Sabine is a German Companion Animal practitioner (teacher) and wrote to the yahoo group recently to ask for TTouch help for her thumb. She had an injury that resulted in a “snapping” thumb, also known as “trigger thumb” – when the two joints in the thumb pop with the slightest movement. In a recent surgery, a nerve was moved and now that the stitches are out she can feel only 3/4 of the thumb and the rest is numb.

Here’s what I wrote to her:

Dear Sabine,

You have to be extremely respectful of your thumb and treat it with MUCH RESPECT, as though it belonged to someone else you were working on. Most people have the tendency to be angry or frustrated with themselves and use too much pressure. That means you would not be in heart coherence and the healing will take longer.

I had the same problem with my thumb after working on a friend who had years of so much back pain. She could not ride horses any more and her back felt very little except pain. I TTouched her with Nashorn with a 10 pressure for a long time. I NEVER do more than 5 or 6 TTouches at a 10 pressure. It seemed to give her a lot of relief, but I wound up with popping joints in my thumb. I bought a thumb brace to keep it from popping, and did lots of TTouches on it. Now it is totally normal.

My personal experience doesn’t help you, except that I can well imagine what you are going through. And you CAN encourage your body to heal with the help of TTouch and a clear image of how you want your thumb to recover. You’ve got more work to do since the OP operation (?). Talk to your thumb as you do 2 pressure, 2 second Raccoon TTouches –FIRST ON THE HEALTHIER THUMB–reminding your other thumb what it is like to feel it, imagining that your affected thumb can feel it.

It’s important to IMAGINE the cells responding – activating- with light in the cells and sending messages to the parts that cannot yet feel.

I suggest keeping a journal. Give yourself about 5 minutes a day, every day. Map the parts you can feel – and the parts you cannot YET feel. Every day!

When TTouching your thumb, alternate between a 3 pressure (so long as there is no discomfort) and a 2 pressure. If you find that you are holding your breath with a 3 pressure, do less.

If you send me some feedback on these TTouches and procedures, I may have other suggestions for you. It is very important that you hold the image of the improvements you want. That’s proven to be successful to support healing.

Enjoy the journey and know you will learn much.

Liebe Grüße,

Linda

…and Sabine’s response:

Dear Linda,

You ttouched my heart very deeply. I felt the love while you were writing this to me. It was as if you read my mind. Yes, some days I am frustrated. I will do everything you suggested. What a great idea to keep a journal – with my dog clients I always do.
I wish I had known before about a thumb brace. But past is past – things happen for a reason!
Thank you so much for letting me share your own experince.

Lot´s of heart hugs to YOU and your family (2 legs or 4 legs)
Love,

Sabine

Hej hoes.
Så er det i aften det går løs med sjov og ballade.
Lige nu er jeg hjemme hos Sabine – Anna kommer snart og henter os,
og så skal vi hjem til hende og spise pizza og drikke os fulde.
Det bliver rigtig hyggeligt, tror jeg. Senere kommer Mette og Xandra.

Efter skole idag var jeg med mor oppe i byen. Jeg fandt et par rigtig
flotte højhælede sko, som jeg har kigget på før. De var på tilbud, så
dem købte jeg og mor gav et tilskud. Søde mor. Vi fik lidt frokost, og
mor købte en trøje, som jeg fik overbevist hende om at jeg skulle have
på i aften ikke dårligt! Så nu har jeg da lidt fint at have på.
Dog skal jeg ikke være så fandens fuld, for der er jo julefrokost i morgen,
og jeg bliver hentet af far klokken syv i morgen tidlig, og så skal jeg hjem
og rydde op. Men what the fuck … LIVING ON THE EDGE!!!!

Gabi, Julie og drengene skal til gymnasiefest, og det skal vi andre ikke,
så vi mødes først i byen, men det er nu okay. Jeg fortryder altid at jeg
har taget med til de fester. Det eneste gode ved det, er at man kan
komme gratis ind på daisy. Nå, det skal det nok blive en rigtig sjov
aften.. Og det er så om et par timer jeg skal ligne en million, være fuld
og Lars skal være i byen.. Var det ikke dét vi aftalte igår??..

We haven’t posted in a while, but perhaps now that we have a new site that sparkles a little more we’ll feel a little more compelled to keep everyone updated.

