” There is in us, an instinct for newness, for renewal, for a liberation of creative power. We see to awaken in ourselves a force which really changes our lives from within. And yet the same instinct tells us that this change is a recovery of that which is deepest, most original, most personal in ourselves. To be born again is not to become someone else, but to become ourselves” – Thomas Merton, Love and Living.

I once asked my therapist if I will ever remember the first time – the first time I was forced to endure a past life regression and tucked away into the corners of my mind. I wanted to know if I had to go back and do something to jolt my memory, and ask is this the truth or is it a lie? She, very calmly, looked over at me, and answered, “It’s not that important to remember, it’s more important to forgive yourself, to reconcile those emotions.” I had no clue what she meant.

You see, I have had no platform, no exchange of hurts, no cord to cut, to free myself from intrusive thoughts that I could shout down at my memory. I remember who you are. I can’t face you, you have no face, and I am not ready to forgive you. I don’t want to forgive you. You, who hurt me, who betrayed my trust. You are the lie looking back at me, through the looking-glass.

You made me afraid. You, who broke my heart. I always knew that someday I would see you again, because for too long I questioned if you really happened, and I know you did. I saw your shadow in the looking-glass. That frightening place, where you would like to deny the real potential of the looking-glass, the reflective element of the unspoken, one that blocks the storm that rages within you.

Did you see yourself? Did you forget when you let my heart speak, and you heard my spirit whisper for you to go away? Did you hear me? Did you look into the mirror, more than once? Or did your shadow just lay in darkness?

I don’t forgive you, and I forgive myself for it. I will stop letting you hurt me. My forgiveness belongs to me. I forgive myself for being a little defenseless child. I forgive myself for refusing to remember who you are. I forgive myself for the pain you caused me. I forgive myself as I look into the looking-glass……….because the reflection I see is me. So much is being debated, and I see my own struggle, and I reconcile my self-worth, my divine power as in the God of my understanding. That is who I see, when I look again, in the looking glass. I see me. Why is it brave when men come forward after so many years, to speak about what was done to them as little boys at the hands of that Catholic priest. No one doubts them. We are just as brave, we were young girls who were victims of an abuse we didn’t understand. Why are such events viewed differently? Does anyone have an answer? I guess I will run it by my therapist………She’ll know.


Credit: Innominate, photographer


Image for Writings

Credit: Jean Philippe-Cypres, photographer


Posture appears to dictate

be seated or stand as you wish

or somewhere in between,

perhaps the compassionate lotus position with deep breaths

will accommodate, free to think your thoughts;

as the curtain raises on the political theater

of your mind

interviews, interrogatories and the emotive sighs of a trial

simulation of democracy at work and play

for advertisers, investors, bankers and others

the deposits in accounts mount,

while platoons of soldiers fight endless wars

without meaning

save money, power, envy and blood lust.


And an underemployed college graduate

sits next to an old person and child in a cold alley

seeking a friendly, intelligible network

and eyes in a national courtroom dart sideways

listening as only a voyeur can,

while a few on the side suspected they already knew

at the gathering in the Federalist’s Society’s cloakroom,

another justice in waiting.


The hauteur from the Appalachian terrain revealed

where his horse feeds on blue grass

Old Abe was not his ancestor,

unrecognizable in a black robe

private conversations with a syrupy tongue

the fore-finger pointed toward those of a lesser God

he uttered

the poverty of the mind is self-inflicted

and ignorance is a blissful state,

yet across the street

a wanting and familiar stranger stood

with scraps tossed on the wet pavement

an inspirational, sacred metaphor misplaced

as the human is without wings.


Wash the brain with repetition

the emphatic tone of whatever the market will bear

yet an enigmatic echo in a distant cityscape

a communique sent in the middle of the night,

prudence no longer a relevant word

a democratic Republic is on private and public trial

that began yesteryear as a human thought

the ancient effects of it still exist

a provocative idea and act – without borders.


