Saturday, November 2, 2013

Evidence-based Review of Neuromodulaton Treatments in CRPS: A Crisis of Data, A Crisis of Faith

This is an odd and interesting article.  It's honest and, to my understanding of things, a fair assessment of where we are at in available, actual CRPS neuromodulation treatments, of which I am not a fan, awaiting, like many, some evidence.  This is a kind of rubber-meets-the-road piece, beginning and ending with the usual lament of LACK OF EVIDENCE.  Clearly, it's going to be a long while before evidence-based practices will be scientifically established for this God-forsaken disease.  The full text is available in's excellent research library, and you can access it (and download it) HERE.

Neuromodulation: Technology at the Neural Interface
( DOI: 10.1111/j.1525-1403.2012.00531.x

Evidence-Based Review of
Neuromodulation for Complex
Regional Pain Syndrome:
A Conflict Between Faith
and Science?

While it was more than 20 years ago, I remember well the face of
a 19-year-old woman who presented to me with what was then
called reflex sympathetic dystrophy (RSD). Having sustained an
innocuous injury during gymnastics practice four years earlier,
Susan developed discoloration, swelling, and severe burning pain in
her foot and leg. Aggressive rehabilitation therapy, pharmacotherapy,
and even sympathectomy had failed to improve her symptoms.
A trial of spinal cord stimulation (SCS) was highly successful
and a permanent system was implanted with complete relief of her
pain and resolution of her symptoms. Most memorable to me was
that she returned seven years later, symptom free, requesting that
her stimulator be removed prior to her planned pregnancy. The
smile on her face as she held her newborn child was the only testament
that I needed to convincemyself of the efficacy of SCS for RSD.
Since that time, I have had many successes and more than a few
failures of SCS for what is now known as complex regional pain
syndrome (CRPS). We have developed new stimulation techniques,
including high-frequency and intraspinal nerve root stimulation, to
rescue the therapy in patients who were no longer obtaining relief.
Nonetheless, I remained a strong believer in the value of SCS for
CRPS, both due to my personal anecdotal experience and the
support of at least one randomized, controlled clinical trial (1).
CRPS is characterized by continuous, intense pain out of proportion
to the severity of an injury, if any has been identified, which
tends to get worse over time. Typical features include changes in
color and temperature of the affected limb(s) accompanied by
intense burning pain, skin sensitivity, sweating, and swelling (2).
CRPS type I occurs in the setting of a soft tissue injury, while CRPS
type II develops following nerve injury. Of particular note is that
neuromodulation therapies are widely considered to be valuable
therapies for medically refractory CRPS. In fact, the website of the
National Institute of Neurologic Diseases and Stroke states that
“Spinal cord stimulation. . .appears to help many patients with their
pain” and that “Intrathecal drug pump. . .decreases side effects and
increases drug effectiveness” (Figs. 1 and 2) (2).
It was with this mindset that I approached a recent satellite conference
of the International Association of the Study of Pain (IASP)
Meeting in Milan, Italy. Organized by Drs. Joshua Prager, Michael
Stanton-Hicks, and Candy McCabe, “A Comprehensive Analysis of
CRPS Treatment: The New, The Old,WhatWorks and What Doesn’t—
Updating the Treatment Algorithm” was an IASP Pain and Sympathetic
Nervous System Special Interest Group symposium and CRPS
guidelines update meeting (Figs. 3–5).
With the participation of such august clinicians and neuroscientists
as Ralf Baron, Frank Huygen, Srinivasa Raja, and J.J. Van Hilten,
to name a few, this conference promised to be critically important
for the direction of CRPS research and therapy for many years to
come. I was honored to have been invited to critically review and
present the data supporting neuromodulation therapies for CRPS.
In performing a formal, evidence-based review of the literature, I
expected that an objective and impartial evaluation would fully
support my strongly held personal beliefs of the efficacy of neuromodulation
therapies for CRPS. Suffice it to say that my faith was

seriously challenged.

