In 2002, I met a fellow in an online discussion group and we became internet friends and probably exchanged several hundred emails about this and that. We were kinda out of the box, but in different ways. He was a technology scientist, I was mystic. He started calling me Don Quixote, and I started calling him Sancho Panza.
Sancho sends out email blast to people he knows. He sent this today.What if you could
Dr. Ben Kim's Newsletter
July 17, 2023
Dear Reader,
What if you could see everyone's date of death in an imaginary bubble above their head?
How would knowing the day that people will die impact the way you see and treat them?
Take a moment to think about the people around you, those you know best. Are you consistently treating them as you would if you knew the precise day of their departure?
What would you change about your approach to life if you knew your own date of expiration and that of those around you?
As Achilles reminds us, everything is more beautiful because our days are numbered. Let's remember this, especially in how we treat others.
Let's make those closest to us feel deeply loved for who they are, and let's do this through our actions, not just through words.
Let's not leave anyone with that sickening feeling of being seen only as a source of personal gain, be it financial or social.
Let's look to see how we can best be helpful to those who most need our support.
Let's develop our listening and understanding skills, and let's nurture a genuine desire to help others feel understood.
Let's remember to show heartfelt thanks for every act of kindness that comes our way, even through a friendly wave to another driver who signals for us to go first.
A true lover of wisdom has hands too busy to hold on to anything! He learns by doing and every pebble in the path becomes her teacher! Oink
I replied to Sancho
Well said. Tough to live, sometimes. I'm trying to find a veterinarian to put me down when I feel ready to go. I have talked to a number of people, who think, as I do, that there is something seriously fucked up about putting down our beloved, suffering pets, while requiring us to suffer as long as possible and spend as much money as possible to do it
Sancho
I just had that done to Jake, last Friday, it was painless, and his heart just stopped.... very painful for me and my daughter who were there holding him, but he was OK! I tend to agree with you on this... there should be some painless way to depart at our own time! My poor Mom stuck around for almost ten years in a limbo state... Parkinson is the worst... you are relatively being spared a lot of shit! Well, I shouldn't say that... I don't know what you are going through!
Me
I'm not to the wanting to check out stage yet, but I see that day coming. Meanwhile, some doctors and nutritional supplements keep me going, and I decided yesterday try getting some exercise, despite the last time I worked out most days at a local YMCA, I caught a bad cold and had to get a prescription to keep me from catching pneumonia, which I am prone to get.
I saw your email about Jake, and recalled how I hard I had cried over the death of a dog, George, my first basset hound, and much later a cat, whom I named MacPolecat, since my 2nd wife and I had a Scottish terrier named MacPollock.
I was maybe 10. George got run over by a car when I was at school. My nanny Cha grabbed and hugged me when I got home, and told me what had happened. I bawled and bawled and bawled. I went and got my .22 rifle and loaded it and was going looking for the mother fucker who had killed George. My parents were out of town, and Cha called my Uncle Leo, my father's older brother, who was my baby doctor and sometimes he took me fishing. Leo gave me bloody hell being a crybaby. Much later, he gave me bloody hell for bursting into tears when Cha came to me at my son's funeral.
MacPolecat was a great hunter. Mockingbirds loved to torment him by dive-bombing him. One day, I watched him lie on his back in our backyard. Legs and paws cocked up, eyes closed. A mockingbird started swooping in, over and over, getting closer and closer. Then, suddenly, a little too close- four paws and claws and a mouth full of teeth had a mockingbird sandwich.
We had two more cats, the female was Sadie. MacPollock liked eating their cat n food, and they didn't like MacPollock eating their cat food. My wife or I rescueed MacPollock several times from Sadie and MacPolecat.
One night, we hear a great ruckus in the kitchen, and out of it races MacPollock, squealing, with Sadie and MacPolecat prancing on their hind legs on both sides of him, repeatedly raking him with their front paws and claws. MacPollock reaches the living room and crawls under a footstool I had inherited from my father's father. MacPollock's nose sticks out one end, his tail sticks out the other end. He puts his front paws over his nose and snout, as Sadie keeps round-housing his nose and snout, while Mac Polecat is rearranging his tail, as he keeps squealing. I let that go on a while, then I call him a dumb shit, and stop it.
I was in my home office one day, and out the window I saw MacPolecat playing catch and release with a chipmunk he had caught. He got outside the yard and fence with the chipmunk, and had it under our car. He let the chipmunk escape again, into the street. He went after it, and a passing car ran over his head and no more MacPolecat. I asked my wife to get some frozen fish I had caught out of the freezer, and I took it and what was left of MacPolecat to my vegetable garden and took a shovel and dug a deep hole and put him in it with the fish, and I covered the hold and dropped to my knees and wept like a baby.
Jake Carruthers was my pen name for my first novel, Kundalina, Alabama, a seriously wild and crazy redneck Buddhist Pleiadean colony, anti-lawyer hero, definitely white witch heroine veterinarian, anti-religion romp and love story, somewhat inspired by Tom Robbins, now a free read at archive.org.
SanchoWhy go for a work-out, that's not fun? See If you could get a friend to go for a little walk-n-chat, early in the morning, every morning... if I lived near you, I would enjoy that... you would probably do most of the talking and who knows, maybe ET's would beam us up to examine what kind of rare talking birds these two old parrots were!😀MeThat would be lovely. Alas, I don't know anyone in Birmingham with whom I could have such walks and talks. Wherever I live, I feel like I'm from another planet. I have one friend in another state, who is beleaguered by angels and we have lots of talks. You are not afflicted in that way, but the future is unknown😀.What inclined me to try working out again was an article I read online last night about about mice studies that suggest resistance training, such as weights, machines, which builds muscles, delays memory loss and cognitive degradation. For that, I'm taking a prescription, Menantine Hydrochloride, which is the only prescription I take. I also eat dried jellyfish brains (Prevagen), which is over the counter at CVS and costs a great deal more than Menantine, so perhaps that means it works? A lady friend in Birmingham told me Prevagen helped her memory. I also take Pure Neuro, which I learned about and acquired online.I'm pretty sure the ETs have observed us for about as long as we have known each other. Maybe they will beam up Elon Musk, Donald Trump, Joe Biden, Vladimir Putin and other notables? My dreams last night seem to suggest I run for president. I recall promoting you and I do that, and we flip a coin to see who ran for president and vice president. I can see doing a podcast about me running for president on The Redneck Mystic Lawyer ticket. A total prank, but who knows? Perhaps some people would write my name on their ballot just to be contrary. Perhaps I get under enough people's skin that someone does for me what I have not been able to get a veterinarian to agree to do😀.
sloanbashinsky@yahoo.com
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