A People’s History of the United States by Howard Zinn (1980, updated edition, 2015)

My perspective: The elitism of wealth and power is like a cancer on a democracy. It fosters a meanness that eats away at the soul of humanity. The author focuses on the history of the under-privileged, women, children, slaves, native Americans, but the implication is disturbingly deeper and affects the very notion of democracy and liberty and the treatment in empty, sterile textbooks. And that is part of the problem and the point.

Whatever occurs to a few human strands of a democracy affects the entire web of human democracy. How can any man or woman be truly free when even one human being, purposefully and or from innate wickedness, is thwarted for reasons having to do with another’s wealth and power?

This is a well-reviewed book, albeit one that has achieved and maintained its somewhat controversial status since it first appeared in print almost four decades ago and updated several years ago. The author is a reputable historian. His concern – human exploitation and manipulation – since the earliest days of the country.

The story of the United States is about the history of power and money and the lengths people will go to achieve wealth and power. We the People was/is great if you are a wealthy property owner and generally of European descent. Today it generally means an elite group of wealthy and powerful and or have connections to that wealth and power. Times change, people have memories and inevitably revolt.

Though there are no footnotes the author’s bibliography is solid. Having heard him speak, Professor Zinn was a seasoned intellectual. He shows how men of wealth play poorer men and women off each other to retain their power throughout history. Has anything changed today? Records of dissent are periodically destroyed or buried if they undermine the existing order.  History is rewritten to assuage the populace and keep people in line. Is there nothing new under the sun?

Perhaps it’s time we eliminate history textbooks altogether and concentrate on what really has taken place in the United States rather than who and what state boards affect and determine what students should read as history. In other words teachers need to offer even more diverse source material beginning at a very young age – elementary school.


Image for Writings

Credit: Jean Philippe-Cypres, photographer

I drove west on the interstate under an early morning mist. I like Movement. It’s  core to my wiring, even when the liberty associated with it, may itself be a philosophical illusion. If I’m not physically moving my brain is still engaged in a movement that transcends the physical space around me. As a young man I regularly walked and bicycled both in body and spirit. Perhaps it’s the genetics of a high metabolism and the quest for a higher level of consciousness that I be closer to the earth around me. Walking or biking immediately connects my senses with the smells, odors, fragrances, noises and sounds. I know the word movement only points to a thing but is not the thing itself. Movement evolves into an experience and an awareness.

As I matured I better understood the physical and mental nature of movement –  from driving an aging sports car along the west coast and smelling the fragrances of the ocean, to riding a bullet riddled small bus across a sand encrusted terrain in the Middle East and wondering if I would make it to the next village, and being a passenger on an exotic train snaking through an Eastern European forest in winter, or experiencing a  two-mast schooner voyaging across the Gulf of Mexico and to flying in the co-pilot’s seat on a sea plane landing near an island in the Sea of Japan.  The physical experiences of movement like sitting in a lotus position and breathing in the images and exhaling the noise moves me to a higher spiritual plane.

Much of my adult life has involved trekking and voyaging across land and seascapes whether in North and Central America, Europe and Asia. Movement encapsulates the existential moment. A thought is a momentary movement in the brain and serves as a precursor to a potential act. And my ability to imagine it, is a form of movement. And I have found my vision is clearest in the midst of a mission, voyage or or pilgrimage. Quiet contains movement with each breath.

The more I traveled the more it caused me to study geography both physical geography and the geography of the mind. Maps of the ancient and Medieval worlds or present day digital ones offer insight into who we are as human beings. Cartography is a fascinating science of incredible detail – geographic, political, electronic, spatial, non-spatial, geologic, topographic, and multi-dimensional projections that allow a person to expand their senses as if being part of the map itself. Perhaps in the future artificial intelligence will allow an intensive physical participation in the map.

Mapping dates back thousands of years on clay tablets, papyrus scrolls and cave paintings depicting the night sky for clues to human meaning. To know more about her or his life and immediate surroundings, the creation of a map inspired a desire and wish to know more and explore further and experiment with varied modes of transportation. And to know about the world could inspire one to know about one’s place in it and how people, cultures and geography affect our connectedness or isolation – physically, psychologically, culturally and politically with the effect of channeling language, beliefs, rituals, myths, habits and customs.