Tom just started work on his thesis and I’ve been busy studying for the GMAT in order to apply to business school. Also, we’ve been talking with an architect about remodeling our home. Assuming all goes well over the next two months, 2010 is going to be a really crazy rollercoaster ride. Bring it on!

This was just a quickie (running out to catch up with half-price oyster night at Parkside), but I leave you with this photo of our bean for more entertainment. Don’t say I never do anything for you.

snort. snore. snort. snore.

Jeg får ikke skrevet så meget for tiden, for der sker hele tiden noget. Jeg øver rigtig meget musical for tiden, og hvor er det dog dejligt. Jeg må indrømme, at jeg har haft mine betænkligheder omkring det og om hvorvidt jeg passede ind længere. Men det er så dejligt at være med nu. Hele dage med Sceptor er simpelthen mums. Jeg glæder mig til weekenden, hvor vi skal øve igen igen igen. Og i morgen for den sags skyld. Det bliver lækkert.
Der er så mange søde mennesker med, som jeg lige pludselig er kommet tæt på. Nynne som jeg faktisk altid har haft det rigtig godt med. Hun har været med alle de år, hvor jeg også har været med, så hun er helt uundværlig for mig når vi øver. Kilde – som jeg først har lært at kende i år. En pige på omkring 15 år som er noget af det sødeste. Jeg ser så meget af mig selv i hende, at det er lidt uhyggeligt nogle gange. Jeg er taknemmelig for at have lært hende at kende. Lars – som jeg også først har lært at kende i år. Han er virkelig sjov og en rigtig rar, sød dreng! Vi har nogle rigtige sjove øjeblikke sammen engang imellem. Thomas – som bare er Thomas, og det kan man ikke få nok af! Bjarne, Judy, Nana, Siri, Manja, Marie, Morten – de er allesammen så dejlige at omgås med. TAK!

Det går fint herhjemme. Jeg er ikke så meget hjemme for tiden, så når jeg endelig er hjemme, er min far meget glad for at være i mit selskab, og det er rigtig dejligt at mærke. Jeg tog en lur på sofaen idag og så lidt fjernsyn med ham, det tror jeg faktisk, han syntes var ret hyggeligt. Det går også så godt med mor. Hun er flyttet tilbage til sit tidligere hus, hvor hun nu har overetagen og det er altså blevet rigtig hyggeligt, kan I tro. Jeg kan godt lide at være der, og det er altid så hyggeligt at være i mors selskab. Jeg skal derhjem og sove i morgen, og det glæder jeg mig faktisk til. Vi hygger og snakker altid så meget, mmh.

Derimod kan jeg overhoved ikke koncentrere mig om at gå i skole for tiden. Jeg har en dansk stil for, som jeg aldrig får lavet. Jeg gider virkelig ikke. Det er dejligt at se de søde mennesker i klassen, men det er da også det eneste, jeg kan koncentrere mig om for tiden. Det er dumt at jeg nedprioriterer det, men det er så svært, når der er så mange spændende ting, man kan lave udover! I fredags havde jeg en rigtig hyggelig aften med Sabine. Hun er altid nem at tage sig tid til <3 I lørdag var jeg til koncert og se Mads Langer med Ragnhild. Ooooh my, det var så nice. Han er så fed live, det fatter I slet ikke - han er så dygtig – han synger så smukt. I’d do him Så var der håndboldkamp søndag og mere musical. SKØN weekend, og jeg kan slet ikke vente til det bliver weekend igen, så jeg kan være sammen med så mange skønne mennesker. Sceptor, mit håndboldhold og ikke mindst min familie. MUMS for en weekend.

When I was a teenager, tormented as I was by hormones, hallucinations, and the blossom of madness, I most often found refuge in music. Plugging in my headphones, I could drown out the carnival sideshow of my mind. Innately, I began to sort music according to my mood; shoe-gazer ditties for depression and uptempo Brit-pop for mania. I listened intently, repeating songs compulsively to make out the lyrics.

Losing myself in the scenes and stories articulated in the songs, I felt a nascent kinship with the people responsible for producing the music with which I identified. In retrospect, I believe this is what prompted me to start writing. I imagined, vividly, being a singer/songwriter, playing to an adoring audience, perfecting my onstage persona in front of the mirror. Though I have little, if no, musical ability, I wrote my angsty teenage heart out. I played (badly) in several bands and became more adventurous in my musical selections, listening to anything and everything, even if only once. Purchases at the record store were made on the basis of cleverness of band name, color of album art, and more than once, completely at random. My life unfolded against a backdrop of almost constant sound.

