Mr. or Mrs. Fixit

Perhaps we should look at our bodies as a Do-it-yourself-repair shop. Mr. or Mrs. Fixit. Not to be confused with husband's who, instead of letting women vent, try to fix the problem when nothing is broken except females vent.

Thus, let me repeat, the body is a do-it-yourself-repair shop. Although we may need medicine, the orthodox method of expecting pills at visits is not always the answer. Good ol Dr. Lessenden taught me that. Some times, we just need time. I think we become more learnerd, (made up word meaning learned and learned more), through our children's maladies and our friends and family members who have diagnosis that we are able to understand through conversations and reading. We all are hop-on-the-Internet and read about it people. That is a good thing because the twelve minute doctor's appointment does not give time to ask questions that physician's used to have time to answer. Well, not my door knob doctor, anyway.

We are, and have been a product of over stimulating foods, medicine, excesses of sugar and starches. Old Trunks fed her children French fries at restaurants because they were finger foods. I still see it today.

I do not wish to eat yeast dissolved in water for breakfast, string beans and zucchini soup, raw milk, cooked celery, and more yeast dissolved in water at bed time. Yet, if someone proved to me that this sort of eating would take the arthritis from my hands, I might consider it. The thing about it is...my hands didn't get stiff over night, and if you are arthritic, neither did yours. My method of care is to buy a lighter rod and reel to cast for bass. We could eat for a month on the price of tackle.

This blog is not about trying to get anyone to do anything, including myself. It is a reflection of a society living on over processed, insecticide sprayed, toxic matters of tea, coffee, chocolate, sweetened sodas, and medicated with stimulating drugs.

Today's wish for you, is that you are free of nagging pain, stabbing sensations, feelings of pressure, vague aches, intestinal disturbances--even though, for many this is the way of life.

In a book off the shelf in the north bedroom, which I browsed through recently, I found I had circled a thought: Energy is life itself.

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