Year End Ramblings

In this 11th hour of the year the night is gently pressing on ushering out another year. What am I to do? I think this is over and over until my stomach presses on me in hunger. It may seem small but the thoughts that lead from one corner to the next are in the driver seat.

Computer programming. I'm still in love with computer programming. I find myself programming everyday on various projects. It is too much fun. If you haven't learned a program -- I recommend squeak -- an open source smalltalk and all you need is a computer. There are hundreds of tutorials. Now I use C++, Perl, Java, and smalltalk. All of them are great languages to learn and one can even find a job using anyone of them. What I love about computer languages is that they are complex enough to challenge even the most dedicated foreigner who wants to be paid while being overseas. It leaves enough room for the rest of us to make a living as well.

Songwriting. It is a love affair I've had with guitar, piano, base, drums, and singing my whole life. I can't get enough of it. I have finally organized my next 6 albums -- none of which are recorded exactly like I want them, yet. But the continuing saga in my life to produce, perform, and publish music is growing hotter. Most of all -- I enjoy every moment of it.

Holistic Practice. The idea of threads of income while learning new skills took off some years ago as I finished acupuncture school and melded the skills of bone setting tui na with the new found skills of Traditional Chinese Medicine. I've had so much fun cupping, needling, using moxa, using herbs, and changing lives. I've held onto many of the principles I learned while studying in bio technology companies and kept building on the theme of looking for underlying causes. Today I am balancing the posture, the energy rivers of the body (meridians), and the body's neuro-transmitters. I feel like I have the x, y, z planes of some newtonian geometry which allows for the melding of three worlds which come together between body alignment, energy meridians, and the body's communication system. I love this stuff and especially have a tremendous awe for what this medicine does for my patients -- and for me.

Warrior. Here I am still doing kung fu. It is the awareness, the knowing without knowing, the simplicity, the letting go of the known to accomplish the unknown, the renewal within expressing its outward manifestation of inner peace, and moving away from the formative nature of endless forms -- formless reality driven from the body finally understanding. I haven't taught it hardly at all. My journey is still quite driven within. I hope some day to share it with more than a patient or two here or there.

Any writer knows the nature of creativity is not something that falls around like rain. Yet it comes and goes like anything in nature can but it sings, it rings, and plays like Peter Pan. I'm not sure if I can be any clearer than that ... that all my life has come to this. It doesn't matter if I sing, if I write, or if I play -- life is living what I most love living every day and in every way it is.

May 2011 be coming more and more becoming.

The Pearl of China

Reading this book by Anchee Min gave me the chills as I thought about years ago reading The Good Earth by Pearl Buck and being absorbed. The Pearl of China is a fictional story based on facts of Pearl's life in China. The names are changed to protect the people in her life. Even after reading The Soul of China I didn't feel the soul of China like The Good Earth. Here are some Pearls of wisdom that came from the life of this wonderful author.

It captures the propaganda war as the communists came to power.

"Your father must learn that we Communists are fighting for a real cause. China will one day be free of politics and religion. People will be their own gods."

Pearl responded that [my Father]

"is God's fighting angel. I don't understand him, but I love him." The quick response was "I could not love my father if he were my political enemy."

And Pearl smiled,

"There is no enemy for me."

Here I find the letting go and going with the flow.

It talked about Pearl's writing methods. Her trick was to think like a Chinese farmer.

"Before planting, the farmer already knew what, where, and how much to grow, the budget for seeds, fertilizer, animals, and field hands. In other words, I try to make the best use of my material."

Harmony with the land and the people blended in ancient China.

A classic line in the struggle for justice in communism,

"Mao doesn't own the party. Communism is about justice and democracy."

This topic is explored in detail as many fell into prison or were shot over differences in belief in the name of communism. The character would say later,

"I am riding the back of a tiger. I will die if I try to get off."

Many have died as The Peoples Republic has taken the lives of more than any other dictatorial regime in history.

Confucius said,

"thirty years in the river east, and then the next thirty years in the river west."

What does it mean?

"In the concept of feng shui, it means that there are equal opportunities in the circle of life."

Hope, in the end this book ends with hope. In a rough series of events this book needs hope at the end for China to survive into the next century.

