Monday, July 30, 2012

"Every Cancer Can Be Cured"

Answers to Cancer - Dr. Leonard Coldwell

Dr. Caldwell says that the cure rate for people who treated their cancer with chemotherapy is about 2%, while the cure rate for people who did nothing (no treatment)  was 27%.  

Saturday, July 28, 2012


I've been thinking about what hope is and watching Netflix videos about the holocaust for the past few weeks. The documentaries are well done, educational and interesting, but to show these in a classroom the instructor might have to provide counseling of some sort along with the films. The interviews with survivors and actual 1940's footage are priceless as a method of instantly conveying that this really happened, to real people, people just like us. But before continuing this education by documentary I'm going to have to figure out how hope fits in, rather than hopelessness, which is what I'm thinking of after watching these documentaries. here's my favorite Tracy song about hope, Let it Rain.

And here's the song that always makes me laugh, sing it real loud while you're doing the dishes and see if it doesn't make you smile:

Monday, July 23, 2012

Being Peace

Being Peace by Thich Nhat Hanh

Do not say that I'll depart tomorrow
because even today I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second
to be a bud on a spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
in order to fear and to hope,
the rhythm of my heart is the birth and
death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird, which, when spring comes,
arrives in time to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond,
and I am also a grass-snake, who,
approaching in silence,
feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks,
and I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his
"debt of blood" to my people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom in all walks of life.
My pain is like a river of tears, so full
it fills up the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and all my laughs at once,
so that I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up,
and so the door of my heart can be left open,
the door of compassion.