Harmony Is Strength
Ten days ago, I opened up my mailbox and found what looked like “real mail.” It was a rather-fat #10 envelope, neatly addressed with human handwriting (printing, actually) and a first-class stamp. My full name and address were there, but, curiously, there was no return address. It was postmarked May 19: Santa Ana, California.
I excitedly opened it up, thinking that, perhaps, some friend had taken the time to write me a letter – even though I didn’t think I knew anyone in Santa Ana. (But: who gets real mail these days!? What a treat!)
Well, such was not the case.
What I found was a folded-up four-page newsprint “article” (a newspaper insert, one corner identified it as the Weekly Journal, labeled “advertisement” at the top center of the page) describing a commercial herbal mixture called “Cho-Wa.” At the top of the first page, there was more handwriting, saying simply:
James,
Check it out!
J
Or at least I think it was signed “J.” I’m not totally sure. (Maybe it was a “T?”)
So, I’m thinking: what’s going on here? And, who calls me James?
I was curious enough to read the entire article, though, which purported to document the profound health benefits of an ancient Japanese herbal mixture designed to enhance “ki,” or “life force.” (Also known as “vital energy” or “spiritual energy.” The Chinese word is “qi” – pronounced “chee” – and I’ve written about this concept before, here and here.)
(I subsequently found the full text of this article online…click here if you’re interested.)
Since every visit I’ve ever had with a practitioner of Traditional Chinese Medicine has assessed me as “qi deficient,” I naturally paid close attention to this article. Of course, it was an advertisement for a product, and offered up practically miraculous stories of restoration.
And, I continued to wonder: who the heck sent this to me?
After thinking about it some, I went to the website listed and ordered a month’s supply, though. What could it hurt? I’m already taking a variety of supplements, and, over time, have experimented with a wide spectrum of natural products in order to find assistance for what ails me.
A few days later, the product arrived. It was slickly packaged and professionally invoiced. The box of 30 individual packets came with a little 10-page instruction book entitled “How to Experience Cho-Wa. Harmony is Strength.” It advises the user to set up a regular ritual to take the product, setting aside about 15 minutes a day to stir the packet contents into 6 ounces of cool water and then very slowly sip the mixture. As it takes some time to dissolve the powder into the water, the advice is to “simply continue stirring and go deeper into your awareness of the present moment.”
It’s all very Zen-like.
I’m on my third day of taking this formula now. And there’s not much new to report with respect to my physical well-being yet.
But I’ve continued to be curious about how I got this letter; so today I did some research on the web. Apparently, the letter did not come from anyone I know…this appears to be a “marketing technique.” Some even claim that it’s a total scam, aimed at “a demographic pre-disposed to … poor judgment with respect to mass marketing ploys: the elderly.”
Ah, so.
Well, it apparently works. I guess this old fart still believes in the Fountain of Youth, and am willing to follow anyone who claims that it really exists.
Silly, naïve, me.
Soundtrack Suggestion
Live a life less ordinary
Live a life extraordinary with me
Live a life less sedentary
Live a life evolutionary with me
Well I hate to be a bother,
But it’s you and there’s no other, I do believe
You can call me naïve but...
I know me very well (at least as far as I can tell)
And I know what I need ...
(“Life Less Ordinary” – Carbon Leaf)
The Country Fair
I know this has been a three-day holiday, but it really didn’t seem that way to me. Last Friday was the final day of the semester: the end of the school year. Somehow, I made it through a full academic season here in Marin, though the end product was one tuckered-out academic dean. I basically sleep-walked through this weekend. Man oh man, am I worn out!
Because of the itinerant nature of my professional existence these last four years, I really haven’t had much opportunity for time off (other than moving from one city to the next) – and certainly very limited chances for “vacation.” Surely, this has contributed to my overall fatigue level. One of the (very) few things I did this weekend was to actually put some thought into what I might do during some time off this summer. Given that I haven’t made any plans yet, I’m thinking that maybe my best bet would be to keep things really low key and not try to exhaust myself with any kind of ambitious travel.
What about the Oregon Country Fair?!
Yes, I could use a fun getaway in July to attend this raucous (well, not as much as it used to be) event and to see some old friends. I’m hoping I can make this happen…
If I Don’t See You Again
The power of music, whether joyous or cathartic, must steal on one unawares, come spontaneously as a blessing or a grace…
(Oliver Sacks, p. 299, Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain)
I have satellite radio in my car.
Siriusly.
When I purchased my new Subaru last summer, the availability of this add-on was just too enticing to pass up. So, now, I almost always have my radio tuned to satellite rather than listening to FM, AM, CD or my iPod. Sirius Channel 6, devoted to tunes of the 60s, is where my dial is typically set.
Last week, while driving off-campus for lunch one day, the DJ on Channel 6 announced that Channel 3 is currently (and temporarily) assigned entirely, 24/7, to Neil Diamond music. Now I’m aware that Elvis (Channel 13), Jimmy Buffet (Channel 31), and the Grateful Dead (Channel 32), all have their own exclusive Sirius channels, but I thought to myself: Neil Diamond? Really? (Why not the Beatles!?)
Well, anyway, I was intrigued. Neil Diamond has always pretty much been a favorite of mine. I still remember quite vividly seeing him in concert on February 27, 1971, at Gill Coliseum in Corvallis, Oregon. At the time, I was a long-haired, bearded lad of 23, in my first year of grad school at Oregon State University. (And Neil Diamond had just turned 30 the month before…it’s amazing what you can find out on the internet if you just poke around a little.) Margaret and I had great seats, somewhere in the first ten rows, if I recall correctly. Toward the end of the concert he introduced and sang a new song that he said was going to be released soon: I Am … I Said.
I am, I said
To no one there
And no one heard at all
Not even the chair
I am, I cried
I am, said I
And I am lost, and I can’t even say why
Leavin’ me lonely still…