Finally,

"... to be Chinese means one lives to eat ..."

represents many thoughts throughout this book which explore the Chinese way of life and how it come through a cultural revolution and began to sprout again the essence of Chinese life. If you haven't done it, visit any asian grocery store and get a sense of this bubbling well of life around food. Explore the purple potatoes and black chickens. Ask what is this? over and over until you feel the sense of exploratory hammock that surrounds food in the orient. It gently rocks and is quite amazing.

I am reminded that I spent 19 years of my life studying classic Chinese Arts and practicing Chinese Medicine on my friends with Qi Qong and passive bone manipulation (tui na) before I ever went to acupuncture school. It was a way of life that the masters explored which gave new perspective to healing. My children gained insight into a Chinese world they or I have never seen or explored. It often saved their lives and propelled them to greater heights.

Things are not as they seem

How I love that poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow -- "A Psalm of Life". The grave is not our goal and our souls do live on. It is not the end to have enjoyment or sorrow -- he calls upon us to act and leave our footprints in the sand. Let us be up and doing says he -- the lives of all great men remind us.

It is our choice to be happy or sad. It is our choice to remain where we are or move on. It is our choice to be a victim of circumstances or be in the hum of life doing and becoming. It is our choice to have a relationship or to let it go. And those choices, however hard are freeing to our soul for we are placed here for such choice. I rejoice in the choices we have before us.

Right or wrong choices bring us experience and are for our good. I rejoice on both sides of the coin. It is our time to be alive.

There is so much silence in my journal over February, March, April, and now May. Yet I feel so much movement afoot in my life. It feels so good to work so hard. Many of my patients have gotten better. I've continued to write songs, programs, and poems. I've so enjoyed the life of recording weekly as I work on albums on some of the best instruments in our town. I finally got a set of drums up today next to a great piano that I'm doing the recording on. It gives me a chance to work out percussion, bass, and other ancillary parts.

I've read more than the last 2 years combined. It is so fun reading a book for fun. It is so fun reading books by topic and summarizing them for patients. It is quite a kick to read a book and attempt to glean what I need from it for my life, right now, right here. I've loved trying out grand pianos in various locations. I've played them until I'm exhausted. I've played guitar until I have blisters on my fingers. I feel an urgency to life and it makes life easier for me.

Oriental medicine has become like poetry in motion to me. It is like a second wind of understanding. I'm sure it will continue to grow and blossom in a world that so desperately needs choices in healing. Reality to some people is nonsense to others. Everything is as it should be -- how boring life would be if we all felt the same, talked the same, and agreed on everything.

Falling Off the Bus on a Chilean Mission

It was late in the evening and we had returned from a missionary meeting in Santiago. For some reason the last bus out to Mellipilla was packed. I remember letting everyone go ahead of me -- including my companion. When it came to time to grab the bus

I had only one hand on a bar and one foot on the platform.

The bus barreled down the road happily on its way and I found myself facing the back of the bus. After a time my hand and foot went numb and I was unsure if I could make it. By that time we were out into the country with no houses around us and I didn't seem to be able to think clearly anymore.

I remember saying a prayer and asking my Heavenly Father to help me

but my strength did not increase.

I finally said a final prayer and left my fate into His hands and let go. As I did I became aware of this whistle sound. A policemen appeared in the middle of nowhere and had blown a whistle to stop the bus. At the time I let go, the bus was slowing down to stop and I wasn't even hurt. He made everyone pack on the bus tighter and I then had both hands and both feet secure.

I'm sure this story is not unique to my mission and that every missionary has a point in their mission where they had to

let go and trust the Lord.

I think life is that way. Letting go often opens the doors we need to go forward. I wonder to this day how that policeman appeared in the middle of a country road with no buildings in sight. I am grateful to a true and living God who hears and answers our prayers.

Remembering Who We are on a Chilean Mission

I had come home after a long day of missionary work. We seemed to have a rhythm of work and people to see. We had made it back a bit later than usual in Puente Alto. As my companion went into the room ahead of me, I had barely made it into the door when I heard someone running behind me. So I pulled back out of the door and heard someone slip. The son of the family we lived with had slipped on the rug and came down hard on the door. I caught my head between the door jam and the door. Pulling out I reached up and pulled my hand over my head and come down with blood. I passed out.

The next day I remember waking to a little girl pressing a small cotton ball on my upper lip and smiling.

