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Climbing back on my soapbox.
Do you respond with great vigor to counting calories and otherwise watching what you eat? Are you concerned that you or someone you love may be ingesting too much comfort food?
So what do you do for your mental diet?
“Diet and exercise” is a phrase commonly applied to maintaining great physical health. We know it’s important. We know that if we don’t do it, we’ll suffer the consequences in expanding waistlines, reduced energy, and serious health problems. We’ll see and feel the negative effects in a very tangible way. It’s just a matter of time—tick, tock, tick, tock.
What about brain food?
The longer I live and the more I explore this world and its bloodstream of ideas, the more ways I discover that people are waiting for … and dreading … the big one.
When I was growing up, the first big one was thermonuclear holocaust at the hands of the Russians. I remember lying in bed dreading what the Russians were up to and wondering what I ever did to make them want to incinerate my dog and me. I was just a little kid. Of course, this was at a time in my youth when I believed that the United States of America would truly do no wrong. We were here to save the world. Only foreign countries did bad things, and God pledged allegiance to us.
By the time the Cuban Missile Crisis arrived, a new antagonist had stepped center stage—Satan! One of my very first girlfriends was a Jehovah’s Witness, and she (but mostly her mother) told me all about how we were all awaiting Armageddon, the battle royal between the meanies of hell and the angels of heaven. That would usher in the wonderful new world where you could happily play with rattlesnakes and lions in paradisical friendship.
Is there some unwritten law that prohibits characters in woo-woo movies and novels from being inquisitive about their paranormal encounters? Do they always have to be so thick-headed in the face of revolutionary changes to their reality?
If I saw Shoeless Joe Jackson standing on a baseball field that I made out of a cornfield after a voice told me if I build it he will come, I’d have a few questions. I’d show a little spunk. I wouldn’t just leave it at, “Oh, there’s Shoeless Joe Jackson. Hi there.”
Don’t get me wrong. Field of Dreams is one of my favorite movies. That’s largely because it whets my appetite for more answers about why we’re here on this planet.
Do you have a book inside you? A lot of people swear they do. They’ve got a story they’re itching to tell the world in book form.
I met a woman at Borders by the metaphysical book section. After we chatted some she mentioned that God wants her to write a book. Several people I’ve met (not including Neale Donald Walsch) have told me that God—or Spirit, the Universe, angels, extraterrestrials, or “my guide”—wants them to write a book.