It’s intriguing to speculate about the first human attempts at drawing the first map to get from one place to another. For some nomadic societies the journey was home itself. And, the historical record only shows what researchers know and not what they experimented with or of which they failed.  The primitive woman or man drawing a map in the sand or scratching the details on a piece of clay or writing with a dye on a papyrus to show members of his family or clan or tribe the direction to some place, recorded for the moment and not for the purpose of posterity.

Language influences how we translate movement and place. Some maps were part of oral history in the form of traditions such as literary, passed down through generations.  In a sense it’s the geography of human thought and memory. Are there other maps in enigmatic forms yet uncovered – buried hidden in some cave or tomb or site that is waiting, unearthed? Would there be some type of maps that we wouldn’t recognize as such? Which causes me to wonder. Would beings from another planet beam a map to some strategic location in a different form such as mathematical, diagrams, sounds or other visuals? Would earth’s telescopes and pieces of listening equipment already have viewed, detected or heard them – but have yet to recognize the potential numbers or images as a map?

While wondering about such things, I decided to refocus on my drive west as I glanced at the GPS or electronic map on the dashboard. The road ahead stretched towards the horizon with seemingly endless sticky black bitumen called asphalt and divided by short white median stripes that appeared as a long line depending on one’s speed. On either side of the highway were swamps, burned wooded areas, rustic barns, crooked trees and acres of corn, wheat and soybean coupled with vast fields of weeds and clumps of clay and a few coyotes camouflaged into the scene like four-legged, long-distance runners with tongues hanging out. I wondered if Earth was a cosmic aberration in design. Randomness in the universe makes its own statement.

The streets I have traveled like my sojourns retain a personality of their own. Some are dull with endless billboards, pothole ideas and crowded scenic vistas. I know the liberty offered by the highway is elusive, as satellites circle overhead and with the ubiquitous voyeur purposed camera alongside the road, attached to a tower or a vehicle  or a hand-held device. Movement is intricately linked to an elusive idea of liberty in the quest of my wayfaring mind.


Rebuilding communities affected by disaster, Shelters International Disaster Response (SIDRS) is a registered Canadian charity, and soon will have its 501(c)3.

An adventurer and humanitarian, Laura Allan has been in disaster relief for 16 years, and administered SIDRS for 9 years.

Shelters International Disaster Response – we are “a grass-roots volunteer based agency that provides permanent sustainable relief after disaster has struck – from recovery to reconstruction – empowering the local community through training.”

For more information and/or how you can help:  www.sidrs.org


NP:  How did Shelters International Disaster Response begin?  How did you become involved?

 Allan: SIDR or Shelters International Disaster Response began in Morocco in the High Atlas, a mountain range in central Morocco, North Africa. When I saw people walking 20 miles for a simple pail of water, I returned the next year and found water and installed a gravity feed system. They now only walk a mile. That showed me simple solutions were easy to implement and they changed lives.

We respond to a variety of disasters – hurricane or typhoon related disasters in the Philippines, Puerto Rico and Haiti are but a few examples of our efforts in providing a meaningful humanitarian response. Our volunteers come from all over the world including Canada and the US.

NP:   As a volunteer organization what is the motivating factors for people to volunteer their time and effort? Do volunteers pay for all their own costs including travel to disaster area, meals and housing?

Allan:  A core motivating factor indeed is humanitarian. We strive to make an immediate difference in a person’s life that also involves the opportunity to explore a different culture.

As I’m massively underfunded all volunteers kick in funds for food. I’m the president and I pay my way on all levels. Yes, of course there’s housing if it’s Haiti. Elsewhere – it’s sometimes a tent, after a disaster. One shouldn’t take the remaining homes when others obviously need shelter. Call it a solidarity thing. Plus, the locals really appreciate you are on the same level of living.

NP:  How is SIDR different from other similar organizations that provide aid and relief? Does SIDR work with other organizations to compliment the need relief work?