I couldn't remember who I was or who she was.

It took me a month to remember again who I was. I forgot all the discussions. I got up slowly, groggy and read the journal that I had worked on early in my mission. It was an abbreviated story of my life from when I was about 5 to the present. Hmm, I was a missionary.

Sometimes

it is not easy to remember who we are even when we know who we are.

I did re-memorize the discussions. Eventually, I remembered I was the senior companion and turned in a report on the incident. My Mother told me this Christmas of 2006 that the President of the mission called her saying I would probably be sent home. Hmm, I think my slow recovery and slowness to action but still my slow stick-to-it-ness kept me on the mission. I don't think I ever saw so many people join the church. I think when they saw my pain and struggle that they took the time to find the truth -- what, after all motivated me to keep waking up like a dead man white as a sheet and face each day preaching the gospel?

I saw many missionaries face illnesses, deaths of those around them, set backs, and failures; and

each time they overcame them they were stronger.

I didn't realize it at the time. I think if we all wrote these faith promoting stories down they would fill volumes.

A Smokey City on a Chilean Mission

I was in Mellipilla as the second city on my mission probably in early 1973. I remember arriving in Mellipilla in the only taxi that would take me because of the smoke, nails on the road, and general chaos. Tires were burning on many corners of the local streets and this

black soot was thick in the air.

Many cars were off the road because people were bending nails and placing them on the roads so that cars would get flats. Somehow we made it fine that night.

My new companion told me that I was the counselor in the branch. I had the assignment to teach priesthood meeting but not to worry about it because

no one ever came to priesthood meeting.

He was right. No one arrived for priesthood meeting and there was a big hole in the church wall. Only one family arrived for sacrament meeting. The branch president without his family.

So I remember thinking that I had the lesson so I would at least teach someone. I took the rolls of the church and visited all the boys that were priesthood age. I asked everyone to be ready next Sunday as we would be by to bring them to church. Now that seemed funny because we walked everywhere! So

we formed this line of boys early in the morning

and one by one had them all at the church.

I remember the branch president arriving that morning and asking me as he came into the room, what are you doing? I replied, "I'm teaching the priesthood lesson." He sat down and said to me that

he would never be late to priesthood again.

And he was never late again. Other missionaries would call me as each of the boys that came to that class went on missions. And the craziest thing happened. When the boys came to church, suddenly

as if by magic all the girls came too.

It was fun seeing the church too full to handle all the members in the sacrament hall.

And we mixed mud and straw and patched that church wall ourselves. The members helped us wax the floors, white wash the newly repaired wall, and re-commit to a wonderful branch of Mellipilla. Some of my best memories are back there still, my heart is still with them.

Gems of Royden Glade from Chilean Mission

1972. It was a cold, rainy night when I took the bus down to Los Angeles, Chile. For a summer in Chile was equal to the winter in the United States. By the time I arrived I was chilled to the bone. After two weeks of solid rain the sun let up and I discovered a volcano right out our window. It would be another two weeks before we would see the sun again. Rain came down in this 45 degree angle. We tracted every day and came back at noon to change clothes. Fungus infected our shoes. At times people would let us in, because of the rain they felt sorry for us. As soon as we would tell our story we were escorted right back to the rain. By the end of the summer I contracted a bronchial disorder and was down for about two months.

President Royden Glade made a surprise visit nearly at the end of my illness. What a big guy -- tall, strong, and quite caring. He sent me to warmer climates when he heard about my history of bronchitis as a child. He later told me he played basketball on his mission.

He encouraged me to make my mission "my mission."

He said it might not be the way he would serve a mission.

It would be a few years after my mission before I began reading management books on empowerment. It required giving back the freedom to the workers to take on the responsibility of the tasks at hand.

In Melipilla I had organized a team of youth from our local branch to compete with the Catholic basketball teams. We had played a few times on their courts and they invited us to play as a team. The priests asked us to see if we could get other missionaries to come play their best team in the tournament. President Royden Glade let me get some of our better missionary players. I think it was a great opportunity to see if we would have good sports on both sides. Everyone seemed to love it.

I remember President Royden Glade teaching that

we should never talk against someone's faith

because we might be successful and there might not be something to replace it. Simply declare the gospel to them and let them embrace it.

