I have been accompanied the past few days by a team of strolling violinists everywhere I go, playing the same sad, woe-is-me tune. This melancholy melody played particularly loudly yesterday when I dragged two trash cans to the end of the driveway as the sun set in the bitter cold. Then I returned for two more heavily loaded recycling cans which I heaved panting, sneezing and coughing for a total distance of well over 600 yards. I know this last fact because I took the liberty of bringing a yard stick with me the second time and measuring to ensure accuracy. I have the flu with all the nasty symptoms which I firmly believe were brought about my own momentarily weak mind and stupidity.
First, in all fairness, none of my homeboys were…well, at home; I could have waited, but didn’t. One son came home just after I manually hauled the last two, particularly cumbersome, cans down. He waited and offered me a ride back up which I declined, just so I could display my prowess at grabbing myself by the scruff of the neck and dragging my limp body up our dirt and pebble studded driveway to make my point. But of course, such points go completely unnoticed by children.
What is the purpose of this melodramatic, somewhat affected post? It’s to remind us, myself in particular, that our state of mind affects our health. Whenever I’m angry, upset, or bothered, almost immediately, I get a sudden rash, headache, or in this case, succumbed to a cold. What we carry around in our minds and what comes out in our words can impact our health. I have no carefully gathered statistics or conclusive studies on this matter. Only exhibit A: myself.
Last Sunday, I was stuck doing tasks I absolutely did not want to do. I maintained a bad attitude throughout and at one point, even muttered, “I’ll probably make myself sick.” I was successful.
Physical conditions are largely determined by mental states. The body is what a person creates by the form of his/her thoughts. Unworthy thoughts = negative emotions. Negative emotions need an outlet.
I believe the body and mind can be renewed and even transformed through clear vision and thought as well as spoken words. Hence, the importance of choosing thoughts and words carefully.
Just think.
The wise man gathers worthy thoughts and deeds; bit by bit he builds his pile of happiness ~ Buddha
Keli
Keli@counterfeithumans.com
Ah, the things we 
When my turn arrived to register, I battled anxiety, impatience and my quarrelsome side. My goal was to be in and out…in record time. Alas! It was not to be. I became my own worst stuper nightmare…the registrant who monopolizes one of only three open registration windows.
Husband (H) and Brother-in-law (B) attended a free two day seminar given by TJ Putts about investing in real estate. They found themselves lodged between a serial fingernail clipper and a stuper who had somehow ended up at the seminar when he really should have been at the nearest revivalist meeting. Between somersaulting thumbnails and sudden claps and shouts of “Hallelujah!”, H nearly lost his sanity. However, he remained, curious to uncover the purpose behind the free seminar.
H and B 
H finagled an invitation, realizing it was no coincidence that B, who claimed to have a rather large sum ready to invest, was extended an invitation.
1. There was too much paperwork involved; and
I’m glad to report this story has a happy ending. You’re familiar, no doubt, dearest readers, with the adage: when one door closes, another one opens. The very afternoon following this incident, Son received an invitation to play in the Toyota Tour Cup Junior Golf Series, a string of tournaments for elite junior golfers all over Southern California.
The small, bucolic, yet highly sophisticated valley (population 5000) where I live, boasts three post offices, all of which are practically registered epicenters of stupidity. During the holidays in particular, the amount of idiocy engaged in by postal workers is akin to the energy necessary to operate 23 cell phones on the planet Pluto. That’s no small feat. Postal employees make it a habit to keep one worker behind the counter per every twelve patrons in line, keeping employee #2 within view, reading the local paper or braiding her hair. By the time I reach the counter, I’m ready to pull the safety pin out of the nearest hand grenade.
The place seemed brighter, out of the ordinarily cheerful, surprisingly welcoming. I looked around. There was a glow about the room despite the same drab walls, same dull interior cement floor. Granted, I was pleased that only one customer stood between the postal worker and me, but not pleased enough to hallucinate. Then it hit me. It was Chris, the jolly and exultant, late twenties or so, government issue employee.
His smile was so bright that he could have lit all the candles on an octogenarian’s birthday cake. He looked so happy, so ecstatically jovial, that he’d made the place come alive.
At the counter, I told Chris that I needed postage for my oversize envelope #1 as well as the self addressed large envelope #2 folded inside #1 which was to be sent back to me by the recipient. Proper procedure is to weigh each separately because envelope #2 usually weighs less on the return trip. Chris only weighed envelope #1, holding his smile of contentment and sheer delight the whole time and muttering sweet sayings. How could I quibble over a quarter or two with the very personification of bliss? It was easy to overlook his negligence and mild stupidity. I dared not rain on his happiness.
You may be strolling toward your car in a parking lot and suddenly get one of these from a passerby. Or perhaps you’re sitting in a movie theater, patiently awaiting the start of the film while munching on a bucket of buttery popcorn, and you’ll be subjected to this by another moviegoer. I refer to lectures. The unplanned, uncivilized kind. Not the ones given in museums, universities, bookstores or the type engaged in by doting parents and friends, but the variety offered up by stupers (short for avowedly stupid persons). They give lectures when lectures are totally unnecessary.
I believe in recycling. I do. I bring reusable bags whenever shopping, but alas, on this occasion, I was returning home from a short trip and left mine at home. Hence, the glistening beads of sweat and the missing halo over my head. I felt like a felony suspect sitting beneath a 10,000 watt, naked light bulb, soon to be interrogated by ominous figures sporting crew cuts and bulging, bloodshot eyes.
Cashier: Do YOU know you have a serious problem? You have a responsibility…
Tradition dictates that many of us make New Year’s resolutions. As your resident stupidity specialist, I encourage you to add one vital and surprisingly reasonable, goal to your list to ensure that none of my dear, intelligent readers accidentally fall into the stuper (short, as you may know, for a plausibly stupid person) category.
Here it is: Clear out your clutter. Fairly simple, eh? No, I don’t mean the clutter sitting haphazardly in the top of your closet created when you toss your sweaters, hats, t-shirts and random belts, or the books, paperwork and notes you shove and pile under your bed…oops; that’s my personal junk I’m talking about. The clutter I refer to is housed in the same small space for all of us: the six or so incredible inches between our ears.
When our garbage cans are full, we non-stupers empty them. When our puppies need to learn proper manners, we train them. So why not do the same with our minds? It is a bit more difficult because we can’t physically view the content of our minds as we do the overflowing rubbish and the doggy poop deposited beneath the kitchen sink poised to be stepped on with, hopefully, a slippered shoe. It takes effort to decipher the makeup of our minds.