YES on 37!!

Hello everyone,

A few people I know who are really into organic and healthy eating have told me they're confused about prop 37 because of the confusing anti-37 propaganda.

Right now there is NOTHING, no requirements, no labeling requirements, no requirement to let consumers know when they're buying and eating genetically engineered foods. 

GE = Genetically Engineered

GMO = Genetically Modified Organisms

But if you think you have the right to know if your food have been genetically modified to explode in the digestive tract and reduce the ability to reproduce in the bug-pests, please vote yes on 37.

Did you know anyone with Crohn's disease or gluten intolerance 15 years ago? These things all seem to have increased as GE foods started. Other countries have done studies that link degenerative, gastro-intestinal and reproductive disorders to GE foods, but so far the United States has been big agro-businesses bitch for far too long and the public has remained large in the dark.

The amount of health issues that have increased corresponding with the introduction of GE foods cannot be ignored (please see the movie - free through this link: Genetic Roulette).

Also, agro-business and big corporations have spent 45 million on opposition ads for 37. But the ads say it's poorly written with arbitrary language, and that it might cost families $400 a year and put independent farmers out of business... Think about it - when has agro-business cared about saving families money or independent farmers? Aren't these the same companies that have put countless farmers out of business with bullshit lawsuits involving seed patenting? They're spending 45 million to keep profits up by frankensteining our food and adversely affecting our health. 

Do you think you have a right to know when foods have been genetically engineered?

I think you do.

Also, you don't have to take my word for it. See Genetic Roulette or look at the articles and links below.

Get out and vote. YES on 37!

http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/336242

Agribusiness, food corps. spend $45M in effort to defeat Prop 37

LIKE THIS ARTICLE6

Brett

By Brett Wilkins

Nov 5, 2012 - 11 hours ago in Food

1 comment

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Sacramento - As election days draws near, a collection of agribusiness and food corporations have spent more than $45 million in an effort to defeat a California ballot measure that would require the labeling of genetically modified (GM) foods.

Proposition 37, the 'California Right to Know Act,' would require labeling of many-- but not all-- foods containing genetically modified components and would prohibit marketing such foods as "natural."

Supporters of Prop 37 assert that Californians have a right to know what's in the food they eat, just like consumers in 61 countries already do. Organic farmers, environmentalist groups, health industry groups, labor unions and the state Democratic party are among those who back the initiative.

Opponents argue that Prop 37 is deceptive, deeply flawed, full of special interest exemptions and would cost farmers and consumers billions of additional dollars.

According to MapLight, a "non-partisan research organization that reveals money's influence on politics," the top 10 contributors to the 'No on Prop 37' campaign have given more than $29 million towards defeating the measure.

These are: Monsanto ($8.1 million), E.I. DuPont De Nemours & Co. ($5.4 million), Pepsico ($2.1 million), Grocery Manufacturers Association ($2.0 million), Syngenta ($2.0 million), Bayer Cropscience ($2.0 million), Dow Agrosciences ($2.0 million), BASF Plant Science ($2.0 million), Kraft Foods Global ($1.95 million) and Coca-Cola ($1.7 million).

Of the top 10 contributors to the 'Yes on Prop 37' campaign, only two-- Mercola.com Health Resources and seed-saving guru Kent Whealy-- have spent a million dollars or more.

The agribusiness and food companies opposed to the measure have outspent the 'Yes on 37' side by about 5-1.

"I think it's a David and Goliath story with the companies that manufacture or benefit from genetically modified food being Goliath," MapLight President David Newman told the Guardian.

"When you see this lopsided spending it indicates that the measure is popular with voters and opponents think they need to spend a lot to defeat it. There is a lot at stake here not just in California but how it will trend in the rest of the country," Newman added.

Indeed, an poll conducted by Zogby earlier this year found that 87 percent of Americans believe that GM foods should be labeled. A separate poll by San Francisco, California TV station KCBS found that 91 percent of Californians backed GM labeling, although recent polls showed greatly diminished supportfor the measure-- currently just below 50 percent. The constant bombardment of 'No on 37' ads, many of them containing deceptive or outright false statements, has helped to erode support for the initiative.

While agribusiness corporations and the US government claim that genetically modified foods are perfectly safe, there have been nearly no long-term scientific studies to determine whether or not they are indeed safe. One recently reported long-term study of rats fed a lifetime diet of Monsanto GM corn found that they suffered from much higher than normal rates of cancer and died significantly earlier than control rats.

