The Little Gap With Big Possibilities

Have you ever read something that you connected with in an eerie sort of way? This has happened to me on various occasions throughout my life. I recall one such occasion when I first encountered Albert Camus’ Myth of Sisyphus back in my senior year in high school.

We had a substitute teacher who came in to take over the second half of the school year. Up until that point in my life, I had never encountered any formal introduction to philosophy, or any literary works that explored philosophical issues.

Our substitute teacher in question, Mrs. Bucarelli, introduced us to the philosophical notion of the absurd, and fictional literary works that represent its presence in fictional work: The Myth of Sisyphus, and The Stranger, by Albert Camus were the two works that we were assigned to read in connection with the topic at hand. The two works are a good introduction to the concept of the absurd, as twentieth century authors and philosophers such as Camus and his contemporary, Jean Paul Sartre, explored it.

The Myth of Sisyphus depicts a man, Sisyphus, who is condemned to all eternity to push a heavy rock up a hill, all the while knowing that his efforts will only result in the boulder rolling back down to its point of origin where the hero must begin his efforts all over again.  The idea is that life is absurd, pointless, and yet we are condemned to try to live it, despite the inherent senselessness of it all.

My teacher noticed how easily I understood the concept of the absurd as presented in the two works in question. I myself did not think much of my innate understanding at the time. It was a no brainer type of thing, as easy as knowing that the sun rises each morning.  Fortunately, this deep understanding of the absurd at such a young age did not traumatize me, perhaps because I somehow suspected that Camus’ explanation stopped short of something.

The little something that we did not consider in our exploration of Sisyphus’ fate was the little gap at the bottom of the hill. It’s a gap of repose, of stillness, that exists before he recommences his efforts to push the boulder back up the hill, and before the rock rolls back down to its point of origin.

Now I liken that little gap to the stillness that exists within all of us in between the busy moments of our lives. It’s the part that often goes completely unnoticed, has become completely overshadowed by all of our efforts, our resistance to what is, our incessant stream of thoughts, and our information overload in the world we live in.

So, when I pause today to consider this work that I first encountered so long ago, I like to especially consider the little moment that went unappreciated by Sisyphus and perhaps by many of its readers. The little gap in the efforts of Sisyphus offers a glimmer of hope, a place of resuscitation, a doorway, which offers an opening to a place of infinite possibilities. Taking notice of the little space between all of the efforts made by Sisyphus at the bottom of the hill is the beginning point for further exploration of the freedom that exists within that space.

My Bottled Water

I bought some bottled water the other day. It tasted good to me, but I have never been one to be able to detect “yucky” tasting water.

Then I wondered about the quality of the water that I had bought: Is it actually better than the tap water I get in my house? I found a site with a wealth of information on the subject and checked it out:

The Environmental Working Group

The water that I had purchased and have been drinking for a few days received a “D.” Not so good. I’ll try another brand next time. In the meantime, it is possible to learn more about your city’s water through this organization. I plan to do so myself. Maybe my city water is better, or just as good, as any that I pay extra for in a bottle.

In the meantime, here is to our health, à votre santé! 

“Pure water is the world’s first and foremost medicine.”

~Slovakian Proverb


Wait a Minute: That’s Not Trash!

I taped a little fortune cookie to my refrigerator a few weeks ago. It says All that we are arises with our thoughts. In some parts of the world, this expression has been common knowledge for quite some time.

Modern Western science, as we know it today, has been around since the 17th century. It’s based on empirical, or measurable evidence that must conform to specific principles of reasoning known as the scientific method.

Until fairly recently, Western science has dismissed about 95-99% of all human DNA. The assumption was that the 1-5% of human DNA used in the coding of the proteins and enzymes that make up our physical bodies was the “important stuff,” and that the remaining DNA was useless. It was just plain old “junk.” Thus, it became known as junk DNA.

However, since the earlier part of the 20th century, there has been a steadfast, and now increasingly mainstream scientific community interested in the mind-body connection. Einstein and some of his contemporary colleagues paved the way for with their scientific breakthroughs in the realms of physics. As Brendan D. Murphy points out in his 2015 article, Junk DNA: Your Hyperdimensional Doorway to Transformation, their research offered a foundation with a “…microbiological framework for understanding the power of suggestion, intention, and belief …” In his article, Murphy  goes on to highlight some important research that has been done in the field since the 1980’s.

