds outside my bedroom window.

I typed ants.

There was no ant-sound video.

Drats, it would have been fun watching creatures work harder than me, for the same wasted purpose.

I hit a long low waterfall picture and a bubbling video began to flood the computer screen. As my mind melded into the continuous sound of bubbling water; I began—- worrying about running out of water.  At some point the rain stops, so not so long after, the waterfalls will have to stop.  What is the lag between running out of rain and running out water for the fall?  And –getting relaxed—just when is  the world going to run out of rain?  I mean at some point—the sky has to run out of clouds.

This is what I learned about relaxing; you don’t stop thinking; your brain only wanders about a clutter of half-witted thoughts.

That was it. Global warming deniers are just regular people, like me, who are aggressively relaxing.

A friend called and recommended that I practice yoga.

I began to wonder? Why does everybody practice yoga? Is there some big yoga tournament coming up?

And:

What happens if I qualify for the tournament?  Could I get evicted from a game of yoga for sneezing? How about burping? Could a well timed burp in the middle of yoga competition create some sports scandal?

And:

What would happen if people practiced yoga while sitting, legs folded, on an ant bed. Or in a rain-storm.  Or under a waterfall?

I eventually went back to u-tube.

The u-tube bird videos made me think of the crows and seagulls outside my window.

Crows Caws: brokers scrambling inside the Chicago trading pits. Seagulls: corporate raiders—swooping down to steal our daily bed.

Finally, Paul Mcarthy’s song, Yesterday—resonated.

I began to think, peacefully, “This song is about me, today. How did Paul Mcarthy predict my future—by singing about my present daydream about yesterday; yesterday when my heart was healthy and my memory aggressive.

I looked out the window. The world had not run out rain.  I turned off the computer and watched the drops bounce off the concrete wall next to our house. The back of my brain—floated a message, just wait—because –soon, the next message will be:

—tweedle –deedle—

Here Comes the Sun.

It was, I hate to admit, alright.

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