Allan: We are completely volunteers and there is zero salary except for nationals affected. Bigger agencies have high paid expats and stay in high-end hotels plus office and administration in home country. That eats up a huge amount of money. We empower locals by training them and they are the ones who carry it forward. On rare occasion I can’t be in two countries at once. I work with small groups who roll the same way. Volunteer driven. Zero bureaucracy and just getting it done. No weeks of meetings. Just assess the need and dive in.

NP: What are your thoughts about the future of volunteer aid and relief organizations?

Allan: Grassroots movements are the ones making long-term changes. They stay longer and integrate into the communities. They are far more in touch in what’s needed and what’s effective by far. Bigger relief organizations tend to stay in air-conditioned offices and do rare appearances in the field. They hold months of meetings with each other while people suffer. People need to research where the money goes and not be led by television or media campaigns. Look up who is working on the ground and read about their work. Smaller is better – it’s driven by love and not by a paycheque.



Image for Writings

Credit: Jean Philippe-Cypres, photographer


Quelle: The German for source, spring, well, fount, headwaters, fountainhead, origin.

A single event in life can be more enigmatic than a work of fiction. This one occurred in August of this year while engaged in researching a ghostwriting project for a person in New York City.

A distinguished older man sat on a bench under the shade of a tree in Central Park. He may have been reflecting on what to write when he looked down at the cellular phone he held in his hand and began pressing the keys with his index finger. It was the last text message he would send. Minutes later, he appeared to rest, his head tilted back, and his cellular phone dropped to the ground as a breeze stirred the leaves. A young woman walking by noticed the man and called the police.

An early forties looking detective with thin hair and brooding eyes, who I met the next day, noted the dead man was probably in his late fifties, had messy white hair and wore expensive looking cordovan cap toe boots and a grey wool blend suit with an open collar blue shirt underneath. “He didn’t look homeless…except there was no wallet, no papers. No identification on the man.” The man’s cellular phone was a dated Blackberry cellular model and displayed only one message All other names and messages were deleted, save the text to me. There was little evidence the man ever existed except for his body and the message. A baby who perhaps was once cradled in his mother’s arms he now was just another older man who died alone in the city.


The sign read detour. Driving north on I-81, I would cut over to New York City. I was to meet a man who lived in Manhattan about a writing project. I was listening to some Bach on the radio and thinking about the project while driving. I wondered how it might relate to the previous potential book I was to collaborate on in the city. I had spoken with the person for over an hour on the phone. The story seemed riddled with glitches. My initial research suggested to step back. I did.

In the western sky low hanging grey clouds caught my sight. The city was still a couple of hours away. The rain would get there sooner. According to my android phone navigator there was a Starbucks at the next exit. I exited the interstate and within five minutes found the coffee shop, parked, walked in and ordered a cup of black coffee. I looked at my phone. There were nine messages.

Click. The first three messages were sales pitches for whatever. Delete.

Click. Message four was from a former colleague now living on the east coast outside the District of Columbia. “Just checking in. Are you still alive? If you answer I’ll know one way or the other. Lol.”

I text back. “Since I’m replying to you. I am. Good to hear from you. More later.”

Click. Message five. The name and number was unavailable. Delete.

I took a sip of the coffee. Click. Message six. It was an appointment reminder from a colleague.

Click. Message seven. A politician asking me for his vote. Delete.

Click. Message eight. A fundraiser. Delete.

Click. Message nine. “Within the journey you will need to find the Quelle…so close you can see.”  Signed,  “Manhattan gentleman.”

The following day I found the bench the detective told me about, where the man was sitting. I sat down, looked around. I could see a portion of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in the distance. What else? I checked the few texts we exchanged before the last one including my jottings from our telephone conversations. Perhaps it was something else altogether. Time would tell.

*Excerpt from book Frank is currently writing, based on an actual event.


