Welcome to this week’s Reno News & Review.
Anyone who’s read this newspaper for a while knows I’m a skeptic. Worse than that, particularly where government, money or religion are concerned, I’m kind of a cynic.
But, sometimes doesn’t it just feel like there must be something pulling the strings, that the meme is an active and sort of benevolent intelligence?
I can’t tell you how many times in the last few months I’ve said, “I don’t believe in fate, but I do believe in synchronicity.” Sometimes I get drunk and can’t remember which one I believe in. What I’m trying to say is that I’m not one of those people who believes everything happens for a reason. Usually, things happen for no reason at all. And then, there are reasons you don’t talk about. And that’s how I stay in the fight club.
Tangents aside, after I wrote about my recent disquieting diagnosis from my good pal the mainstream physician, the confluence of seemingly random events coming into alignment was mindboggling. Suddenly, all these people—many of whom I had no idea of their interest in alternative methods of healing—started coming out of the woodwork, trying to help me with real advice. These weren’t some wild-eyed true believers, just friends who’d had family members who had learned some stuff. It’s all helpful. It’s all good. (And for a change, no sarcasm intended.)
Honestly, just as peculiar are the people who think that an admission of heart disease is some kind of a weakness. I saw somewhere that half of all people 35 and older have some form of heart disease, so you’ve got it too, bunky. So, no, my stress level is still unimportant to me. I am still pushing my heart rate as high as I can make it go on the elliptical machine. It is not my intention to leave a good looking corpse. I hope to leave one that looks like I almost—almost—survived being dragged by my stirrup through a buffalo stampede.