In Melipilla after a day of tracting in one of the central park areas, a member of the church sat down beside us on a park bench. She said she was struggling with joining our church so she went to her Catholic priest. He turned to her and said he knew our church was the true church of Jesus Christ because he had read The Book of Mormon. Only he couldn't join because the Catholic church was his livelihood and his only source of income. I wonder if that was one of the priests who invited us to have the missionaries come and play basketball.

John 10:4 "And when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him: for they know his voice."

Musical Preparation Day on a Chilean Mission

Preparation day to me was

the freedom to write.

I often wrote a song either on piano or guitar -- sometimes in Spanish. I loved to send the poems home to friends with all kinds of reactions. It kept my sanity knowing that the creative spirit within me had a voice despite my serving the Lord on a mission.

One time a girl friend wrote me a letter asking if I received her letter. I wrote her back saying I didn't receive it. She told me then it didn't matter. So after my mission I had to ask her -- what was that all about? She told me she felt the poems were not about missionary work and that bothered her -- she wondered about my seriousness as a missionary. She figured if it didn't arrive then it was meant to be lost. We continued to be the best of friends.

I always found it so relaxing to find the end of the week and a bit of time to dream. Nearly 50 percent of all letters and mail did not arrive in either direction. Some of it was censored with black lines crossing out what the censor felt was inappropriate. In made me appreciate the freedom of sending mail unopened.

Freedom, I wrote, is more than the words that you give.

At the end of a tape of songs, I would send it all to another girl friend who was a fan of my songs. She saved them for me upon my return. All of them made it safely there. How amazing that in the midst of all that lost mail -- those songs survived the passage one hundred percent. And our friendship remains precious to this day. "I am just 21, feel like I've just been born. Can't say I'm 6 foot four, I'm not six foot four of anything ... I'm not six foot four of anything."

Life picked up and went on but

the impact of those dreams still inspires me today.

As the scriptures say that a small helm in a ship has a big effect -- sometimes those small but steady things we do carry on and on. My whole life has been blessed with songs I wrote reflecting the emotions of the moment.

I left my mission and began studying piano under a PhD and spent hours playing piano scales and practicing everyday. It seemed the harder I tried to play what was written, the worse I got at it. He finally told me to stop. He asked me why I would ever want to play the piano. I told him I was a songwriter and wanted to enjoy the world of music. He laughed. Let me hear one of these songs he said. So I did. Then he said, stop trying to learn music -- you already play and could play most anything by rote already.

So in 2008, a High Priest Quorum leader asked me to play the hymns in priesthood meeting. He quietly said, choose any hymn and that will be fine for us. So I did.

Every week I had something prepared.

And every chance I got I was on the piano playing through the hymn book. Suddenly I could read music. And because I can write, I can arrange it as well. Go figure!

I asked my friend Amy who plays an incredible piano what she did to play by sight so well and how long had she done it. She said, "I started when I was eight." She practiced like 30 minutes to an hour everyday and by college she had the reading part down. And she said that to learn how to read you should pick things you can read and slowly read it so that you read every note. If you choose too difficult of music, you will not be able to progress. I began to see that I was trying too hard, too quickly.

Some of those simple songs come back to over and over from my mission. "Do what the Lord tells you to do, let not the world lead you astray, open your ears -- hear out the King, open your hearts -- with happiness sing" ... in Chinese medicine it is the joy that opens the heart.

Expressions of joy surround our service to the Lord and others. "as my prayers lay me down to sleep, and I am taken to another world but I love you." Maybe this story is more of a reflection. Most of my stories have truly been reflections looking back -- and I hope that we all take a few moments and share the wealth within us for having taking a step down that road as a human being, and a step down that road in life. As a wonderful friend and fellow musician once wrote,

"life like the day is one the run."

(Thank you Skip Andrews)

Quaking a Bit on a Chilean Mission

Boy, do I remember earthquakes in Chile. One day we had finished our prayers and were getting ready for the day. I had finished getting ready and sat down on the bed. Boom, the bed started shaking so violently that it was hitting the back of my calves. The rest of the family in the house went nuts and were yelling at us from the inner courtyard. We both didn't know how to react. I think we were numb. I think fear is not the right word,

we had said our prayers and we were on a mission.

What better place to go through an earthquake?