There is also compelling evidence that GM foods may cause severe health and environmental problems, and the American Academy of Environmental Medicine has warned the public to avoid GM foods, claiming "there is more than a casual association between GM foods and adverse health effects, there is causation."

Around 90 percent of the corn and soybean crop grown in the United States is genetically modified.

Read more: http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/336242#ixzz2BQYcDVAu

http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2012/09/27/genetically-engineered-foods-labeling.aspx

Story at-a-glance

• The California ballot initiative – officially known as Proposition 37 – is coming up for vote on November 6. Proposition 37 will require labeling of genetically engineered foods, and end the routine industry practice of labeling and marketing such foods as "natural"
• Polls show Proposition 37 is overwhelmingly popular; about 65 percent for, compared to 20 percent against, with 15 percent still undecided. Nationally, over 90 percent of those polled say they want the FDA to require labeling of genetically engineered foods and ingredients
• Nearly 50 other nations around the world require labeling for genetically engineered foods, yet the US has persistently denied its citizens the right to know whether or not a food is genetically engineered. The industry, led by Monsanto, has even threatened states with costly lawsuits, should they decide to label GE foods
• Besides potential health effects courtesy of the genetic alterations to the crop itself, genetically engineered crops also use more agricultural chemicals, which in turn leads to increased resistance and rapid destruction of soil quality. In this way, GE crops spur the vicious cycle of resistance followed by increasing amounts of chemicals, as well as the use of increasingly toxic chemicals, such as 2,4-Dichlorophenoxyacetic acid – a main ingredient of Agent Orange
• (For full story, please go to: http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2012/09/27/genetically-engineered-foods-labeling.aspx)

http://www.democraticunderground.com/10402134

Big Break

Every time I read this I cry.


I realize that might sully my reputation as a bad-ass, tough-chic, but what the hell I got permission from my friend who wrote this to share it with you all, so here goes.


My friend in question is the ever talented, enigmatic, pop-rocker, and sick-&-twisted-sense-of-humor-having Augie Alexander. Somewhere between me asking him if I could touch his freshly shaven head - I really did that the first night we met at a San Diego music venue - and recording my first album together over 13 years ago, one or both of us knew this was not a temporary friendship. I plan to have him as my friend til my dying breath. That's how serious this shit is!


(Augie, if this is news to you, too bad. You're stuck with me!)



He gets moments of inspiration, as we all do, and one of the best perks of these moments is being able to share them with friends we trust. So he did. Thanks, Augie.


Here's the letter. He wrote and sent it to me a few years ago, but I revisit it from time to time when I need a reminder or just a little pick-me-up (they're happy tears, people). Would love to hear what you think. Comment below.


One last note before we get to it: If you like what you read, please support Augie by clicking on his name and linking to his website to check out his music and buy a CD.

I had an epiphany at some point in the last 6 months. Since my son was born and perhaps even sooner, I haven’t been playing much music nor have I been recording music. As arguing and tension persisted and seemed to continue to elevate I realized that Jenn and I were separated by overwhelming change. I felt like screaming and did so a few times. Finally one morning, I pulled out my guitar and played two old songs. My voice was out of shape, but I belted them out anyhow and an incredible amount of tension was lifted. At this point I realized. Fame and fortune is the American dream. But I started playing music about relationships and it helped me understand those relationships, heal from those relationships, and interpret my own feelings. I wanted hundreds of thousands of people to understand me. But instead I got a dozen or so people who understand me and one person who stepped forward and said I want to be with you and only you forever. I’m not saying that you should turn down fame and fortune if it comes your way. But I am saying that you touch people when they hear you. You touched me so much I wanted to record you and be your friend for life. Let’s not worry about the people we don’t touch. You have the power to sort out your feelings and thoughts thru music... And unlike many, it sounds good to others when you do. With the exception of RadioHead and a few others, the best music doesn’t appeal to the masses. You are far too deep and diverse for the simple minds of the masses to comprehend. Don’t worry about dumbing down for them. Keep doing what you are doing. We’re listening. You’ve already got your big break. You.

Love,

Augie Alexander

The Trouble With Testosterone

This is a little on the personal side, but I wouldn't be me, nor would I be doing a service to any of my readers out there, by not sharing some of my most personal thoughts and feelings on things. Hell, I shared my favorite sex position (link to blog: All Hail The Inverted Missionary) a while back, so if I can do that, I can do this...


