Monday, November 10, 2014
Mr. Tolle is right.
I have been giving this premise lot of thought. The more I consider it the clearer its message becomes:
DON'T GIVE UP!
As much as I appreciate the message, the execution is another matter altogether.
It has been borderline impossible the last few weeks to maintain a positive attitude. I have sunk into despair many times, pitied my pathetic plight and considered options which only a suicide bomber could relate.
I tried several times yesterday to prod my longtime pal in Hollywood into offering me a job. I metaphorically groveled and metaphysically whined. I am broke, on medication and living in an RV for cryin'-out-loud.
GIMME A JOB AND I'LL BE THERE IN THE MORNING.
There is not much to hang on to.
I guess I have me. My base. My core. My relentlessness. I will hang.
If I am not going to quit, and I am not, then the very least I can do to feed my soul is maintain a vigilant effort. There has to be value in that.
It is officially thirty days since the pacer implant. There seems to be little negative side-effect of the Amiodorone, as there was the first go-around over a year and a half ago. The first time it lowered my HR to levels that limited blood flow to brain much like a beaver's prized dam limits the flow of the river. This time, with the pacer (with beaver-like gumption) regulating and restricting the rate at +/- 60bpm, that doesn't seem to be an issue. I still feel dizzy at times, fatigued at others, with sleep sometimes coming only after hours of reading, but at least I can work-out and occupy my mind with the task of physical output.
In that I give plenty of effort. Or, as some say, Media Parking Only.