By the time I’d made my way to the University of Illinois, the fury of seeking out new music subsided. I played The Beautiful South and The Trashcan Sinatras religiously, and the few additions to my collection generally came as recommendations from friends. Whatever was played, was played softly so as not to intrude upon the meaningful, philosophical conversations we seemed always to be having. Upon returning to the city, influenced as I was by the drug-induced expansion of my mind, I routinely set the radio dial to classic rock stations. There was also music played at parties, of course, but I was generally too drunk or too libidinous to notice much in the way of details.

When I finally met and began living with my ex-wife, we spent more of our time snuggled on the couch, reading or watching movies and discussing them afterward. As the years went by, we incorporated more television into the regimen and read before going to sleep. After the birth of our daughter, everything was a blur of lullabies, rattles and the occasional crying. The music of my youth had vanished and I failed to notice. This is not to say that I felt the lack of it, simply that it wasn’t a priority. I was happy in my life and occupied with being a husband and a father.

After my hospitalization, I shambled about my apartment in abject stupefaction and silence, wishing and waiting to die. Having no attention span whatsoever, I found myself sitting for hours, staring vacantly at the walls. When at last I found that I could manage to do something, I drank and smoked. Progressively though, I killed more of my time online and began playing music to soften the oppressive nature of the quiet. Tired of the old standbys, I set out to find new music for moping. With the cost of CDs higher, and the general quality of music lower than when I was in High School, I was opposed to shooting in the dark and purchasing blindly. I was delighted (as much as one can be while depressed and suicidal) to find the prospect so effortless.

Before the proliferation of the internet, there were listening carrels in which to preview music at the end of the aisles in record stores. The options were limited to twelve or so selections and usually of the most commercial variety. Far from ideal, one had to stand there wearing grimy headphones and navigate the offerings on a push button menu similar to a jukebox. I was awestruck then, at the volume of music that could be searched for, sampled and streamed online nearly instantaneously. I was like a kid in the proverbial candy store, finding myself feverishly clicking the “similar artists” link on music sites.

Thanks to the internet, I’ve discovered scores of bands whose work has moved and motivated me; inspiring and invigorating me when my spirit has flagged. I cannot think of the last year without recalling specific songs. These days, I seldom go for very long without indulging, though I still have a tendency to moodsort.

Some of my fondest memories of childhood are of waking up on weekends to a house filled with music as my mother cleaned. Though the years have passed, I still feel a warm regard for those old songs when I happen to hear them. In my recent visits with my daughter, I have made an effort to include more music into our time together. Hoping to share a similar connection, I will often turn something on during our play time or baths. She loves to sing along to the things I play and I love to listen to her. As far as I know, she’s the only 3-year old M. Ward fan.

Helicopter – M. Ward

Desert Planet Creature By Andreabianco

La quarta categoria sono gli spazi della consapevolezza galattica, che come già sapete (vedi “Apertura dei Portali”, immagine rispecchiamento), dal 2005 scorre attraverso il Polo Sud nei campi energetici della terra, ascendendo a Nord. Qui si trattò di liberare la mia connessione cosmico-planetaria, il respiro verticale, che contiene un centro-cuore nel cosmo, uno nella terra e uno in me stessa, e di permettere l’Unità di tutti i centri con il mio cuore. Puh, questo non era senza….!

E questi spazi galattici si possono dividere ancora in altre due categorie:

1) Quella consapevolezza galattica femminile, che diventa sempre più Uno con gli spazi del pianeta, la nostra terra femminile. Questo l’ho appena descritto. È il ritorno dei giardini paradisiaci lemuriani – precisamente come era stato annunciato. Se Qui e Orai inspirate profondamente, le percepirete – attiratele anche voi ed espandetele nei vostri giardini e paesaggi. Sperimentate questo. Funziona!