Dream Yoga – Lucid Dreaming Fall Workshops

Dear Friends,
It’s hard to believe that the summer is almost over. As the days get shorter, it is a great time to explore ways to make the most of your sleeping hours.
I am pleased to be offering two in-person dream yoga workshops this Fall, as well as a six-week online dream yoga course with Tricycle Magazine.
Dream yoga provides a profound way to turn one-third of our lives into meditation, and to have fun doing it.
Happy Dreaming,

Andrew Holechek
Upcoming Workshops
Sept 7-9, 2018 (Fri-Sun):  Dream Yoga Weekend Program,
Shambhala Mountain Center, Red Feather Lakes, Colorado
In this program, you will be introduced to both the ancient tradition of dream yoga and the modern scientific research, techniques, and technologies of lucid dream practice.
You’ll explore how to guide your dreams, and use them for personal transformation and spiritual awakening. Open to all levels.


October 29- November 4: Advanced Dream Yoga Retreat, Sedona Mago Retreat Center, Sedona, Arizona. 

From theory to practice, from science to spirituality, this program draws on the ancient wisdom of the East and the modern knowledge of the West to penetrate the mysteries of the night – and the wonders of the mind. You will come out of this program with a totally new relationship to sleep and dream, and learn how you can use every night for psychological and spiritual growth.
This is our second year offering an advanced dream yoga retreat. It went so well last year, that we have extended it to six days. Most participants have either attended one of my earlier lucid dreaming/dream yoga programs, or read my Dream Yoga book or have some knowledge about the basics of lucid dreaming.
Beautiful Sedona continues to be recognized as a place of healing and spiritual renewal. The Sedona Mago Retreat Center is nestled in the gorgeous natural scenery of the Sedona area. The retreat includes accommodations in either a private or shared casita, along with three healthy, delicious meals a day.
We still have some spaces available, so if you are interested, please register soon. Come join us and meet like-minded people while you learn about the deeper aspects of the nocturnal meditations.

Evening escape



Your boots, slacks & sweater are on a chair next to bed,

the doors unlocked & ajar,

my car, full tank of gas, keys in the visor,

is in the street.







Image for Writings

Credit: Jean Philippe-Cypres, photographer

Recently, I was asked about my philosophical approach to dying and death by a person who works in an environment that serves people whose families are unable to care for their loved ones or those who were deserted by society and exist without family or friends.

My anecdotal thoughts: practically speaking, dying and death are inevitable. Death is the cessation of all biological functions of the human body. The social aspects of death can be viewed in funeral homes and cemeteries where people pay respect while the dead person’s blood at the funeral home is drained into the sewer system. I only mention that as ancient religious rituals maintained the essence of the human soul was derived from our blood and water and therefore it might be wise to retain the blood and water in the body after death. The etymology of the English word soul is Proto-Germanic – the roots of the word mean “from the water.” In the ancient Middle East, etymological roots of soul are traced back to “blood.”

Times change as do traditions, particularly when money is involved. Soul came to mean a mist like spirit rising from the body after death and beliefs evolved with elaborate rituals depending on one’s station in life.

As soon as a person is born they begin to die. It’s a scientific law. I know much less about what happens after death. Those that think they know are working with supposition, perception, belief, faith, hope and other insights. Some ideas can be quite deep and ambiguous. Personally, I like ambiguous. The claims of life after death would seem to require substantial evidence beyond belief. Experience suggests it’s a personal event to witness. Unless one experiences it, the “it” becomes second-hand and hearsay. The ambiguity may exist in being witness to such an event. I have no physical evidence for my perceived spiritual experiences though sometimes my face may betray an enigmatic expression. Life and death remain somewhat of a mystery to me, even within and beyond the scope of inspired literature.

To appreciate the impact of my dying and death is on some level to question the meaning of my life. The meaning is also dependent on the condition of my body and mind. I experience the body and its organs I was born with, though I may change and modify the organs for whatever reason. Regardless, I remain human through my memory, internal wiring, experiences, filters, studies, interactions with others, environment and all that affects who and what I am. My life gains meaning in relation to others. Hamlet observed to his friends Rosencrantz and Guildenstern that – nothing is either good or bad but thinking makes it so. In large measure his observation appears accurate until you try to reconcile unfairness and injustice, especially applied to dying and death.