[He goes on to do an evidence-based review of neuromodulation modalities in treating CRPS, in each case coming up with insufficient, or no, satisfactory studies to support evidence-based conclusions]












I come back to the subtitle of this article: a conflict between faith
and science. I have great personal faith that in carefully selected
patients, neurostimulation and ITDD can be effective treatments for
the pain and spasticity related to CRPS. To be completely honest, I
also have great faith that in some patients, neuromodulation helps
neither of these CRPS symptoms. However, we are left with a gap
between our faith and our science. I routinely recommend that we
assess our therapies with the same critical eye as those who do not
believe in the effectiveness of neuromodulation therapies. Those of
us immersed in the field of neuromodulation often look askance at
the literature supporting sympathectomy for CRPS; however, we
have seen that the literature support for both interventions is seriously
While a lack of evidence is not a lack of effectiveness, it remains
a lack of evidence. When our patients, our society, and our reimbursement
systems all demand evidence-based support of our
clinical practice, we cannot ignore the fact that there is inadequate
evidence to highly recommend most neuromodulation therapies
for CRPS. Some issues cannot be scientifically proven, and in those
cases we must rely upon our faith for guidance. The efficacy of
neuromodulation therapies for CRPS is, however, something that
can be proven or disproven. We have come a long way toward this
goal over the past decade, but we have much more to do. External
funding agencies, including the National Institutes of Health, have
expressed a renewed interest in supporting comparative outcomes
and cost-effectiveness research. By taking advantage of
these opportunities and supporting properly designed, carefully
executed studies, we can finally answer these questions and
improve the effectiveness of chronic pain therapy.
Robert M. Levy, MD, PhD


Friday, November 1, 2013

Last Stand at Fukushima (Hat tip to TW)

Last Stand at Fukushima

My Brother-Unit TW is doing his damnedest to inform and cajole people into awareness of the Fukushima plant's Number Four Unit and the plans to just kinda yank those spent rods out.  From what this Luddite gathers, the spent rods are sitting somewhat strangely in the water... oh, and that water?   The condition of its all important neutron absorbers is basically unknown.

So maybe this is not another in that famous series of "What, me worry?" scenarios we keep dramatizing in matters concerning our home planet and our nuclear proficiencies.

I'm as ignorant as the next fool, so TW is teaching me lots, and yes, scaring me.  What's a brother for?

No, seriously.  What's a brother for?  [TW and Grader Boob:  Insert one wink, one nod, one finger aside the nose.]

So I pass on to you some of the informative links he's posted over at American Idyll, an amazing place. And as does that blogger, we at Marlinspike Hall, a nuclear free zone, serenade you with "Morning Dew," though we've sinned by replacing the Grateful Dead cover with The Jeff Beck Group (1968).

Not feeling like doing much reading? Here's the steno version, then:

Tepco continues to pour more water onto the proximate site of three melted reactor cores it must somehow keep cool.Steam plumes indicate fission may still be going on somewhere underground. But nobody knows exactly where those cores actually are.
Much of that irradiated water now sits in roughly a thousand huge but fragile tanks that have been quickly assembled and strewn around the site. Many are already leaking. All could shatter in the next earthquake, releasing thousands of tons of permanent poisons into the Pacific.
The water flowing through the site is also undermining the remnant structures at Fukushima, including the one supporting the fuel pool at Unit Four.
More than 6,000 fuel assemblies now sit in a common pool just 50 meters from Unit Four. Some contain plutonium. The pool has no containment over it. It’s vulnerable to loss of coolant, the collapse of a nearby building, another earthquake, another tsunami and more.
Overall, more than 11,000 fuel assemblies are scattered around the Fukushima site. According to long-time expert and former Department of Energy official Robert Alvarez, there is more than 85 times as much lethal cesium on site as was released at Chernobyl
 --Harvey Wasserman
Global Research, 9/20/13

Fukushima Forever
Fukushima Daiichi nuclear disaster
Fukushima Fallout Awareness Network (FFAN)
A Letter to All Young Athletes Who Dream of Coming to Tokyo in 2020:  Some Facts You Should Know About Fukushima
Webcast Portal:   ‘The Medical and Ecological Consequences of the Fukushima Nuclear Accident,’ held at the New York Academy of Medicine, NYC, March 11 & 12, 2013, co-sponsored by The Helen Caldicott Foundation and Physicians for Social Responsibility.
MoveOn Petition: The World Community Must Take Charge at Fukushima
Breaking Energy News


Walk me out in the morning dew my honey,
Walk me out in the morning dew today.
I can't walk you out in the morning dew my honey,
I can't walk you out in the morning dew today.