Most of you know that Marcus is a health, nutrition and martial arts expert.

Most of you also know, based on how comfortable I usually am talking about sex, that I have a relatively healthy sexual attitude and sex-drive.

But what the majority of you do not know is that my cycles have been off. The reason I'm sharing this is because it's pertinent to what has transpired this past month and especially this past week.

In the last year or two, I've noticed my cycles being a little odd. Sometimes 28-29 days (which according to doctors is "normal" - matching the cycle of the moon), but often would be 22 or 24 days, and 31 days. It seemed to be every other month, which indicates I had a "lazy," aggressive (is that possible?) or otherwise misbehaving ovary.

This concerned me mainly for the following reasons:

a) I don't care to have my period more often, for how obviously inconvenient it is.
2) This is likely an indication that something is off with my hormones and/or ovaries.
c) This could mean, over time, a reduced time period for when I am able to have children, and I want to have that option for as long as possible. Women, unlike men who produce sperm their entire lives, have a finite amount of eggs, and I'm not really interested in running out of mine any sooner than necessary.

Noticing this inconsistency in my cycles, I tried a few different things, very casually, over the last year. A slight adjustment in my diet (which is already pretty organic and raw, and theoretically longevity- and fertility-encouraging). Acupuncture and supplements recommended by a holistic doctor I saw last year. Needless to say (or I wouldn't be writing this blog), nothing changed. Same odd cycle continued.

About a month ago, I asked Marcus, again, what he would recommend. Surprise, surprise, I didn't listen the first time.

He said, "You should clean up your diet."

I didn't like that idea the first time he said it to me 6 months ago, thinking I'd have to be more weird in my eating habits than I already am, and thinking I'd have to spend more money on raw dairy or raw whey protein or whatever specialty item or supplement he'd undoubtedly want me to ingest more of...

But I was (a little) smarter this time, and asked, "can you tell me, specifically, what you mean by that?"

He explained that if I really wanted to re-balance my hormone levels, giving up carbs was the best route. No bread, pasta, starches, sugar or even raw honey (which is my main sweet ingredient these days).

"Really?" I said.

Yes. Of course.

A month ago, I started eating less carbs, but honestly, I was still eating carbs daily, just way less. That helped my energy level a little.

About five days ago, I started this really seriously. I've dabbled with my diet a lot over the years, but have never really given up carbs for longer than a day or two tops. Even when I've done juice cleanses or fasting, there was still enough sugar in the juice or tea (sweetened with honey) to satisfy that...craving and whatever it was doing to my body.

Marcus has some biological explanation for anyone interested - my understanding and sum up of it is this:

All carbohydrates are converted into some sort of sugar, whether it's long or short chain carbs. It goes into your blood and your blood sugar goes up. In order for your cells to receive that energy (glucose), a body has to release insulin to allow the glucose to go into the cell. High insulin levels cause a host of other issues, including a bunch of metabolic/hormonal issues: More insulin means more fat, because your body converts calories to fat more efficiently when a person has more insulin in their blood. More fat means more estrogen, because fat is an estrogen producing cell. More estrogen means reduced testosterone.

The reason humans aren't operating at optimum efficiency eating a lot of refined or even whole wheat carbs and sugars is because we're feast or famine animals. Additionally, humans have not evolved (evolution takes a minimum of 50,000 years, more realistically 150,000+) to deal with processed food for fuel, specifically because they're so high in glucose. For beings who subsisted for thousands and thousands of years on nuts, berries (which were largely sour), fat, meats (mostly raw or sun-dried) and raw dairy (pasteurization is only about 150 years new); large quantities of breads, pastas, sweet corn, sweet fruits, sugars, and pasteurized cheese and milk are relatively new to the human body, and cause these huge insulin spikes, which cause the aforementioned metabolic issues and also, as you might've guessed, lead to obesity and diabetes.

While I am no where near obese or diabetic, I began noticing how eating even "healthy" complex carbs was affecting my hormones.

DISCLAIMER
Before I get into my personal experience with this, I need to give all of you a disclaimer. If you're tempted to try this for yourself, I highly recommend you do your research, as this diet is only healthy if you're eating ample amounts of non-denatured protein every 2-3 hours, large amounts of nutrient-rich vegetables, and raw, healthy saturated fat. If you need more guidance, please comment, or peruse my and Marcus's past blogs, as there's a bevy of nutritional information. Also, of course, check with your doctor or nutritionist.