In my travels I’ve noticed the various stages of how people live and die. All humans were babies at one moment in time umbilically – biologically and emotionally – attached to their mother. Who will be nearby at the moment of their death? What happens along the way for a society to allow poverty, homelessness, slavery, abuse, starvation, purposeful victimization and other forms of violence to occur? And, am I truly free when another human being struggles to merely survive let alone die, lost to anyone’s memory?

Compassion is what isolates and surpasses the predatory in the human animal and aids in helping transcend the physical nature of our inevitable transition. And, I hope it’s the imagery of our small successes and acts of compassion that out-live our mortal coil. Within the word compassion is the word passion. Compassion and passion are threads in the same fabric of human existence. How we incorporate them in our life helps define the meaning of living, dying and death.

Reporter: A Memoir by Seymour  M. Hersh (2018)

This is a fascinating and an exceptional memoir of a reporter’s reporter. Accuracy was essential in Hersh’s life that he learned early growing up on the south side of Chicago.  Striving for a sense of personal ethics affected his writing and observations. It was the story that he wanted to get right. He understood that transparency was always illusive. Having the time to research and write a story is a poignant reminder of journalism’s heyday considering today’s 24/7 social/news media cycle that reporters and correspondents face today. Digging deep and tackling stories others may not wish or have the time to research is a challenge that Hersh confronted head on.

There’s plenty of substance to this book – reporting demanded it whether it’s reporting the atrocities of Vietnam, the CIA subterfuge – undermining foreign governments and assassinations, the neocons (Neo-conservatives) and nationalists like Cheney, Rumsfeld and others like Kissinger who were not averse, to speaking from their teeth – to lie or obfuscate and disinform/mislead was a procedural matter. The private and abusive behavior of the presidents towards their own families is demonstrative of the effect of power on a “political leader.” The relationships, Hersh had With other journalists, is an intriguing glance into the man and his pursuit of a story, eg., Bob Woodward of the Washington Post is one of many examples. He called things as he saw them.

In exposing the truth, he ventured into dangerous territory on more than one occasion, the cruelty could be found if one chose to look – from the military, government, prisons, politicians, the list is long…the nature of humans is not always ethical or agreeable to one’s appetite but Hersh leaves few stones unturned when he’s after a story and his coverage shows it and he also shows how human he is.

This is a thought-provoking read.

Winter weather warnings 

     Beloved’s words 



No need……no concern …..Suddenly……

Artist: Signee Ruddy       





golden elixir flows


we dance in sunshine





Strange Histories by Darren Oldridge 2005

As I delve into the assorted books remaining in my library I came across this work of unusual human practices, (other than the current news).

The author offers an intriguing study of witches, angels, werewolves, heretics, persecution and local justice among people who thought they were reasonable though succumbing to superstition, fabrications, ignorance and arrogance from the medieval and Renaissance worlds and the lingering affects on today’s cultures.

The author has tried to “ to reconstruct the thinking of men and women who accepted as normal ideas that now seem to be absurd: the existence of witches and roaming cadavers, trial by ordeal, the capital punishment of animals…” and so forth…from moral arguments that suggests that “God sometimes wants people to suffer on earth, and that killing heretics is necessary and just.”

After reading I had to step back and ask myself how much have the times changed? When people are unable to discern the truth based on evidence and facts then fear makes inroads in to the human psyche. The introduction of fear is purposeful by those who wish to gain power over others.

Among other things the author examines intolerance and the effects of it on human reason. He engages the reader to look deeper than the surface of the matter. The religions of man have fed into his superstitions. What is true or false about the concept of resurrection is a fascinating examination between the ages. He introduces cases studies to demonstrate how the actions of people fit into the times in which they lived. The author examines religious fundamentalism and the labels people use to describe those at their end of the spectrum and though the labels may be emotionally satisfying the results are a misunderstanding of motives.

