I am sitting at my computer screen going over news topics and reading many different sources. It is a reasonably quick enjoyment I get when I partake in this particular learning session. I notice that Madonna is 55, same as me. I see that Julie Harris has died. I understand that Florida is running out of beach sand. All of these are cool, but, since going to this once a week full blog post (the other 3 are writing prompts), I want something a bit fuller.
Now, my eyes see it: an article about a man whose heart stops, they take him to the hospital, his son speaks to him, and (45 minutes) later, his heart begins beating again. Doctors can’t explain it. The family is just happy Dad is back.
I have respect for most doctors. There was the one who gave me depression meds for quite awhile when I went to the stress center. He was later indited for Medicare Fraud. There are other doctors who do not sit well with my mind. The biggest was the neurologist who came out when I was in the ER with my stroke and told my mother “Better get a casket ready. He’s dead.” To him, I say, “F*****g A**h*l*. My sister put him in his place and I dropped his services after the first visit post hospital. In my mind he is a waste of a doctor.
The biggest thing was that he didn’t understand “why” I was still alive and there is a small part of me that truly believes he is upset that I dared to make his opinion wrong in the matter. He doesn’t understand. I am learning that he, probably, can’t understand.
There has been a split between God and medicine for a long time. Doctors are famously atheistic or, at least, lean more toward pragmatism in all things spiritual. Not all, of course, but most. Enough that they have gotten this rap. What I see is that they are not alone.
I have friends, close friends, who do not view life at all as I do – heck, I have family that way.
I have my dreams of the future. The difference now is that I carry those dreams with the knowledge that God is right there in my corner telling me to swing for the fences. (Wow! two separate sports analogies in the same sentence! – Take that Mark Twain!)
Those who know me well know that I love God and I believe that life with Him (knowingly) can and is a beautiful thing. He is my friend. He is someone who always listens and has the best advice. He has given me (along with everyone else) these wonderful abilities to create our lives the way we choose. I believe in that. I truly do.
My life has come alive since my stroke when I figured out that God wanted me not to be the perfect human and not to be miserable living a religion I don’t truly believe in. He wanted (wants) me to live a full life with the things that truly make me happy and alive.
My job then is to figure out what those things are and to go after them. I get some funny looks when I tell people I have strong intentions. I get even funnier looks when I say that I fully intend to be very wealthy and healthy by end of summer 2014. The funny looks make me laugh, but they are also sad because it tells me that people are just not where I am in my relationship with God. It doesn’t make me any better, just happier. The church would have you believe in giving all things up and suffering on Earth for later glory in Heaven. I think that God wants us to enjoy life here on Earth, too. So, I am.
My biggest proof: life itself. Since I fully adopted this lifestyle of enjoying, praying with intention, and not worrying because all things work out in the end, my life has been wonderful. Problems? – heck yes, but I know they are temporary and that I am and will continue to be happy and blessed.
For those of you who need to follow a reading path, try this –
1) Conversations with God – Book 1 by Neale Donald Walsh
2) The Magic of Believing by Claude Bristol (the title may be a bit different)
3) E-Squared by Pam Grotto
Read them in that order, try hard to keep an open mind. I have spent decades getting to where I am now in my beliefs.
If you have problems or questions – bookman23@comcast.net
Don’t troll on me – I don’t have time for it.
Love you all.
Namaste,
Scott