I thought I heard a baby cry this morning,
I thought I heard a baby cry this today.
You didn't hear no baby cry this morning,
You didn't hear no baby cry today.

Where have all the people gone my honey,
Where have all the people gone today.
There's no need for you to be worrying about all those people,
You never see those people anyway.

I thought I heard a young man morn this morning,
I thought I heard a young man morn today.
I thought I heard a young man morn this morning,
I can't walk you out in the morning dew today.

Walk me out in the morning dew my honey,
Walk me out in the morning dew today.
Ill walk you out in the morning dew my honey,
I guess it doesnt't't really matter anyway,
I guess it doesnt't't matter anyway,
I guess it doesnt't't matter anyway,
Guess it doesnt't't matter anyway.

(or whoever the hell actually wrote it....)

Let's close, my brethren, with  Laurie Anderson, with balm and condolences to her on the death of her husband, Lou Reed.

["Lou was a tai chi master and spent his last days here being happy and dazzled by the beauty and power and softness of nature," Anderson wrote. "He died on Sunday morning looking at the trees and doing the famous 21 form of tai chi with just his musician hands moving through the air."]

The musical association is again stolen from mi hermano...

Mi hermano y yo... somos.  

© 2013 L. Ryan

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Reworked Prose: I Blame Herzl

In January 2009, I wrote a prose post entitled "I blame Herzl." It was a lame attempt to engage.  I decided that I ought to do the same, having advanced so much these past four years, but now in poetry.  Pristine logic, plus, this time, there's food. The remarkable painting is by Erez Vaxman.

Sunday Chowder: I Blame Herzl
I made fish chowder
and then we said
these things:
"Do the right wing bigots
really think that leftist assholes
cannot distinguish between Hamas
and the deserving
-- overarching --
Question of Palestine?"
I wouldn't deign to waste
time proposing an inanity
such as Israel
not having the right
to self-determination,
or to exist.

Israel is the King
of de facto
of annexation,
so what would be
the point?
Haddock and cod.
Five Idaho potatoes.
Four celery stalks.
Israel is,
de facto.
May Palestine eventually be,
de jure.
I blame those peacenik
Ottomans, those opium-toking
he-went-that-a-way Turks.
And the oh-so-benign,
not-to-mention secret
I blame the Lame League.
A nutty garlic butter roux.
Six carrots.
One huge onion.
I would link up 
with some of these right
wing bigoted commentaries,
but then I would have to pretend
to want
to debate. 
("Typical left-wing amour propre!"
"Yeah, well, still better
than their queer robes
of purple armor.")
Beware such winning
and unconsidered repartee!
I gotta stop smoking
that wacky tobacky.
Corn, golden, sweet.
Okra, properly done.
Dried slices of poblano peppers.
These are tragic times.
Those of us not being bombed
or doing the bombing,
let's not subvert the causes
of deserving peoples
because we lack the mental
agility to dissect the issues,
that is, if we even understand them.
I sure don't.
Kosher salt.                 (Taste, taste, taste!)
Huge amounts of fresh ground pepper.
I am swayed by the passions
of individual Israelis and Palestinians
and want to planify discrepancy.
I belong in a home for the feeble-mindedly optimistic.
It should be my job to wash and dress the dead,
then bury them -- in accordance to the prevailing customs.
Winds. Incoming missiles. Available space, and clergy.
Fresh dill.
Cream (not much).
Obviously, competing intransigence
is a waste of the world's time --
backing one or the other
purely smacks.
We all know the answer lies
in the two-state solution --
in which Hamas can play no role.
So am I to support the occupation
of Gaza in the hopes that when the bullets cease,
Hamas will {poof} be gone?
If not Hamas, who will see
to the trapped 1.5 million Gazans? 
Your knife skills are key:
Small, even dices.
Be more generous when cubing the fish.
The desperation of the Gazans does not resonate in the breast of Mahmoud Abbas.
When the League of Nations
had the brilliant idea to divide
and to screw the Palestinians
by means of that ever-buggering British Rule
-- the Mandatory Power that was to be
provisory, transitory,
and every other meaningful -ory --
the world chose not to take notice.
When we deigned to glance        
we saw Arafat in fatigues,
sporting a weapon
before the United
It was all rather confusing.
A light fish stock.
Thai fish sauce (but don't tell anyone).
Organic bitter baby greens at the last minute.
And so we have see-sawed back 
and forth through the decades.
The one thing that I have learned
in my in-depth, spirited
study of world
There has to be someone to blame.
As always, the mise en place is key.
Build the flavors; Do not forget to taste, taste, taste.
Finish with one tablespoon of butter.
I blame Theodor Herzl for not having settled on Brazil.