2) Quella consapevolezza maschile che conosciamo già in parte, comunque come flotta della confederazione intergalattica, che da due decenni nelle loro navicelle (vedi foto della nave di nubi) sono stazionate sopra la terra, per svolgere in questo periodo furioso di trasformazione una grande gamma di servizi necessari per la terra e per l’umanità. Certamente ho incontrato lì, dopo alcuni anni, di nuovo, il comandante Ashtar Sheran (Udo, quando sente questo nome ogni volta esprime un concetto sconcio, sembra che sia molto intrinsecamente imparentato con lui, hihi) ma non solo con lui….! Di più vi rivelerò solo, quando avrò esplorato maggiormente questa scoperta.

Tratto da
http://www.kristallmensch.net/domande-e-risposte.html

I lost my job in July and, without an income, my apartment shortly thereafter. Having nowhere else to go, I moved in with my father, which was just as well as I had also lost the faintest semblance of mental stability. I was excited at first, figuring that being around someone else would normalize my behavior. I expected that I would eat and sleep more regularly and at the very least have some company.

Things went well initially, but my father is not generous with either his conversation or affection. He opens up a bit after a few beers and in the past our visits always included drinking, though I usually took my leave before he became pernicious. The first Saturday I was here, he and his girlfriend went out for the evening. Off my meds and feeling volatile between the ears, I began drinking, alone. When they returned several hours later, I had finished all his beer, the box of wine in the refrigerator, and about four fingers of hard liquor. He found me in the back yard, pacing and alternating crying jags and fits of laughter. I was waving a hammer like a loon and greedily gulping my drink. After apologizing for eradicating his booze, he shuffled off to bed without saying much. A few belts of liquor later, I went to sleep as the sun came up.

When I awoke the next day, in the late afternoon, he was out. Walking into the kitchen, I noticed that not only was the liquor gone, but the cabinet that housed it as well. He had packed up anything remotely resembling a spirit and hauled it off who knows where. As I stood there, my blood being the most alcoholic liquid in the house, I told myself bending the elbow less would probably not be the worst thing in the world.

A short while later, he and his girlfriend arrived with bags of groceries in tow, a twelve pack of non-alcoholic beer among the parcels. I scurried off to my room like a cockroach, preferring, as I usually do, to keep my own company when his companion visits. In the evening, I was called out for dinner and noticed an array of empties lined up on the counter. Feeling a pang of guilt as he cracked another can, I told him that he could keep liquor in the house without fear of my diving into it. Although it probably wasn’t true at the time, I meant it, knowing as I do that he enjoys drinking. He said it was fine and we ate our meal in relative silence.

In the weeks to come, without the assistance of fermented fluids, the conversation between us dwindled and become increasingly forced. The end of September brought my daughter’s third birthday and my ex-wife and I planned a party to celebrate. I had mentioned this to my father the week before to ensure that he’d attend, as he hadn’t seen her in a number of months and had not been present for her last birthday. In fact, he’s only seen her a handful of times since she was born. The day before the party, he went shopping for a gift and made outward gestures of planning to attend.

Bright and early on my Little’s birthday, I made my way by train into the city. Eager to ease the tension of spending time alone with my former in-laws, I anxiously awaited the arrival of my relatives. We had planned an afternoon at the lakeshore before returning to my ex-wife’s condo for the formal party. My mother and sister arrived around midday and everyone sat and enjoyed the sunshine while Sabine raced around the playground in a delirium of squeals and laughter. Having left at the same time as my mother and sister, I was nonplussed when my father had not arrived. About an hour later, my sister informed me that he’d called her to say he had a terrible toothache and would not be coming after all. For this and other reasons, the remainder of the day was a thorough kick in the junk, though my daughter enjoyed herself and, that, in my mind, made the tribulations bearable.

When I returned to my father’s house, I found him sitting and talking with his girlfriend. I felt a swell of profound anger and decided it would be best to excuse myself for the night. In the morning, upon venturing out into the kitchen, my father said grimly, “Sit down. We need to talk.” I sat down, knowing him well enough to expect that the conversation would not be pleasant. He began by apologizing brusquely for not making it to the party, though I cut him off before he could finish. His excuses didn’t matter to me, it was his attendance that had. I imagine this upset him because he immediately took me to task for not being more helpful around the house, for skulking about and spending all my time on my computer, and for not greeting the day early and with vigor. Rather than argue with him, I said simply, “Okay.”