Going out the courtyard we looked into the kitchen at the huge pot they used to cook up oysters. They hung it on a peg using one of the two handles. It was swinging in an arc fully 180 degrees from side to side. I admire that family so much because of their stability in trying times. The dad was an ex-mayor of the city. All of his land had been removed from him that he could not live on. He had five homes before and now he lived in his last remaining home. He took us out to the country to show us his holdings there. We looked all around as far as the eye could see on a hill -- it all had belonged to him. He gave it to various people who worked for him to prevent losing all of it.

He, his wife and his family were full of faith in liberty.

They lived a life exemplary of those founding fathers who formed our country. I admire his courage in the midst a real battle of territory and rights. In the midst of their own earthquake they displayed courage and fortitude. His children carried within them dignity and respect for human life and liberty. I think I carried back home with me a new found respect for those who gave us our liberty in the United States.

Red Badge of Courage

Jon Ryan had given me this book years ago and I lost it. To my defense it was a small book in a big library of school books. Still -- I felt compelled to read it. Something was there for me to read and understand. I feel that way with most books. And when your mind is turning around the events of your life it is a great time to reflect on the thoughts of others.

This book is the feelings of a youth as he faced war in all its brutal realities. His first battle was a noble fight which left them high on success. Then the enemy came to fight again and he turned tail and ran away. He found himself retreating with the wounded and came to grips with the questions,

"where yer hit?".

Isn't that human nature as we fight a trial in which we find ourselves in retreat? We slide back to a comfort zone but the demands of life around us that bring us here will continue to haunt and follow us. None of us escape the trial of our moments. But life goes on, battles go on, and even the end for some, I believe, is still another beginning.

This youth came to regard "the wounded soldiers in an envious way. He conceived persons with torn bodies to be peculiarly happy.

He wished that he, too, had a wound, a red badge of courage."

What is reality in war? What is reality in peace? My parents have often told me they want me to be happy. They come to my defense readily and often say it is for the best. I'm often uncertain what to say -- I almost want to cry. The truth is we each carry our own truth and justify our actions in our own way.

When things fall apart in my life I have always returned to the one standard that holds up in war or peace -- Proverbs 3:5-6 -- simple trust. It seems so obvious to me that lack of trust in another person is like a canker sore that eats through the skin and infects the body. So I trust the one person I know can fill me with light and even burn every fiber of my being with fire. I trust the Lord with all of my heart for my heart is broken. And throw away my meager understanding for truly I do not understand or see the way in or out. And I acknowledge God in all I do so that He can direct my paths.

"Yeh might have some queer kind 'a hurt yerself. Yeh can't never tell.

Where is your'n located?"

I'm not sure where it is located. I'm grateful to be alive. I'm grateful to be feeling what I am feeling. I'm grateful to be moving ahead in my life. I'm grateful to be surrounded by good friends.

I can look inward and find weaknesses but I realize we all can -- in any trial or tribulation. Even my Dad who struggles with memory and sometimes babbling not knowing what he is saying is left to wonder at life's cruel turns. He simply gives it up to God -- he lets God take care of what he can not do for himself. My Dad who eats a small portion (for he can not longer eat a whole meal) and wonders if he won't be vomiting it up again -- is left to wonder why me? But he goes out and cares for the shut ins with a smile on his face. He goes and plays gospel music for those in a nursing home. His pain registers with every step in his face from the ends of nerves frayed like loose wires. I think I'm beginning to see a red badge of courage.

"Oh, don't bother me!"

Such an attitude pervades our society. Risk is actually the healthy way of dealing with life. Love, I have discovered, is a principle of power actuated by our willingness to touch another life in an honest confrontation which leads to greater love. Love begets love. "You may puzzle at me when I tell you your not loving me is the most love I've ever had ... but anyone who has given into loving will know and understand." I remember putting those words to Rod McKuen to music and it was spell binding.

"His companions seemed ever to play intolerable parts. They were ever upraising the ghost of shame on the stick of their curiosity." So the youth felt tortured by his own inadequacy, a figment of his own imagination, and he became his own worse enemy. He slid further and further away from the battle and began to retreat even from the wounded.

"Now, don't bother me ..." the youthful plea stung those about him who had no idea of the harm their words had risen within his heart.

"Well, Lord knows, I don't wanta bother anybody."