© 2013 L. Ryan

A Day In The Life: Monkey Gland Sauce

Life in a Wheelchair                     

© L. Ryan, All rights reserved
Written July 12, saved for this rainy day.

"this, too, shall pass," opines the man who will ultimately pocket my co-pay.  i want to ask whether i could get some non-biblical, less aphoristic comfort if i paid, say, an extra ten bucks.

"nancy will help you check out and schedule your next appointment," and i steel myself, waiting for it.  it comes, not because i am prescient, but because people in the people-helping killing fields cannot refrain from touching me.  he claps me on the left shoulder.

as most of you know, i don't have a left shoulder, just a mass of infected tissue and the sawed off ends of a clavicle and humerus.

a "clap" differs from a "slap," however, and so he gets a point from me for that bit of restraint. perhaps he remembered as his arm swung down, and he quickly revised the shape of his hand, cupping the palm at the last possible moment.  perhaps he remembered nothing, and that was just the fortuitous highlight of my day.

nancy is efficient.  she does not believe me when i say i do not need an appointment reminder card. my various purses, bags, organizers, and sac-like anythings-with-zippers are littered with reminder cards.  you see "organizers" there in that list, yes?  that's where the appointment goes, should i manage to get my hand to grip a pen, to shuffle the pages of my beloved red moleskine to the correct month and day.

i insult nancy, i am sure, when i leave the card on the counter.  i am equally sure that someone even ruder than myself, will wrench the memory from her mind's grasp within a quarter hour. maybe a dirty old man will ogle her smashed and quivering cleavage.

when you sit in a wheelchair, often times, you go unnoticed because unseen by the persons on the other side of service dividers -- be they counters, or shelves or desks with the added visual obstruction of a computer screen or cash register. however, some locations have customer care and check-out stations situated on an elevated platform, in which case, ironically, their line of sight is positively perfect and people in wheelchairs are no trouble to visualize, no trouble at all.

this is most often the case at a pharmacy window, and the acting party, therefore, a pharmacist.

what fred and i usually witness is a clear visual check, a thought bubble, and then a choice, the choice being to address fred, who is invariably sleepy and biding the time with ill will.  i am the person making the transaction, holding the wallet, the responsible party, but after the visual check, the thought, the choice, i clearly cannot be competent.

once that conclusion is writ in the over-the-head bubble, i used to give in.

fred and i are fans of the absurd, however, being absurdity's familiars.

the chef-jacketed pharmacist asks fred a question. fred asks me the question, loudly. i yell the answer to fred.  fred screams it at the purveyor of goods, who adopts the universal look of offended sensibility -- a slight jut to the chin, a supernatural pinch that actually whitens the bridge of a narrow snoot of a nose.  incredibly, though, the precise professional does not switch, does not become enlightened, but continues to address fred, who is awake now and having fun.

"will she be paying with cash or with a credit card?" spits the pharmacist, teeth either gnashing or clenched, it's hard to say.

