What Type of World?

Human beings learn by contrast and opposites. We know hot by learning cold; right by learning left; up by learning down. This applies to everything we learn. The story of Covid-19 has provided a ton of lessons; not the least of which is how not to be. It’s given us a long look at the ugly side of human nature; as proven by fear mongering and corruption by big business and government; and the weak side, too, as evidenced by the majority of persons who hope that someone else will speak up and defend our precious freedoms while we sit comfortably on couches, staring at the news, the latest count, and praying that someone somewhere deems it safe for us to take off the masks that hide our humanity. Brave heart? Not even close. According to stereotype, spiritual beings are supposed to calm, meek, and mild–what utter nonsense! Bring on the spiritual fire.

So, the title of this article: What type of world? Through Covid-19, we’ve learned–via the contrast mentioned above–a few lessons about a side of human beings that we might prefer to leave in the dark. We’ve seen that we are willing to play the role of good little followers even when every neuron of our intellect was firing repeated warnings about what was being spread via the media. We’ve sacrificed our innermost feelings about important issues–such as ensuring health care for persons with real health issues; deprived ourselves of visits with family and friends who were feeling lonely and isolated; and forfeited healthful activitities in an effort to help. For what? The story, itself, is not even in question; for deep down we realize it is a disgusting farce that has been played on the masses. Everyone knows this. Symptoms, in 99% of the cases, are very mild and reported as such! Our intuition has been screaming the truth at us since the first months of subjugation–the six-foot rule, social bubbles, plexiglass walls, the masks, and threats of manditory vaccination. But we–the Beings who comprise the world–don’t want to ruffle any feathers. No, that wouldn’t be polite; and if we disagreed–or worse yet, walked the wrong way up a one-way aisle–it might draw attention. Instead, a part of us that we don’t like to face, watches gleefully from the sidelines as our brothers and sisters fight for the rights that used to be ours.

As much as it might seem so, the point of this article is not to be negative. The point is to raise questions about what type of world we are creating. Is it free? Is it respectful of persons’ rights? (including the right to wear or not wear masks). Does it help the downtrodden, the lonely, and the weak? Is it a world in which we teach our children–by example–that we have strong immune systems and also recognize their need to play with their friends in person; not virtually, through the screen of a computer. Is it a world in which we’re free to say “no” to the overuse of alcholol sanitizer, which has been proven to decrease immunity? Or is the world we’re trying to save one in which we behave like good little sheep, praying that the wolf won’t come and eat us. You know, the type of world in which couples say, “Now, Dear, when it comes to the vacinne, please don’t be the first to take it. Let health professionals test it on a few thousand others, to see if they go blind or grow a third eye.” We might ask ourselves if the second type of world–one devoid of love, touch, comraderie, and honest caring–would really be worth saving. If that’s the case, I vote “No”–as long as I still have a right to vote.

Is there something positive that can be reaped from all of this? Yes. When we recognize our weaknesses, we can begin to transcend them. With that intention, I offer a few inspirational lines from The Power of Awareness by Neville Goddard, a modern-day mystic who lectured and wrote books in the 60’s and 70’s: “You give beauty for ashes when you concentrate your attention on things as you would like them to be rather than on things as they are. You give joy for mourning when you maintain a joyous attitude regardless of unfavourable circumstances. You give praise for the spirit of heaviness when you maintain a confident attitude instead of succumbing to despondency.” Perhaps the key to coping with the current world situation is to notice what is happening and unite with one another in honest positive action. Hiding our shame beneath masks isn’t working.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Copyright © – 2020–R. Arthur Russell

P.S. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones–released September 8, 2020) please press here. Thanks for reading!

Dr. Phuphuey Makes a Housecall

Dr. Phuphuey Makes a Housecall

Note: The names of the persons directly involved in the following account have been changed to protect their right to privacy, as guaranteed (okay, maybe not “guaranteed,” but “implied”) under the Medical Privacy Act of 1923, as first instituted quid pro quo somewhere in Liechtenstein; amended in 1927, somewhere in the Nether Parts; and later modified (see attached pamplet explaining “said” modifications) somewhere over the rainbow.

***

Nurse Whatsthebigfuss knocked softly on the door to Dr. Phuphuey’s office and gently nudged it open. He was seated behind his desk, surround by a dense cloud of smoke. “What’s up?” he asked.

“It’s about Mr. Allbutgone. His wife just called; she was frantic. It seems he’s close to…hmmm.”

“To what?” asked Dr. Phuphuey. “Spill the proverbial beans.

“Ending it.” Her soft eyes showed genuine concern.

“You mean finding another doctor? Can’t say that I’d blame him. You and I both know I’m highly incompetent. Last in the class–our little secret, right?”

“No, not that,” she said; “although I agree you’re incompetent.”

“A spade a spade,” Dr. Phuphuey said, shrugging. “What then?”