In the next month, the lines of communication deteriorated even more until now we find ourselves dodging one another altogether and refusing even to greet each other when it can’t be avoided. Ironic then, that I came here for camaraderie and wound up feeling even more alone.

mmh, lørdag. Dejlig dejlig dejlig lørdag. Dejlig dejlig dejlig weekend.

Igår var vi til Annas fødselsdagsfest, det var rigtig hyggeligt. Det var med mad og (næsten) fri bar og det hele. Skøn aften. Jeg tog hjem til Sabine og sov bagefter og vågnede op med tømmermænd og dejlig morgenmad. Musical. Dejlig dag med Sceptorfolket, hvor jeg lærte en hel masse. Meget lærerig dag og en masse hygge. Aftensmad hos fars kæreste, Lena. Stegte ål, mm. Sammen med Jesper og Maria og far. Rigtig dejlig aften med en masse snak og en masse grin og kærlighed. Det har været en skøn aften, der har gjort mig rigtig glad. Det er første gang længe jeg føler mig helt okay igen efter det med S. Det gør mig ingenting, at han ikke har skrevet og at han ikke er interesseret. Jeg har så mange andre ting, jeg har slet ikke brug for ham til at tænke på mig mere. Jeg har fået ny sofa og en ny stol til mit værelse, så her er så hyggeligt, at det slet ikke gør mig noget at sidde hjemme alene en lørdag aften. Tværtimod, det er så dejligt. Jeg skal læse lidt, rydde lidt op, spille lidt guitar, være længe oppe, hygge med musik og stearinlys. Mums for en weekend, og jeg glæder mig til næste weekend og Ragnhild.. som jeg savner.

Nu skal Sabine og jeg ned til vores glade sømænd sammen med Julie og Gabs. Det bliver lækkert, jeg glæder mig til at se på sådan nogle lækre skår Update later!

19:30 uur
Histories realisme

 ALMERE – Volgens een NRD-poll wil 91% Big Brother (het klassieke format) terug op de Nederlandse buis. Daarom nog één keer. Een week lang het allerbeste van Big Brother.

Van de makers van Het allerbeste van de Gouden Kooi.

Aflevering 4: de kus

Het allerbeste van Big Brother aflevering 4

 De kus

Morgen aflevering 5 (slot):
Ryan en Jen hebben sex (met ondertiteling)

bonustrack

I’ve been craving the satisfaction that is only derived from writing a new blog post, but have honestly had nothing substantial to say. And I still don’t, but at least I’m getting my intentions down. I promise to return in the near future with an update about life, Sabine, literary happy hour, and the den.

Einen Urlaubstag haben wir genutzt, um einen Ausflug auf die Insel Rügen zu machen. Einmal mussten wir als Pflicht meine Bild aus Binz abholen. Den Nachmittag haben wir genutzt, um das herrliche Wetter auf Mönchgut zu genießen. Aber dieses ist schon wieder eine andere Geschichte.

Mit dem Bild “Illustre Badegesellschaft” hatte ich mich an dem Kunstwettbewerb « Binzer Strand- und Badeleben » beteiligt und ich war natürlich gespannt, welche Bilder als Teilnehmer für die Ausstellung und Preisträger ausgewählt wurden.

Nun leider habe ich hierzu keine Pressenotiz oder Hinweise auf der Seite von Binz gefunden. Also war die Spannung groß. Ich habe für Sie ein paar Schnappschüsse zusammen gestellt. Es war schwer alle Bilder zu erfassen, da ein Teil vor Glasfenstern steht und im Gegenlicht ….

Eine Überraschung war es für mich, auf Platz 1 ein Aquarell zu finden. Ein sehr seltenes Ergebnis, was mich aber aus zwei Gründen gefreut hat. Einmal weil es von Bernhard Vogel ist und zum anderen weil ich selber mit Aquarellfarben versuche meine Bilder umzusetzen. Auf der Seite von Bernhard Vogel habe ich dann auch eine Quelle für die Preisverleihung gefunden.
Ich habe aber alle Ausstellungsteilnehmer notiert und auch mal deren Webseiten besucht. Die Nummern auf den Fotos entsprechen denen auf den Fotos. Ich habe mal zum Vergleich für Sie meine Bilder aus der Serie…. dazu gefügt.

Am besten verschaffen Sie sich alleine einen Eindruck, denn die Ausstellung ist noch bis Ende Oktober zu sehen.