This was the response from his wounded soldier trying to make it back from the battlefield with battle scars. An honorable man trying to stay alive with mortal wounds. Eventually this youth turned back to the battle. And with new lessons imprinted on his brain fought boldly in the face of overwhelming odds -- only he did not back down and inspired others to fight on where there wasn't a chance.

And

"who was that lad who carried th' flag?"

There is a bit of us in this lad who carried the flag. There are moments we all carry the flag forward. Despite our weaknesses, our failings, our times of being down -- there is a time we carry the flag forward and over come the declining nature of life around us and life within us.

Others looked at the youth as

"a very good man t' have"

and admired his courage to be in the heat of battle. I think I see the good in all of us -- it a choice we make to do and be good. It isn't always an easy choice. It isn't always the choice we make the first time. I think I see in ordinary life the red badge of courage.

"He kep' th' flag 'way t' th' front" in the thick of the battle. We are all placed there eventually. We feel these losses and the gains. We feel the successes and the failures. In fact, I think I see the battle ground all around me with voices on both sides trying to coach us to their own side. It is a confusing battle array with many voices aimed at us. We may turn and run at times. We may rise to the front and pitch our causes with the best of them. Or we may be content to settle down and do what we need to do without committing to those around us. Or we may even run away from it all a bit.

"He's a good un"

because he was able to overcome and face the battle. He was able to lead a charge up the hill again. The past fell away like the sun or moon -- and life changed.

A red badge of courage was earned this day

on a battlefield.

A Spider Bite

It was the 19th of June and

I felt like a thorn was in my foot.

My brother had called me on the phone interrupting my four hour group study so that we could go to the Veterans Village of San Diego where I taught Tai Chi Chuan and worked in an acupuncture clinic on Fridays. I ignored the pain and went off to teach the class. Somewhere in the middle of the class I demonstrated the classic crane dip and on the left I felt tremendous pain as I moved with one leg to the ground. I felt my body weakening but dismissed it as something sharp in my foot.

As the evening grew on I began to feel shortness of breath and changed my shoes and socks. I noticed red puncture wounds on the bottom of the foot but

it didn't look that bad at the time.

The next day it hit me like a truck -- I could not walk the same way, I was unable to work out, and the nerves along the hip felt like they were exposed with sharp pain. My wife and my brother and his wife and I went out to dinner, shopped, and I tried to ignore it. It was several days later when someone where we lived pointed out the brown black widow spiders that lived underneath the chairs where we had our study group. I rushed home to look up the symptoms. I realized that I had been suffering all the same symptoms.

I called up the supervisor of the acupuncture clinic and he saw me immediately to lance it. By now you could see 7 separate suitcases of poison. It was still isolated to the bottom of the foot. With the first two lances it immediately closed up and filled in itself. He said that was typical of this type of poison. The third lance did it -- he sucked all the poison out and the wound was bound up to heal. Somehow the symptoms did not release and in about two weeks

secondary infections broke out

in my calf, ankles, and into the joints of my toes.

I added a few more doctors to the list of who I was seeing and they each added to the treatment for heart palpitations, shortness of breath, strong nerve pain, headaches, fatigue, lack of strength, and emotional strain. I felt put down as the infections spread and turned black in the center. I tried tea tree oil combinations that were known to be good for the skin, aloe vera, the triple anti-biotic formula that is popular on the market, a round of antibiotics, and various soaks in the bath. One medical doctor had me add cleaning the surface with iodine and the surgical cleaner that doctors use before surgery. Another doctor had me using stevia topically as well. I took all kinds of supplements to help my body deal with the invasion.

I was unable to study in between study groups for the California State Acupuncture Boards -- the intense burning pain got to me and I needed the group to be able to stay present. Even while in this intense state I took a mock board exam and passed it fairly high. They said I was in the safe zone and to not let up my study.

The fact is

I did not heal and continued to get worse.

The infections seemed to be raising higher and higher on my leg and got past the knee. I could barely keep up and was losing it. I went to the emergency room at UCSD Medical in Hillcrest. I did not have insurance. They said that my treatment was too aggressive and put me on another round of antibiotics. They did not exactly know about the alternative approaches so they stopped them completely. They put me on aloe vera with vitamin E, a cream, and said what was going up my leg now was not the infection but something called contact dermatitis. They felt the infection was slowly healing. They said that definately the iodine and the surgical scrub killed the skin daily and made the healing worse. They said I had an allergic response to the triple antibiotic which caused the contact dermatitis and had me switch to bacitracin. They said they had a rash of such allergic reactions in this area.