“His wife thinks he’s going to commit suicide. He hasn’t left the house in months.”

A grave expression came over Dr. Phuphuey’s face, and he ground out his cigarette in the pedestal ashtray at the end of his desk. “What can we do?”

“I don’t know,” said Nurse Whatsthebigfuss. “His wife has tried to arrange for him to see someone, but he’s afraid of going to hospital for fear of catching something.”

Dr. Phuphuey had heard similar concerns from his colleagues; and the ones who had attempted to repute the validity of the current world story had been threatened with loss of their licence to practice. Any dissenting content was routinely deleted from social media (to see an incident of that, press here). A figurative lightbulb became luminous above Dr. Phuphuey’s head. “Cancel the rest of the appointments,” he said authoritatively as he stood. “I’m paying Mr. Allbutgone a visit. Give me his address”

Half an hour later, Dr. Phuphuey was rapping softly on the front door of the Allbutgone’s residence. His wife, looking worn beyond words, greeted him. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said. “I’m Helen.” She led him into the entrance and then pointed to the livingroom. There on couch, with his two children on either side of him, was Mr. Allbutgone. He was gaunt, pale, and visibly shaking–staring at a seventy-five inch T.V. on the opposite wall. Despite being in their own home, all three were were wearing masks.

“He’s barely left that position in the last three months,” said Helen. “Ever since we were forced to shut down our business.”

“Can you sneak the children into another room?” Dr. Phuphuey whispered.

“I can try,” Helen said. “C’mon, kids,” she said, entering the livingroom, “let’s go read a book and give your father a little time alone.” The children responded and followed their mother to another part of the house.

“John…” Dr. Phuphuey said softly as he stepped into the living room. “It’s Dr. Phuphuey. You can call me Phil.”

John turned toward him. His eyes were hollow; bare orbits devoid of life or spark.

“Can I turn off the TV, so that we can hear each other?”

John rallied, as though defending the rights of a dear friend. “I’d prefer that you didn’t,” he said. “I HAVE TO KNOW what’s going on–to know when it’s safe again.” His shrunken chest wracked as a stifled sob pulsed through him.

“At least turn it down, so we can chat?”

John nodded, and Dr. Phuphuey gently turned the volume all but off. He sat on the end of the couch and looked John in the eyes. “I’d like to help,” he said.

“I don’t know…how…you can,” said John. His lips were quivering, and his hand was nervously brushing his forehead. “The world has gone to hell, and I don’t know what to do. They tell me there’s this bug…and now there’s riots…and masks, and I can’t even visit my friends anymore, or my parents in the nursing home. My business–of twenty-two years–was a great success until they forced me to close my doors.”

“Who is they?” asked Dr. Phuphuey.

“You know,” said John, pointing to the T.V.–“them.”

Dr. Phuphuey nodded solemnly. “Yes,” he said, “they tell us all sorts of stuff; but at some point, maybe we have to question what they are telling us.”

“How?” asked John, his gaunt face reflecting perplexity. “How…when it’s the facts–they report.”

“Is it always the truth that they’re reporting?”

“Yes, it is! I’ve trusted them to tell me about life since I was a young boy.”

“Dr. Phuphuey’s eyes brimmed with compassion. “Yes,” he said. “A lot of people do; but maybe that’s not the case. Let me ask you this, John: If one of your dear friends was threatening to harm himself with a knife, what would you want to do to help protect him?”

John lowered his head, lost in deep thought. “Well, he said softly, “I know that I’d try to take the knife away from him; and hide any other sharp objects. Till he could get better.”

“Makes perfect sense,” said Dr. Phuphuey. “Now,” he said, pointing at the T.V., we might think of that as the knife. Think….just for a moment….and ask yourself what good news it has told you during the last years. Any?”

John was silent, but Dr. Phuphuey could tell that a covert search of memory was occuring. “No…come to think of it,” said John. He seemed surprised. “That’s true.”

With gentle coaxing over the next hour, Dr. Phuphuey was able to reach beyond the veneer of humanhood and touch John’s soul. He spoke lovingly and compassionately, attempting to help lift his spiritual brother. When John was finally resting in the bedroom, Dr. Phuphuey asked Helen if he could remove the offending knife from the wall. She readily agreed, and even helped him take it out to his car. After hugging Helen, Dr. Phuphuey shoved the T.V. into the back of his station wagaon, and got behind the wheel. He was shaking; too upset to smoke. He knew he had one more stop to make before returning to the office.

At the dump, Dr. Phuphuey unloaded the television and slid it into a metal container. He was about to turn, when he noticed a mother bear with a cub at the perimeter. The mother was tending to the little one. Funny, thought Dr. Phuphuey, not a mask in sight. Before starting his car, he said a silent prayer that the mother bear wouldn’t find a way of turning on the T.V.