Now for the lay-woman's anecdotal experience:
Here's what I've experienced. I feel happy. Or at least happier than my normal level of happy. I've felt more energetic. I also feel, to put it bluntly, like a dog in heat. It would seem that my testosterone levels are increasing (weren't they high enough for a chic to begin with?!?) just as Marcus predicted they would. Apparently this can only happen in a healthy way when we give up carbs AND eat plenty of non-denatured (which means raw and unprocessed) protein. Also, my scent is stronger than usual. I do not like this and do not even like admitting it, but it helps no one if I'm dishonest about this experience. According to Marcus, my scent is stronger than usual because I'm not eating glucose, my body finds glucose for fuel by burning the fat off of my hip. We store toxins in our fat, and that gets released as we burn fat and are in what is called ketosis. Ketosis, simply put, is when our bodies use fat for energy.

In the past, my body was using the carbs it was receiving for energy, and keeping fat stored. Currently, based on how I've been feeling, my body is using fat for energy.

The trouble with testosterone is, it's distracting! Sex is on my brain virtually all the time. Construction workers, handsome trees, beware! There's a general warmth and buzzing feeling in my nether-regions. I have more sex dreams than usual, and I seem to be flirting more. (Thank Goddess I'm with a man who doesn't care if I flirt with everyone and everything...there's a good-looking palm tree over there, just give me a minute...)

I don't know how guys do it. From what I understand, this starts in boys around the age of 13 and lasts until the mid to late twenties. How do you function in the world like that? No wonder guys in their teens and early twenties seem kind of stupid. I honestly feel like my I.Q. points have dropped due to this resurgence of testosterone.

Hopefully this is not true. Marcus assures me it is not (and my research says the same), but it can lead to more rash decisions and aggressive behavior. The best correlation is this: when a person is ravenously hungry, they'll do a lot more for food than if they just ate an hour ago.

Marcus assures me this will rebalance itself once my body re-regulates and isn't on heavy fat-burning duty. Once I shift over and my pancreas and liver are healthier, as well as my ovaries, please help me, my body will run more on the raw proteins I'll continue to eat, over the fat that has been stored in my body for at least a decade.

Mainly, I'm looking forward to the day when I can wake up and not feel pure heat from my undercarriage. But maybe this is going to be par for the course because of my age and already high testosterone levels. Only time will tell.

This must be as close as a woman can get to experiencing morning wood.

Poor Marcus. I look at him like a piece of meat now. Mind you, I don't even need my meat cooked to devour it. I just dive right in.

Good thing Marcus doesn't mind so much.

Boobs Trump I.Q.

Need I explain the title?

I guess the answer to that is probably "yes."

Let me disclaim first.

This does not mean that you can get away with being stupid if you have large breasts, though many women, I'm sure, have been excused their intellectual magnitude for a magnitude of bosom, but this type of boobage trumping I.Q. is not actually what this blog is about.

No, this blog is about the fact that very smart men, sometimes even bona fide geniuses can still have their I.Q. and intelligence fully trumped by partially or fully exposed breasts. Come to think of it, a tight sweater alone sometimes does it.

What I mean by fully trumped is, I've witnessed men completely and totally loose their train of thought just by flashing a boob or two.

Now this is not something I do in public, at least nothing I've done in public yet, but more based on my private observations with a few very intelligent men I've known biblically.

This happened recently and it made me laugh. Marcus was on some rant about quantum or particle physics and the fabric of the universe or something along those lines, while I was honestly ready to wind down and be done with his grandiose proclamations for the night. Anyway, not sure I did this intentionally, but I happened to be disrobing at this moment, and he immediately lost his train of thought and gently lunged toward my now exposed breasts muttering "booo-biees" to himself like Gollum mutters "my precioussss..." in Lord of the Rings.

Now the side note is: Marcus's I.Q. was tested at 175 when he was a child, and while he's undoubtedly lost a few if not many I.Q. points since he was tested, he still is probably higher than the average bear, average being 85-115.

But on the particular night in question, it really cracked me up and made me realize, yet again, that while both sexes are currently relevant and necessary for survival of the species, women are still kind of the stronger sex. Sure, we may be more prone to mood swings than men, though I've met some moody men, and we bleed out of a primary orifice on a monthly basis, and we might get irrationally pissed off when the garbage hasn't been taken out or the dishes haven't been done, but still, it seems we have more ability to compartmentalize and still carry on a conversation even when a penis is flashed.