In the 1990’s, for example, the Russian group known as the Gariaev  Group, pioneered research involving DNA and structures found within languages. This groundbreaking research found that human speech patterns mimic non-coding DNA. sequences. Further, The Gariaev Group’s connects their findings involving DNA and language to explanations about why things such as hypnosis, affirmations, and autogenous training can have very powerful effects on humans (Murphy, 2015).

Then, thanks to the Gariaev group’s pioneering research in the field, scientists have had solid ground to continue exploration of the connections between “junk” DNA and human consciousness. For example, today we now know that we can re-code certain portions of our genome by activating some of our mobile DNA, thus transforming ourselves on a fundamental biological level (Murphy, 2015).

Further, the work of scientists Gennady Shipov and Burkhard Heim in the area of Torsion Field began to appear after about 2008. The theory suggests that the “soul” is, in fact, a vortex of sorts, a torsion field, existing in the vacuum of space, from which the material world was born.

The work of Cell biologist Dr. Glen Rein began to appear around the same time as that of Shipov and Heim. His research shows emotions such as anger, fear and similar emotions have the power to contract a DNA molecule, compressing it. On the other hand, emotions such as joy, gratitude and love unwind or decompress DNA exposed to them.

There is certainly abundant, additional fascinating scientific research that has been done or that is being done in the field of DNA and consciousness. Sifting through scientific jargon can be fun and rewarding, albeit time consuming. Still, there is a handy short cut to understanding all of this, and it can pop up in profound and simple little statements found in things like fortune cookies and the like. It can go something like this: All that we are arises with our thoughts.



Brendan D. Murphy. Nov. 2, 2015. Junk DNA: Your Hyperdimensional Doorway to Transformation. Retrieved from

A Quote From the Bard About Going Easy On Ourselves

I spent some time writing a blog post yesterday. I wrote it up, and edited again, and again, and then again, and still some more after that. I just couldn’t come around to liking what I had written down on the page.

Then in came my inner critique:

What a waste of time.

 Why does it take me so long to say something so simple?

 I’m so slow.

 And then, it occurred to me,

Merciless, I’m being merciless with myself here now, so I think I’ll take a look at what is going on, and be okay with it just as it is.

 Shakespeare reminds us as well to be merciful:

The quality of mercy is not strained;

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes

                                            Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Scene 1

The Bard does have a way with words.


The Thrill Up My Leg


I’ve suffered a great many catastrophes in my life. Most of them never happened.                                                                                                             Mark Twain

I’m sure that MSNBC news commentator Chris Matthews didn’t count on getting teased so much after having used the words thrill up his leg when referring back in 2007 to his unabashed enthusiasm for the current US President. However, sometimes words used in specific contexts, at a certain moment in time, and mixed together with other seemingly unrelated ingredients can come together and ignite something in the collective conscious. An expression is born and becomes part of the urban dictionary.

Then, gradually, the cluster of words sticks in the minds of individuals, tucked away somewhere only to reappear in an altered form, and in a different set of circumstances. It morphs into something else but, because of its catchy nature, still seems just the right fit at a particular moment in time and given a new, particular set of circumstances.

Such a thing happened to me just this morning when the expression thrill up my leg popped into my mind. As I watched myself stretch out my right leg, I became aware of the gap, the space between my thoughts.

Wow!” I thought.

That’s me… I am that.”

What in the world do I mean by that? Well, I mean that I am that, as opposed to the leg that my eyes were witnessing, or the body to which it belongs, or the thoughts that I might have had at any moment in time. I am the space that is between my thoughts. The moment was nothing less than thrilling. And then expression thrill up my leg came to my mind.

We all are that. And, the more we practice mindfulness, the more spacious we become. The more spacious we become, the more we live with the understanding that we are aware. We are awareness–infinite awareness–and not the leg, the body, the thoughts, the story that we tell ourselves we are, or the stories that others have told us, do tell us, or will tell us.

Instant Dissolve

Robert Frost’s Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening is just one of those poems that does something special for me: It takes me there, where I need to go, where I want to go. It brings me back, takes me home. How else can I put it?

I could never quite get it, really, just why I have for so long loved revisiting this poem. I especially love hearing it read aloud. During one period of my life, I would often ask someone close to me to “please read it again, pretty please.” He always graciously acquiesced:

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   


My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   


He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   


The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

Ahhh, like taking a deep, conscious breath to reconnect with your source. The magical thing about this type of experience, though, is that in the moment that we connect with the artist’s creation, we connect as well with the artist him or herself, who has gleaned something much deeper and shared it with us. Double magic.

Thanks, Robert Frost.