***

Dear Readers: Please allow the spirit of kindness contained within this article to enter your hearts. We’ll get through this together; in spite of forces that are attempting to tell us the human race is doomed. N O T H I N G can deprive us of the love that we are intended to express. An hour spent helping our neighbours, as oppossed to staring at the knife attempting to cut us, will elevate our world.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Copyright © – 2020–R. Arthur Russell

P.S. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones–released September 8, 2020) please press here. Thanks for reading!

Snakes and Ladders

When I was a young child, one of the games I used to enjoy playing was a board game called Snakes and Ladders. It’s actually still available to this day. It consists of a board with horizontal squares numbered 1 to 100; beginning in the bottom left corner. The objective of the game is very simple: A player wins by being the first to land his/her gamepiece at the square marked 100. Players take turns rolling a die and advance their gamepiece accordingly. If players land on a ladder, they can scoot upward; conversely, if they land on a snake they must slither downward. So, what’s the point?

What I didn’t realize until recently is that this simple game is based on an ancient board game from India called Moksha Patam. Moksha, for those who may be unfamiliar with the term, means to be liberated from the cycle of birth and death. This occurs through enlightenment; a term which refers to the recognition of True Self (which is Spirit) and, thus, the falsity of the conceptual person. The game was originally intended to help teach basic lessons regarding morality and how to better live with one another. The ladder represents our noble qualities–such as love, compassion, kindness, generosity, and empathy. The snake represents our ignoble instincts–such as lust, greed, anger, selfishness, and hatred.

On a human–grown up–level, we can still learn many valuable lessons through analogy of our life and the game of Snakes and Ladders. It reminds us to be aware, especially with regard to our thoughts, speech, and actions; for these are building our character and, thus, creating our destiny. If we allow our life to be driven by our little egoic “i,” we are certain to lose; for a self-centered cannot help anyone win. Such will be a shallow life, to say the least; one lacking the depth and richness that ultimately makes life worth living. To truly win, we are wise to apply ourselves to helping others climb their way to success. In effect we, thereby, become the ladder for their ascension and let our life stand humbly in the background. Sweet idea, isn’t it? Even better lived.

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Copyright © – 2020–R. Arthur Russell

P.S. If you’d like to view my latest book (This Taste of Flesh and Bones–released September 8, 2020) please press here. Thanks for reading!

Remember When?

Remember When

This blog has taken a few twists and turns during the last four years. For almost two years, I published articles regarding the workings of the Law of Attraction. I hoped to inspire people to reach for their dreams; to share knowledge that could help them achieve their goals. I then gave the blog a rest, until Covid became the shameful and overwhelming story of the world. In response, I published an article on March 18th entitled We The Courageous (press here) in an attempt to offer support and help people dig down deep and face their fears about what was being reported.

Since that time, I’ve used various techniques–including articles regarding our true nature, the satirical antics of Dr. Phuphuey, and even a link to a recent peaceful protest in Trafalgar Square–that I hoped would help bring a degree of sanity to what appears to be collective insanity. Think of it: Did you ever believe that we would see a time when masks, physical distancing, and talk of social bubbles would be imposed upon the human race? And oddest of all, it doesn’t seem to make one whit of difference that the Corona Worldometer (as of today) continues to report that 99% of the cases present with mild symptoms. Nor does it make any difference when we hear of opposing opinions from respected doctors and experts in the field of immunology being silenced. Are we searching for a guarantee against death of the body? If so, we had better keep on looking.

The following is only my opinion, but it relates an example of one of the real victims of the human response to the story of “Covid.” The woman, “Dolores,” is eighty-four and lives in the retirement section of a nursing home. My friend, who provides footcare for the elderly, had visited this previously vibrant woman just prior to the implementation of restrictions in Canada in early March of this year. My friend, who recently treated Dolores for the first time in five months, told me that she noticed a significant decline; Dolores was both cognitively and physically slower. Yes, I admit, there is no proof that we can attribute all, or even part, of Dolore’s decline to being isolated from her family members. Dolores told my friend that there had been lots of phone calls; but, of course, visitations and shows of affections such as hugs and kisses from family members, had been deemed meaningless and prohibited by those who would save us. We, of course, are concerned with saving ourselves; that’s why we stand six-feet apart and don the pitiful masks that hide our humanity…even when our hearts are screaming that something smells about this whole thing.

The good news is that any further decline in Dolores, and the thousands of isolated persons like her, will not be covered by any media coverage; therefore, we won’t have to witness it. Nor will we know the accounts of thousands, if not millions, who have lost previously flourishing businesses. These silent but atrocious occurrences don’t make headlines; and they never will. It is up to us–the relatives and caring friends–to stand up for the current inhumanity that is sweeping the world. If we don’t, only egos will survive; and they aren’t worth saving. Remember when?

Dare to dream (and care for one another).

With heartfelt regards,

Art

Copyright © – 2020–R. Arthur Russell