Healthcanc

A post on Top Five disappeared last week. You'll understand why in awhile. It got embarrassing. Three snapshots, all related to the movie in one way or another: (1) catastrophic expectations , (2) cooperative couple decision-making , and (3) two movies we probably don't have to let our kids see. Take it away. 1. The Catastrophic Expectation After publishing about the new Chris Rock movie, a crazy thing happened. A catastrophic expectation came true, related to my fear that the blog would be pirated and spammed with objectionable photos. It happened on Facebook last year. We opened the ap to find new pics, except we hadn't posted any. Thousands, mortified. Facebook rectified the situation immediately. But if this happens to me, what do I do? Delete years of psycho-education? I pushed "publish" for the Top Five review, but probably because of the word (in bold yet) that starts with a "p", ends with an "n" and has an "or" in the midd...

Most, almost all of our behavior is unconscious. We've said it before. But here's a good one. Both my parents passed away in the last four years, so I have accumulated a lot of things, hard as we try to donate, sell stuff on Ebay, and pitch. And my mom and I wore the same size. Cut off our heads, same body. So naturally, it is impossible to merely give away her wardrobe, and ditto for the jewelry, some of it, most of it, sort of. . . dated.  Retro. I'll be at a brunch, or a holiday party, and one of my kids will compliment me on something, say a flamingo pin. My response, conditioned, unaware: You like it?  Take it!  It is yours!   And I proceed to fiddle with the pin. No! No! That is not what I meant!  I did not mean, by complimenting your obviously very rare and lovely pin that I want it. It looks good on you!  Wear it in good health! Why do you always do this. We compliment something and you immediately begin to disrobe? Flummoxed.  Makes no sense. ...

It's my birthday, so yeah, regrets I've had a few.  Ever late to the party, I just learned that podcasts are  much better than craning your neck to watch Netflix on a tablet while pretending to dice vegetables for the salad. The New York Times story about William Cimillo Let's start with The Leap from This American Life . Then we can move on to Regrets, I've Had a Few . We'll consider a few ideas, other sides of the story. First, The Leap, Podcast 539 : Tales of brave souls who take blind, if calculated risks that others only dream about. We don't have the guts, and for good reasons: even executed with panache, a real risk gambles livelihood, relationships, reputation, and mental health. What could be worth all that? We'll see. For starters (Act One), in 1947 William Cimillo , a bored New York bus driver, hi-jacked his own bus , the one he droves each day, same route, every day. He woke up one morning, puts on his cap, took the wheel and decided to take ...

If I searched statistics to find which of the hundreds of essays on this blog has been read the most, strangely enough, it wouldn't be the one about enmeshment. Before reading   Glimpsing Heaven ,  Judy Bachrach 's new book about near death experiences, seeing  ghosts , in this doc's professional world, had been associated with religious beliefs (cultural delusions) or mental illness. Now I'll have to rewrite the post. There exists a quiet, circumspect, yet substantial population reporting near death experiences (NDE's), according to IANDS , the International Association for Near-Death Studies . Approximately 200,000 Americans a year tell select friends or relatives that they experienced life after death. They speak of travel beyond the moon, past Mars, no spaceship necessary. Even Oprah  has chimed in. She interviewed actress Sharon Stone , an experiencer . Ms. Bachrach, who is a journalist and rightfully suspicious of the whole business, set out to find the...

Me Before You: Joj We're already in gift-giving season. My favorites are the intangibles. Y esterday was Veteran's Day in the USA, and coincidentally, I had just finished reading Me Before You ., a book about disability. The story doesn't relabel disability as differently-abled . Will Traynor, before his accident, could do almost anything, but he no longer can.   My daughter-in-law tossed the book at me, had knocked it off in a day. But it seemed sophomoric, at first, took me awhile to get into. But when someone else really likes something, you try a little harder. The word in Hollywood is that  Emilia Clarke  of Game of Thrones will star in a coming movie as Louisa Clark, no relation, and Sam Claflin  of Hunger Games is a likely Will Traynor. So we'll keep the spoilers to a bare minimum.    Chick   lit , sure, but much to take away. Me Before You-Jojo Moyes Louisa Clark is an ordinary enough person, a r eally good person, the type of young a...

Just because we own that we contribute to dysfunctional interactions (in our own special ways), doesn't mean we can stop. Codependency is like that. Not shown, the blood. This one could be a scene from a Woody Allen movie. A therapist gets a text to learn that her grandchildren, toddlers, are at the park. "Want to stop by and see us? You pass right by going to work." Well, it is on my way. But something hangs her up and by the time her bicycle sidles up to the swingset, the grandkids are gone. Too bad, but it is the type of day a person just continues on her way and hums,  Ain't nothin' gonna break'a my stride. Nobody's gonna' slow me down. . . The path she didn't take It is that rare season that Chicagoans call  Indian Summer . Not only are the leaves every shade of red, green, and yellow, but the thermometer has punched a balmy 75 degrees and it is only 11:30 a.m. Rather than detour west to the paved bike route along the river (read that safe ),...

Warning: Do not read if you have issues with insect deaths at the hands of bullying humans. Asian Japanese Lady Beetle suvivors   Also, apologies in advance if this post offends any religion, be it mine or yours, I'm really sorry. It is all intended in good fun. The story goes* that I graduated high school a semester early, but the University of Illinois didn't accept early admissions. My parents made higher education sound more appealing than a K-Mart job, so taking six introductory liberal arts classes at Roosevelt University managed to kill the time. I took public transportation downtown. One day a young man with frizzy sideburns and bluejeans sat down next to me on the train. Within seconds he started to mumble, or maybe chant. He did this for awhile, then seemingly satisfied, stopped. As he fished inside his backpack for a book, I asked what that was about.  He told me that he learned a mantra from a Zen master, and chanting the mantra made him calm and happy. "Wo...