"i dunno, let me find out," hollers fred.

"honey," screams fred, "will you be paying with cash or with a credit card?"

"what?" i yell.

and so on and so forth.
we savor the moment when the credit card receipt needs signing.  that affords us the opportunity for physical comedy, so that we can expand our vaudeville act.  what usually lessens the tension that otherwise might catapult me through whatever tangible barrier separates me from my pill-pushing sparring partner -- a pane of glass, usually, and a row of neti pots -- are the other customers, because you know that we bring enterprise to a screeching halt.

they're usually laughing like fools.  we try to straighten up and make our transaction as fast as possible while still being true to our principles -- these folks might just want a tube of lip balm or a condom, but one surly teen also might be picking up an antibiotic for her twelve year old kid brother who is at home, wheezing with congestion, propped up on two pillows, eating tater tots. we don't want to leave such an angry pharmacist in our wake that he mistake a sulfa drug with a first generation cephalosporin to which young benjamin is allergic, thereby murdering a mere child, who had his whole life before him.

no way, not on our account.  not on our watch.

we have other routines.   not too many, as i do not get out much.

one i particularly enjoy employs the opposite approach to the skit methods we rely on when appearing together.  fred doesn't often leave my side when we are out.  i've never asked him to stick to me like a velcro-buddy, but he does, and so serves as a buffer zone, keeping me from people who may inadvertently bump into me or touch me in some way.  the few times that we grocery shop together, though, i try to pull my weight and take on half the shopping list, carrying a basket in my lap for the herbs, rices, and dried beans.

let's say i am perusing various prepared broths, deciding just how lazy a cook i want to be, and marveling at the sodium levels in chicken stock, when a shadow looms and a voice booms:


once my heart regains its normal rhythm, i turn the chair to face them, and whisper in the smallest of all possible whispers, "no thank you, i don't need any help." and then beam at them, making sure my cheeks are as rosy apples but my eyes, crossed.  on a good day, i work up a smidgen of froth that hangs from the corner of my mouth.
sometimes it goes on and on, as they then proceed to decide what it is i want.  no kidding! whatever it is they choose to plunk into my basket, it comes from the tip top shelf, is usually dusty and sports three different pricing labels.

i whisper something, maybe a line from my fair lady:   "I've a right to sell flowers if I keep off the kerb."

my strange helpmate will assume an expression of profound gratitude has slipped through my foaming vocal cords, and continue in the dance of code, proffering a goddamned slap on the shoulder and a screeching, "YOU'RE WELCOME, OF COURSE.  NOW DON'T YOU EVER, EVER GIVE UP BECAUSE GOD LOVES YOU."

a few minutes later, fred will spot me in the aisle, come to consolidate my basket with his full-sized grocery cart, and ask, bemused -- but in a voice of normal volume -- "what exactly, are you planning to do with monkey gland sauce?"

Author notes

please excuse my lack of caps, the moments of ear-bursting yowls excepted, of course.

Engineered Toxin in the Pipeline as Treatment for Chronic Neuopathic Pain

 MRC Laboratory of Molecular Biology, Cambridge,United Kingdom
 School of Life Sciences, University of Lincoln, Lincoln, United Kingdom
§ Istituto di Neuroscienze, Consiglio Nazionale delle Ricerche, Pisa, Italy
 National Institute for Biological Standard and Control, Health Protection Agency, Potters Bar, United Kingdom
 Department of Cell and Developmental Biology,University College London, London, United Kingdom
# School of Medicine, Pharmacy and Health, University of Durham, Stockton on Tees, United Kingdom
 Department of Pharmacology, University of Cambridge, Cambridge, United Kingdom
 The Queensland Brain Institute, University of Queensland, St Lucia, Australia
 London Research Institute, Cancer Research U.K., London, United Kingdom
 Department of Anaesthesia, Addenbrooke’s Hospital, Cambridge, United Kingdom
 Department of Biomedical Sciences, University of Sheffield, Sheffield, United Kingdom
Bioconjugate Chem.201324 (10), pp 1750–1759
DOI: 10.1021/bc4003103
Publication Date (Web): September 6, 2013
Copyright © 2013 American Chemical Society
*E-Mail:; Tel.: +44-114-2225111.