The contact dermatitis cleared up slowly by the California State Acupuncture Boards and the intense infection was slowly healing about like it was before ... I slowly introduced the alternative lotions till I figured out which ones were healing it. The baking soda, salt, and apple cider vinegar baths really helped and so did a number of lotions. I still could not work out, felt this nervy pain, and

a deep fatigue was always there.

Despite feeling like the boards were too much, like the day I went out with my wife and family -- I toughed it out. I did not realize at the time that the memory loss was slowly taking away my own recollection of who I was and what I had done in the past few years. It was all I could do to keep up with my patients -- many of which depended on me for chronic conditions like Lupus, Multiple Sclerosis, and various long term orthopedic recovery scenarios.

The day of the boards came and I did my best again. I came close to passing for the third time. It dealt a crushing blow to me but I didn't find out until weeks later. My wife and I had gone to Oregon and enjoyed so much our family. I was pushing every day to even walk or be there. Emotionally

I felt myself losing control

with a baser reaction to everything thrown my way. I could feel myself fighting it day by day.

On a trip to Las Vegas to visit some of my wife's family I had a breakdown. I emotionally could not handle my wife's jealous accusations about a female patient. I had a cussing reaction like the ones I had witnessed as a child in my home where there was jealousy between my Mother and step Father. I gave her my keys and left the car and told her I'd find the motel on my own. I left to cool down because I did not want to escalate to anything worse than it was -- I literally could not hear her.

I didn't even know exactly where I was at the time. I found myself wandering the streets alone for hours and crying. I felt I wanted to commit suicide. As I came out of it I remembered one of my ex-wives calling me that day for me to return a banjo. I called them to see if I could help them remember that I was not the "David" they thought I was. And I headed home by following the strip in Las Vegas. I remember the way since we always went to the strip from the motel.

I came home to the hotel in the middle of the night

dazed and embarrassed

and unable to talk about it. That was my typical reaction in this whole scenario -- I could not even process the whole of what was going on. It would not be till much later that I would realize that I didn't even remember the underlying issues.

My wife needed more room to organize and suggested we move to University City where I had great friends and support all around me. So despite all else going on -- I moved us day by day, and box by box. I cleared out our storage and compressed it into a newer apartment. We both had the expectation of a new cocoon -- a place where we could recover or so I thought. I worked hard to make this new place a heaven on earth for us.

I kept seeing doctors and adjusting my treatment plans. I kept up with my practice but it was all I could give to keep up with patients. I had nothing left. My cussing and leaving on emotional challenges continued. It was about the middle of October when I finally was able to work out again. Every morning I did a bit more until the exercises all returned to my memory. I felt it was strange that after 17 years of doing these Kung Fu work outs that it took so long to remember them. Every day another small piece fit back in. I found the same problem on the piano. I had created 9 10 minute segments of music and had

a hard time remembering

them. I worked everyday until I could play them through.

By now the actual spider bite on the bottom of the foot was healed completely without a scar. The secondary infections were about a 100 strong with a dead looking brown spot in the center of each one that had this intense burning that would drill through my skin and into the underlying structure underneath. I could see some of them healing and the overall size was gradually getting less.

I gathered the love letters of my wife and put them at the head of my bed. I read them nightly and thought about the wonderful love that we shared in this marriage. Somehow that thread carried me through each day. Her commitment to me was a forever commitment and I returned to that commitment in my heart day by day.

My emotions let up at some point and I actually felt jovial. I remember being friendly again and having strength. My wife thought I was being friendly to her for ulterior purposes. I can understand why because it had been a fight of life and death for so long. Everyone who looked at the scars (or even looks at it today) has the look on their face like

"what happened to you."

I counted 23 remaining infections on the calf of my leg this last week. All other infections are clear or with a slight red color a the surface of the skin where they had left their mark.

I was numb when my wife seemed to retreat and disappear in her own life. I asked her what she was doing and she was preparing for a divorce. I realized that I had blown it completely but wanted to know why. She did tell me some things over time and it made me realize

I could not remember the events.

I had to talk to family members and friends to piece it all together. She gave up on any chance of the marriage working so I was forced to move out of the apartment.