The counter equivalent to men getting wholly distracted by the flash of breasts would be women getting completely distracted by the sight of a penis. I admit, it would surprise me a bit if I were giving a talk on filmmaking, music, hypnosis or even physics (one of my favorite subjects in school), but ultimately I could still carry on a conversation quite easily were a bare penis present during my physics talk. 

Some may argue it's because penises, as Seinfeld so aptly pointed out, belong to a male body which is largely a utilitarian sculpture. But when you think of it, breasts are utilitarian too - they are nature's perfect milk dispensary, deli or trough for babies.

So what's the thesis?

Maybe it's just this:

Ladies, if you want your guy to shut up, flash a boob or two.

Just know, you might get fondled at least, and ravished at most.

"Booo-biees"

Mafia vs Catholic Church

A friend of mine told me a joke recently...

What's the difference between the Catholic Church and the Mafia?
.
.
.
.

The Mafia believes in God.


Ouch.

Whether or not you think this joke is funny or not or in poor taste, read on...

Upon hearing that joke, the thought occurred to me:

What would the mafia do if one of their leaders, lieutenants, soldiers, or even just one of their new recruits was found to be molesting children?

Think about it.


If they lived even 24 hours after their secret was found out, they'd be in a world of hurt.

But most likely, they'd have a bulls eye on them so big, you could see it from space.


In fact, if a new recruit were found to be molesting children they'd at least get their package removed in a very unsanitary and unfriendly way (as if there's a friendly way to remove a man's rod and tackle).

But most likely, they'd get wacked and further most likely, they'd get wacked quickly and without sympathy or remorse.

Remind me, what has the catholic church done with child molesters?

How about the Mormon church?

They'd reassign them to another parish. Or they'd cover it up as long as the sinner confessed.

Now this is not to say that I'm condoning organized crime, or the catholic church, come to think of it, but at least the mafia has a zero tolerance policy when it comes to child molestation.

But that's my assumption. Does anyone out there really know?

Please weigh-in and let me know what you think.

The first rule of martial arts & how to let go of suffering...

Read to the end if you want to know the answer to the titular pondering.


I wish I could take credit for living and writing this. 


Not because I would wish for this experience myself, but because, like our friend Laura Munson, I've been working on ending my own suffering. Believe me, it's been met with resistance from my reactive mind. I've been doing The Tibetan Five and meditating most mornings, and that helps, but still, the stress/suffering still manages to creep in.... despite my best meditation & tibetan-laced efforts to let it go. The result being - I see how absurd my "suffering" is, but still feel distressed.


Does everyone understand what I mean by absurd? I wish I could describe it adequately, but the best I can do right now is: The absurdity of my suffering is that it's usually over something that is NOT actually life-threatening. Student or credit card loans are common ones, as well as: my car has to go into the shop again?!? The basics are actually handled right now. Food. Shelter. Clothing (too much, in fact). Love. 


So why suffer? Well, the best I can tell is it's some malfunction in the computer program. Historically, we've called this ego or reactive mind. While it might be useful for surviving in the wild when a saber-toothed tiger is after you, it doesn't prove especially useful in modern society, where there's a bevy of things to "stress" about, but hardly any that actually threaten our survival.


Funny thing is, the more research I do about health and the state of the world, the more I'm cleaning up my act about how I eat and live. But I don't stress about those things. They're almost too big for my processor, so I stress about the things that appear to be under my jurisdiction. 


Silly, huh?


Anyway, all of this rambling is just mental fourplay for the thing I actually meant for you all to read. My friend Lisa sent this to me two years ago and I was going through old email in an effort to clean up my computer and I came across this article and remembered how much I liked it when I read it. Thanks for sharing this with me, Lis. I have a feeling this will strike a particularly loud chord with some of you married folks out there.


I like it for many reasons, especially that it reminded me how we can actually choose whether we experience suffering or not.


Huh. Yeah, right. Tell that to my reactive mind.


August 2, 2009
Modern Love
Those Aren’t Fighting Words, Dear
By LAURA A. MUNSON

LET’S say you have what you believe to be a healthy marriage. You’re still friends and lovers after spending more than half of your lives together. The dreams you set out to achieve in your 20s — gazing into each other’s eyes in candlelit city bistros when you were single and skinny — have for the most part come true.

