Quantum Shift, A Thing of Beauty and a New Adventure

Some months ago, Gwendolyn Holden Barry sent my mother a Quantum Shift mister because I thought it would facilitate the sale of her house.  This opinion was based on the fact that every time Mudgie (short for Curmudgeon) and my dad, whom we call "Spot," invariably engaged in some level of hostilities any time they had to clean up and clear out so an agent could show the place.  Mudgie likes the house to be clean enough so that a doctor could perform surgery in any room if necessary, and it's pressure on everyone involved even though she's right about most everything associated with real estate transactions.  The hostility is typically compounded by the fact that neither one of my parents can hear worth shit anymore, and they each expect and anticipate criticism from the other.  Ergo:  anytime one of them says something, the other is automatically defensive, assuming anyone ever heard anything at all.  Once they start shouting simply so they can hear each other, they both get agitated.  Losing your hearing is pretty fucking annoying.

It was my considered opinion that all this hostility gave a negative charge to the atmosphere in the house, much like thunder lingers after a storm has passed, and that if they'd just take a moment to spritz some Quantum Shift about the place on their way out the door, and thought happy thoughts just like Peter Pan told the Darlings when he was showing them how to fly, then the atmosphere would be more pleasant and the house would sell.  I explained all this to my mother when I ordered the mister and told her that I was never setting foot in that house again in order to underline the emotional intention.

As it happened, after sitting on the market for years, she got a few offers - and even though most of them were bullshit since that's how entitled douchebags operate these days, one was fully acceptable.  They wound up closing on that house and moving into a new one all in the first couple of weeks of December, so we just had Christmas holidays in my parents' new home in the Houston suburbs.  This neighborhood is far better than the old one because there are no oil company executives and if there are any teabaggers, they don't broadcast their views via stupid bumper stickers.

Now, I don't think Gwendolyn Holden Barry is making magic potions in her little workshop at Daughters of Isis in Florida, but I do think that emotions have an electrical charge that affects our bodies and our environments.  My brother-in-law the physicist says so and he's been working with this stuff for decades, or at least, he says that the electrical charges in the cells of our bodies cause chemical breakdowns that lead to diseases like cancer and emotions do alter our biological chemistry.

For people who might consider the conversation of PhD physicists to be anecdotal evidence, and therefore tantamount to bullshit, the physical impact of emotional energy has been demonstrated by Dr. Masaru Emoto in his experiments with water:

Now, some people dismiss Dr. Emoto's work as pseudoscience and even declare that his experiments are a hoax.  These hard-nosed skeptics criticize his methods but don't say he's a faker like a notorious faith healer in a traveling carnival on the prairie.  I wouldn't mention anything about his detractors except that Pinko is one of those hard-nosed skeptics who smell charlatans at every turn. 

I don't deny that there are plenty of charlatans looking to make a quick buck in this world, but I do think that when information is offered without a price attached, there's no reason to automatically reject it simply because it doesn't fit in with the structure of reality as defined by old school academics and other mainstream authorities.  Universities and other institutions haven't explored a lot of topics because they're busy scrambling to grab as much grant money as they can find from organizations and corporations that are looking to profit from the studies.  The Koch brothers finance plenty of Climate Science projects, for example.  Further, opinionated people - whether they are supply side economists, Talmudic scholars or legislators interpreting history and/or the Constituion - often pick and choose evidence to support their personal bias - so from where I sit, the skeptic's position may be just as tenuous as the position they are dismissing as bullshit.

But all that is really beside the point.  The point is that Gwendolyn isn't making magic potions - she's making tools that help people connect with their unconscious feelings in order to clarify and focus their conscious thinking and intentions.  And no matter how you look at it, Mudgie finally sold her house after she spritzed the citrus blend in Gwendolyn's mister instead of throwing some slice and bake chocolate chip cookies into the oven like so many real estate agents recommend.  Actually, Mudgie had some ceramic thing that you could heat up so the house smelled like peach pie which was kind of cool, but she'd blown off that stuff over the last couple of years.  Most likely the house smelled like cleansers.

I'm enjoying the quiet upstairs in my parents' new house.  It was fun to have the whole family together for a few days working puzzles and eating entirely too much homemade candy, but I need to rest.  In three weeks, I'm heading out to Reno to meet Pinko's parents.  This new development resulted from a conversation Pinko had with his dad about his plan to go back to driving in order to save up some money to move to New York in late March.  His dad surprised him by saying that Pinko should get himself to New York right away and said he'd arrange for the air fare.  His dad has lots of accumulated miles, so he's covered my round trip to Reno as well as Pinko's one way ticket to New York City.  We booked the flights today.

In the past, Pinko and his dad butted heads so thoroughly that they both dug in their heels and didn't talk much for some years.  It sounds to me like they both like to be right and have a stubborn streak - but if it's one thing I learned over the years it's that my parents may not have been who I wanted them to be when I was a kid, but they are 100% the kind of parents I need now.  It looks like the same is true in Pinko's family.

Pinko had to move home when he'd exhausted his savings after an extended period of unemployment like so many people have during this "Great Recession," but if that hardship resulted in a comfortable, supportive family relationship, it's a Thing of Beauty (#075-101 h/t Jennifer Morrison at realia).

I have a few more days of rest here with my own parents, then I have to hit the ground running when I get back to the city.  Once the surgery is behind me, I've got to lose 5 pounds, find a hand-me-down dresser for Pinko and get to the nail salon for mani/pedi and an eyebrow wax.  I may get a lip wax just to be safe.  Pinko and I are fixing to set out on an adventure together, and it wouldn't do to have random facial hair.