I could not see spending money on divorce lawyers so we filed jointly by both signing the document to the San Diego court. My wife filed the papers on the 13th of November. That means no lawyers earn money at our expense and we agree to all of what we need to do to resolve our own situation. At the time I could not even begin to fathom the issues. I began to pray about what I should do and where I should go.

My sister had died on the 19th of September in Wichita which left my parents without someone to help them. When I went back to the funeral I realized that they related strongly to me. They could not conceive of what they would do moving forward. My dad had lost some of his memory, was depending on lists, and was getting worse. My Mother was shaking all over and hesitant in many ways -- in a fragile space. With no family for me in San Diego I realized there was no family in Wichita to help them out. I realized I must go where I can be of help to my parents where my family truly needs me.

Knowing that was the right thing to do

I left on the 15th of November in a truck bound for Wichita with my brother helping drive straight through.

I have lost my memory before with a concussion. I know its effects and how hard it is to gain back the pieces. It doesn't matter who is right or wrong in this divorce. I know that we will recover over time. I know that we will seek to do the Lord's will in life. I wish my wife the best in all she does. I did not abandon her. I did not abuse her in the traditional sense but the reality is that our marriage was full of similar trials. It is a wonder that our marriage survived this long under such pressures. So I understand.

I think of this spider bite now every day of my life. I think of the circumstances that often lead us to

a new place in life.

Things shift and move underneath and two things have become clearer to my mind. First of all, we are all broken. We all suffer from emotional traumas in life and need forgiveness in our life to move forward. Second of all, who is the gardener here?

Today I honor the memory of my wife in all I do -- I taught our entire family west coast swing and we all had a blast. My parents may have many more years of life because someone is there for them. And I have fresh goals and am striving every day to listen to the gardener -- the creator who gave us this great world with all of our trials and tribulations.

The spider bite continues on with a life of its own. It is healing. And amazingly enough my practice continues to grow as healing is something I understand more each day. As I think about it, it is the healing of my own problems that gave me great clues as to the healing of others.

Emotional Freedom

Marriages end at an alarming rate. In the past year over 30, 000, 000 people have been prescribed Prozac in the United States. Domestic violence, that we know about, hits one in every 6th household. Half of our marriages end in divorce. Magazines, radio, television, and even people promote this new found freedom of finding love immediately without regard to people they have left behind. It is easy to love quickly and move on. It is hard to stay the course and find emotional freedom within the relationship. Something must be done to stem this tide.

"Liberate yourself from negative emotions and transform you life"

is a bold statement by Dr. Judith Orloff in her new book "Emotional Freedom". She says that

"emotional freedom means increasing your ability to love by cultivating positive emotions and being able to compassionately witness and transform negative ones."

As she would say,

"we desperately need to know how to handle negative emotions."

We all have and deal with negative emotions both within ourselves and in others. Her work on the "emotional vampire" first caught my attention some years back as she identified warning signs in emotional chaos. From there, she taught a healthy release for us all. She has found a guiding path for anyone to climb out of their emotional quandaries.

Check out her four emotional types and see if you can relate to one or more of them. I know I do and it helps me get perspective with myself and others. Check out her short video on emotional freedom -- you may even end up reading the book. Lastly, remember that we all need perspective for we are here with our own set of weaknesses. My sister would say,

"we do not see things as they are, we see them as who we are."

Check out some of her quizzes ... or articles. Her variance on emotional vampires showed me how the negative side can spill over and unbalance the partner of a relationship. It is good to be aware of the various vampires that we or our spouse can foist on each other. We can all be free of this emotional tyranny by facing up to the challenge of being emotionally free together.

Are you emotional free?

"Life is brimming with opportunities to learn about emotional freedom. Every success. Every heartbreak. Every loss. Every gain. How you transport yourself through these portals determines how free you can be. Begin to see each event in your life, uplifting or hurtful, as a chance to grow smarter, stronger, more light-bearing. More than ever, the time for miracles is now."

More than ever, adding to Dr. Judith Orloff's thoughts, it is time to emotionally release and begin healing with each other. In spanish there were two words for freedom. Freedom with responsibility and freedom from responsibility. It is time to stem the tide and love more deeply with responsibility ... especially in the sacred bond of marriage.