Two decades later you have the 20 acres of land, the farmhouse, the children, the dogs and horses. You’re the parents you said you would be, full of love and guidance. You’ve done it all: Disneyland, camping, Hawaii, Mexico, city living, stargazing.

Sure, you have your marital issues, but on the whole you feel so self-satisfied about how things have worked out that you would never, in your wildest nightmares, think you would hear these words from your husband one fine summer day: “I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever did. I’m moving out. The kids will understand. They’ll want me to be happy.”

But wait. This isn’t the divorce story you think it is. Neither is it a begging-him-to-stay story. It’s a story about hearing your husband say “I don’t love you anymore” and deciding not to believe him. And what can happen as a result.

Here’s a visual: Child throws a temper tantrum. Tries to hit his mother. But the mother doesn’t hit back, lecture or punish. Instead, she ducks. Then she tries to go about her business as if the tantrum isn’t happening. She doesn’t “reward” the tantrum. She simply doesn’t take the tantrum personally because, after all, it’s not about her.

Let me be clear: I’m not saying my husband was throwing a child’s tantrum. No. He was in the grip of something else — a profound and far more troubling meltdown that comes not in childhood but in midlife, when we perceive that our personal trajectory is no longer arcing reliably upward as it once did. But I decided to respond the same way I’d responded to my children’s tantrums. And I kept responding to it that way. For four months.

“I don’t love you anymore. I’m not sure I ever did.”

His words came at me like a speeding fist, like a sucker punch, yet somehow in that moment I was able to duck. And once I recovered and composed myself, I managed to say, “I don’t buy it.” Because I didn’t.

He drew back in surprise. Apparently he’d expected me to burst into tears, to rage at him, to threaten him with a custody battle. Or beg him to change his mind.

So he turned mean. “I don’t like what you’ve become.”

Gut-wrenching pause. How could he say such a thing? That’s when I really wanted to fight. To rage. To cry. But I didn’t.

Instead, a shroud of calm enveloped me, and I repeated those words: “I don’t buy it.”

You see, I’d recently committed to a non-negotiable understanding with myself. I’d committed to “The End of Suffering.” I’d finally managed to exile the voices in my head that told me my personal happiness was only as good as my outward success, rooted in things that were often outside my control. I’d seen the insanity of that equation and decided to take responsibility for my own happiness. And I mean all of it.

My husband hadn’t yet come to this understanding with himself. He had enjoyed many years of hard work, and its rewards had supported our family of four all along. But his new endeavor hadn’t been going so well, and his ability to be the breadwinner was in rapid decline. He’d been miserable about this, felt useless, was losing himself emotionally and letting himself go physically. And now he wanted out of our marriage; to be done with our family.

But I wasn’t buying it.

I said: “It’s not age-appropriate to expect children to be concerned with their parents’ happiness. Not unless you want to create co-dependents who’ll spend their lives in bad relationships and therapy. There are times in every relationship when the parties involved need a break. What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?”

“Huh?” he said.

“Go trekking in Nepal. Build a yurt in the back meadow. Turn the garage studio into a man-cave. Get that drum set you’ve always wanted. Anything but hurting the children and me with a reckless move like the one you’re talking about.”

Then I repeated my line, “What can we do to give you the distance you need, without hurting the family?”

“Huh?”

“How can we have a responsible distance?”

“I don’t want distance,” he said. “I want to move out.”

My mind raced. Was it another woman? Drugs? Unconscionable secrets? But I stopped myself. I would not suffer.

Instead, I went to my desk, Googled “responsible separation” and came up with a list. It included things like: Who’s allowed to use what credit cards? Who are the children allowed to see you with in town? Who’s allowed keys to what?

I looked through the list and passed it on to him.

His response: “Keys? We don’t even have keys to our house.”

I remained stoic. I could see pain in his eyes. Pain I recognized.

“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re going to make me go into therapy. You’re not going to let me move out. You’re going to use the kids against me.”

“I never said that. I just asked: What can we do to give you the distance you need ... ”

“Stop saying that!”

Well, he didn’t move out.

Instead, he spent the summer being unreliable. He stopped coming home at his usual six o’clock. He would stay out late and not call. He blew off our entire Fourth of July — the parade, the barbecue, the fireworks — to go to someone else’s party. When he was at home, he was distant. He wouldn’t look me in the eye. He didn’t even wish me “Happy Birthday.”