ABSTRACTClostridial neurotoxins reversibly block neuronal communication for weeks and months. While these proteolytic neurotoxins hold great promise for clinical applications and the investigation of brain function, their paralytic activity at neuromuscular junctions is a stumbling block. To redirect the clostridial activity to neuronal populations other than motor neurons, we used a new self-assembling method to combine the botulinum type A protease with the tetanus binding domain, which natively targets central neurons. The two parts were produced separately and then assembled in a site-specific way using a newly introduced ‘protein stapling’ technology. Atomic force microscopy imaging revealed dumbbell shaped particles which measure 23 nm. The stapled chimera inhibited mechanical hypersensitivity in a rat model of inflammatory pain without causing either flaccid or spastic paralysis. Moreover, the synthetic clostridial molecule was able to block neuronal activity in a defined area of visual cortex. Overall, we provide the first evidence that the protein stapling technology allows assembly of distinct proteins yielding new biomedical properties.


Scientists have manufactured a new bio-therapeutic molecule that could be used to treat neurological disorders such as chronic pain and epilepsy.

A team of 22 scientists from 11 research institutes, including Dr Enrico Ferrari from the University of Lincoln, UK, created and characterised a new molecule that was able to alleviate hypersensitivity to inflammatory pain. 

The work is featured on the cover of the October 2013 issue of the scientific journal Bioconjugate Chemistry.

Dr Ferrari joined the School of Life Sciences in October last year from the Medical Research Council’s Laboratory of Molecular Biology in Cambridge, where he took part in the development of a new way of joining and rebuilding molecules in the research group of Professor Bazbek Davletov - now at the University of Sheffield.

Now, by separating elements of clostridium botulinum and clostridium tetani neurotoxins, commonly known as Botox and tetanus toxin respectively, the scientists were able to develop a model to re-join the molecule proteins yielding new biomedical properties, without unwanted toxic effects. 

While the Botox element is able to block neuronal communication – and therefore pain signals - for months, the tetanus component targets the engineered toxin to the central nervous system, rather than stopping at exterior neurons that are the normal target of Botox. The combination of the two effects is of great interest for neuroscience and can be applied to the treatment of several neurological disorders, particularly chronic pain conditions.

Botox and tetanus neurotoxins hold great promise for clinical applications, but since they are the most lethal proteins known to man, their paralytic activity was a stumbling block until now.

Dr Ferrari, who is one of the lead authors of the study, said: “The toxins were split into parts so they were unable to function. Then later they were reassembled using a ‘zipping’ system so they can operate in a safe way. The re-engineered chimera toxin has very similar characteristics to Botox and is still able to block neurotransmission release, but the paralytic effect is a lot less. We then added a tetanus molecule which targets the chimera to where the pain signals travel towards the central nervous system.”

Preliminary data on animal models has now been collated at University College London and future clinical trials are expected to fully characterise the new bio-therapeutic.

Dr Ferrari added: “Many painkillers relieve the pain temporarily and have various side effects. The selling point of this molecule is that the pain relief could last up to seven months, in a similar way that Botox injections for removing wrinkles last for several months. Engineering this kind of toxin has many uses and would be a major improvement in the quality of life for those people who suffer from chronic pain. It is very exciting to know that a protein you made could be one of the future drug treatments.”

The crux of Dr Ferrari’s research is now aimed at creating a method where more than two protein elements can be combined together and their exact order dictated, which will open up further avenues to explore possible medical uses in the future.

Synthetic Self-Assembling Clostridial Chimera for Modulation of Sensory Functions in Bioconjugate Chemistry, DOI: 10.1021/bc4003103

© 2013 L. Ryan

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

To my frequent visitor looking for CRPS treatment in Florida...

To Whomever Keeps Visiting This Blog In Search Of "doctors who treat CRPS with Ketamine in Florida":

You live in the state that has the ONLY treatment and research facility in the United States entirely dedicated to CRPS / RSD, and whose director is one of the leading practitioners and researchers of ketamine therapy!