This is a sympathetic study of human being’s struggle with superstitions, myths,  that still linger in present day society…medieval exorcism and modern exorcism and walking spirits of the dead are examples along with extremes in beliefs and actions.

This is a thought-provoking read for the lay person and the specialist.

I have always believed that there were medicinal benefits and many more to be discovered. As a nurse, my activism belongs to the patient. Just from the sheer knowledge and study of herbal qualities, it has been well-known for many years that it is beneficial for cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy, for the glaucoma patients, it is a well-known fact that cannabis reduces ocular pressure, and for the stressed, the knowledge that the US patented cannabis for its neuroprotective benefits. As of the recent knowledge, autism, dravet syndrome, the fact that children are finding relief from these terrible and tragic anomalies, how could I, as a Professional Registered Nurse, ignore this proof, and as a patient advocate, I advocate for the safest care which I truly believe and have witnessed without any doubt.

The US Government has known since 1974 that Cannabis cures Cancer. In ’72 Richard Nixon wanted a larger budget for his war on drugs. He thought that if he proved Cannabis caused lung cancer like cigarettes do, he would get the support he needed. He gave the Medical College of Virginia 2 years to do a study on the effects of THC on the body. In ’74 the study was completed. It turns out, THC when ingested in highly concentrated forms (such as eating Cannabis oil) will attack any mutated cells in your body while strengthening and rejuvenating the healthy cells. They found the PERFECT cure for Cancer. It worked fast, it worked well, it worked on many different forms of Cancer in ALL stages and it had ZERO harmful side effects. (Unlike Chemo which deteriorates your entire body and kills 1 in 5 patients. Not only that, but it dissolves ALL forms of tumors and can even combat super-bugs like MRSA.) When Richard Nixon saw the results of the study he was FURIOUS. He threw the entire report in the trash and deemed the study classified. In 1976 President Gerald Ford put an end to all public cannabis research and granted exclusive research rights to major pharmaceutical companies, who set out — unsuccessfully — to develop synthetic forms of THC that would deliver all the medical benefits without the “high.” We only found out about the study a few years ago thanks to dedicated medical and law professionals who filed Freedom of Information Requests. The Government lied for many reasons… One of the main reasons is Pharmaceutical Companies. They spend billions every year lobbying to keep Cannabis illegal because they make TRILLIONS off Cancer drugs and research. They are already aware that Cannabis cures Cancer. They have a great con going now. Cancer patients and their loved ones will spend their entire life savings or even sell their houses and businesses to pay for Chemotherapy and other Cancer treatment drugs.


MAPS PTSD Studies. http://www.maps.org/research/mmj/marijuana-us

According to the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, 1.5% of the children in the U.S. are diagnosed with autism as of 2014, so this is a huge patient population. They are using CBD or cannabidiol, which can be derived from marijuana and hempplants. Jun 10, 2015

Desperate Parents of Autistic Children Trying Cannabis Despite Lack …




Nursing is based on holistic care. If we have the capacity to provide care and relief to our patients with the least amount of side effects, then why are we not doing so. I believe it is criminally negligent to withhold safe access to our patients. Cannabis should have never been a scheduled 1 illegal drug. It is an herb. It is a plant, it is nature. ” As one who has been involved in the medical marijuana movement from literally the very beginning and who brings to this issue 40 years of perspective, I can say with certainty that we have never been at a more opportune time to effect dramatic and positive change. Everyone is aware, however, that changing the federal […] Source: The U.S. Must Create a New Schedule for Cannabis: An Open Letter the U.S. Congress | Cannabis Now”

A holistic view means that we are interested in engaging and developing the whole person. We can view of this as different levels, physical, emotional, mental and spiritual. It’s the concept that the human being is multi-dimensional. We have conscious and unconscious aspects, rational and irrational aspects. That is the definition, that is the practice I follow.