But I didn’t play into it. I walked my line. I told the kids: “Daddy’s having a hard time as adults often do. But we’re a family, no matter what.” I was not going to suffer. And neither were they.

MY trusted friends were irate on my behalf. “How can you just stand by and accept this behavior? Kick him out! Get a lawyer!”

I walked my line with them, too. This man was hurting, yet his problem wasn’t mine to solve. In fact, I needed to get out of his way so he could solve it.

I know what you’re thinking: I’m a pushover. I’m weak and scared and would put up with anything to keep the family together. I’m probably one of those women who would endure physical abuse. But I can assure you, I’m not. I load 1,500-pound horses into trailers and gallop through the high country of Montana all summer. I went through Pitocin-induced natural childbirth. And a Caesarean section without follow-up drugs. I am handy with a chain saw.

I simply had come to understand that I was not at the root of my husband’s problem. He was. If he could turn his problem into a marital fight, he could make it about us. I needed to get out of the way so that wouldn’t happen.

Privately, I decided to give him time. Six months.

I had good days, and I had bad days. On the good days, I took the high road. I ignored his lashing out, his merciless jabs. On bad days, I would fester in the August sun while the kids ran through sprinklers, raging at him in my mind. But I never wavered. Although it may sound ridiculous to say “Don’t take it personally” when your husband tells you he no longer loves you, sometimes that’s exactly what you have to do.

Instead of issuing ultimatums, yelling, crying or begging, I presented him with options. I created a summer of fun for our family and welcomed him to share in it, or not — it was up to him. If he chose not to come along, we would miss him, but we would be just fine, thank you very much. And we were.

And, yeah, you can bet I wanted to sit him down and persuade him to stay. To love me. To fight for what we’ve created. You can bet I wanted to.

But I didn’t.

I barbecued. Made lemonade. Set the table for four. Loved him from afar.

And one day, there he was, home from work early, mowing the lawn. A man doesn’t mow his lawn if he’s going to leave it. Not this man. Then he fixed a door that had been broken for eight years. He made a comment about our front porch needing paint. Our front porch. He mentioned needing wood for next winter. The future. Little by little, he started talking about the future.

It was Thanksgiving dinner that sealed it. My husband bowed his head humbly and said, “I’m thankful for my family.”

He was back.

And I saw what had been missing: pride. He’d lost pride in himself. Maybe that’s what happens when our egos take a hit in midlife and we realize we’re not as young and golden anymore.

When life’s knocked us around. And our childhood myths reveal themselves to be just that. The truth feels like the biggest sucker-punch of them all: it’s not a spouse or land or a job or money that brings us happiness. Those achievements, those relationships, can enhance our happiness, yes, but happiness has to start from within. Relying on any other equation can be lethal.

My husband had become lost in the myth. But he found his way out. We’ve since had the hard conversations. In fact, he encouraged me to write about our ordeal. To help other couples who arrive at this juncture in life. People who feel scared and stuck. Who believe their temporary feelings are permanent. Who see an easy out, and think they can escape.

My husband tried to strike a deal. Blame me for his pain. Unload his feelings of personal disgrace onto me.

But I ducked. And I waited. And it worked.
Laura A. Munson is a writer who lives in Whitefish, Mont. 


This thing makes me cry every time I read it.


Funny enough, the first rule of martial arts is: DUCK!


When someone's trying to punch you in the face, DUCK! 


I think this concept is rooted in zen philosophy. Because it's not just about leaving or running away from the fight, but about not participating in the violence. A block or hit to "defend" is still participating in the violence. But when you duck, you're actually staying present, but not contributing to the violence of the situation. 


Violence doesn't really work if there's nothing to push against.


I'm going to try this. A metaphoric duck when life's throwing me seemingly justifiable reasons to fret, worry, stress and suffer. Duck.


Duck!


So, everybody....


DUCK!

Up - The Power of Storytelling by Pixar

I happened across the movie Up on television recently.

I've seen it before, and while I don't remember ALL the details, I remember the general story and especially the 4 minutes in the beginning showing Carl & Ellie's life together.

It gets me every time. Every single time.

I know what's going to happen. I know they aren't able to have children. I know life & life's unexpected expenses intervene and prevent them from going on their big adventure. I know she dies.

But still, tears brim over as I witness this four-minute recap of this fictional couple. I feel silly but kind of enjoy the fact that all it takes is really good storytelling through visual narration and music.


How does it effect you?