Please visit Dr. Anthony Kirkpatrick's website: RSD / CRPS Treatment Center and Research Institute

Best of luck to you!

© 2013 L. Ryan

Monday, October 28, 2013

Stolen from "Du Tout et Du Rien," who ripped it off from...

Because it was what I needed to read, I found it.  In French.  A closer inspection reveals that it was translated from its original English -- and first published HERE.

Weirdly, I prefer the translation...

and the owl.

I may not like the piece tomorrow...

but I will still like the owl.


Il existe différents niveaux d'éveil. Il est rare que quelqu'un «se secoue» simplement  hors du rêve sans quelques morceaux résiduels de l'ego laissés pour compte. Dernièrement, ma conscience est allée se concentrer sur un morceau auquel beaucoup tiennent, même sans le savoir. La part de moi qui dit, "vous ne devriez pas être ainsi" ou "vous ne devriez pas agir de cette façon". Vous pouvez voir cela partout. Cela fait partie de ce qui crée le drame humain.

La vraie liberté ne peut arriver tant que vous ne donnez pas aux autres la liberté d'être qui ils sont. Laissez leur la place. Acceptez-les pour ce qu'ils sont. Si vous ne leur permettez pas d'être qui ils sont il y a une résistance à ce qui est.

L’éveil complet inclut de sortir de cette résistance. C’est permettre à tout (et tout le monde) d’être ce qu'il est. Cela ne veut pas dire que vous serez toujours d'accord avec eux, ou même que vous les aimerez, mais vous pouvez les accepter. Permettez.

Cela est aussi vrai pour nous-mêmes. Par exemple, peut-être méditez-vous et vous sentez-vous frustré parce que votre esprit ne se calme pas. Qu'arriverait-il si vous en veniez à vous permettre d'être comme vous êtes, l'esprit occupé et tout le reste? Qu'arriverait-il si vous vous acceptiez comme vous êtes, au lieu d'essayer de vous améliorer, vous changer ou vous résister? Au lieu de cela, laissez-vous juste être comme vous êtes. Faites-en votre pratique. Laissez vous-et-eux- être comme vous-et-eux sont. Il s’agit non seulement de  permettre à la réalité d'être comme elle est, mais de vous amener en un lieu de présence.

Un lieu de véritable liberté.

Profitez de la beauté.


Sunday, October 27, 2013

testing the reanimated flip video camera: sunday nothings

this is truly a nothing day.  there is some relief of responsibility on my one shoulder, as everyone in marlinspike hall seems to have taken a day... off.  lots of snoozing going on, with bad scary movies in the background.

the flip video camera is in halloween mode -- as the reanimated device. i don't trust it.  so i've been filming nonsense to test its seriousness.

first up, we've buddy, dobby, and the fredster, playing with a : tea light he picked up at the dollar store. don't ask me why.  he muttered something about "romance" just before complaining about his ear hurting again, and falling deeply into an oblivious snore. just before his dive into unconsciousness, i was the party pooper, pointing out buddy's proclivity for biting into things, and not being a fan of documenting feline electrocutions.

and a red-glittered flickering light bulb of a "tea light" has never really done it for me.

next we have an exciting visit with dobby from earlier in the day. he's been the object of "territorial" attacks from buddy, so that's why he is looking obsessively to the doorway.  why he suddenly decided to flop down for a belly-rub, i dunno.  the final shot was all his idea, and is his way of getting me to turn off the camera, of which he is always very aware. dobby misses very little.

my deepest apologies to those of you looking for cinematic masterpieces.

i hope your sunday was as unproductive as mine.

oh, the absence of marmy fluffy butt has to do, in part, with the purchase of a new living room rug, to which she is oddly attached.  in the rhetorical sense.  she is also fond of one of the new chenille throws i bought to replace her rattier one.  and then there's the truth... she and buddy can't share the same space, at least not this space (the bed), without the maine coon defending his "territory" with scary ferocity.

it's a problem.

© 2013 L. Ryan