No one should have to suffer needlessly. We have human rights, patient rights, a bill of rights and we have constitutional rights. The right to privacy often means the right to personal autonomy, or the right to choose whether to engage in certain acts or have certain experiences. Several amendments to the U.S. Constitution have been used in varying degrees of success in determining a right to personal autonomy:

The First Amendment protects the privacy of beliefs

  • The Third Amendment protects the privacy of the home against the use of it for housing soldiers
  • The Fourth Amendment protects privacy against unreasonable searches
  • The Fifth Amendment protects against self-incrimination, which in turn protects the privacy of personal information
  • The Ninth Amendment says that the “enumeration in the Constitution of certain rights shall not be construed to deny or disparage other rights retained by the people.” This has been interpreted as justification for broadly reading the Bill of Rights to protect privacy in ways not specifically provided in the first eight amendments.

– See more at: http://www.livescience.com/37398-right-to-privacy.html#sthash.57xPa2GT.dpuf

Our personal preferences on how we manage our pain should never be dictated by the pharmaceutical industry. We should never disregard medical or professional advice, but we should choose.

States that continue to show reluctance in accepting MMJ as a valid point of care need education. The outstanding number of researchers studying Cannabis prompted the creation of the International Cannabinoid Research Society (ICRS) in 1992 has brought together so many universally connected scientists, such as Dr. Sue Sisley, and Dr. Raphael Mechoulam, Dr. Sanjay Gupta, recognized scholars.

We have a responsibility to educate our state officials who may not fully understand. With understanding I believe a gentle acceptance will eventually have to occur.

We are rewarded daily, that the children that suffer needlessly have an outlet, and to see them smile, to hear the delight and optimism in every parent and/or caregiver when they witness the results.

We are rewarded because we have always believed in this plant and in nature and that finally, after all this time, we are able to provide what has been discovered and known since ancient times that Cannabis heals.

And thirdly, we can be rewarded by the fact that our choices are available.

We have asked this before, and will continue to request the change of unfair and archaic laws of greed…………

President Trump pick up your pen and sign an executive order to deschedule Cannabis………. please do right by the children and adults who can/will benefit from a plant that should have never been dismissed as just dope………you know better. Please help, with dignity, with the respect from parents and medical professionals, and most importantly, with love.

Sue De Gregorio Rosen, RN, CLNC

Nurse Activist, The Cannabis Nurses Network, Founding Member, Legal Liaison National Cannabis Patient Wall, activist & advocate, The American Cannabis Nurses Association, member NY NORML, member The Human Solution, Compassionate Care, Drug Policy Alliance, NAPW, Weed Women.

Image for Writings

Credit: Jean Philippe-Cypres, photographer


Early morning walk on the sand grains of a Lake Huron beach with a gentle breeze embracing my skin, the fragrance of nearby tall white pines filling my nostrils, while a single seagull walks a non-linear path, looks over and continues her morning search, a flock of Canadian geese fly over-head v shaped, honking, otherwise, just the sound of waves lapping the shore…today, another effort to write and perhaps wrap things up, and listen to some classic and jazz rhythms on my laptop while I strive to uncover the right word…my thoughts naked and wanting.

I take a deep breath and as I walk towards a path in the nearby woods and my car sitting in the distance I notice an old man, a middle-aged woman and a child, too skinny to estimate her age. A family. Homeless. Indigestible fat covering their bones. They glance and the man nods and I return the greeting. They are huddling around a small campfire in tattered clothes. The poor are always with us is an empty rationalization – by those with money in their pocket. A starving mind is not the preferred choice of the dispirited human heart. Poverty is a form of violence.

An ancient Egyptian, Amen-Em-Apt,1292-1075 B.C.E., wrote on a piece of papyrus, “Beware of robbing the poor and oppressing the weak.”  Anguish follows big lies, for neither poverty or wealth build character, as the road is steep on the downside.

I walk to my car in a mostly vacant dirt parking lot with scattered rutted tire tracks from a rainstorm earlier in the week, I suppose symbolic of life itself. And I know the song of compassion fulfills the needs of the soul while laughter helps circulate the blood and a smile is always good for the heart…still a disquiet amid the quiet, a haunting season, as leaves of Aspens flutter in the wind.

The moment has its own reality as I drive towards a dwelling to continue writing in my book.

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