Anchoring the Reality That We Want

We’ve all experienced this phenomenon before: you’ve never heard of a particular item, idea, or person and then once you do you find it popping up all over the place. It’s as if the whole world (or at least everybody you know on Facebook), all got the same buzz at the same time. Of course, we all know that someone had to be “the first” — the first to think that thought, invent that item, do the research, say or do or discover something new — and that everybody else caught on later. Malcom Gladwell elaborated on this pattern in his first book, The Tipping Point, comparing the spread of new ideas to that of viruses in an epidemic — sooner or later everybody gets “infected.”

I found myself thinking about this process and how these trailblazers, or thought leaders may plant the seeds for a new world for all of us — how they, in effect, help to shape or create our reality. Whether it’s Pema Chodron, the Dalai Lama, or Carolyn Myss teaching about forgiveness, or someone like Elizabeth Warren standing up and saying that the Emperor has no clothes, the vanguard of any field anchor each advance for the rest of us. Sometimes it’s as simple as a fresh perspective on an old problem, like Joe Dispenza’s new book, You Are the Placebo Effect, in which he takes a different slant on the documented phenomenon of the mind’s ability to affect the body. He argues that it’s time to stop dismissing, or factoring out the placebo effect and to actually start harnessing it.

Sometimes it’s more complex, like the societal shift that has occured for gay rights: from Stonewall, to the fall of D.O.M.A. and the consensus acceptance of same sex marriage in my lifetime, where each step has built a new reality that would have been unthinkable several years ago. Who was the first person who stood up and said, “This is unacceptable?” Who planted the seed of the idea that we could change the old reality and create something new? Who had the imagination to think of something different?

I wonder about these things whenever I hear about the latest war or atrocity, or stories of child or animal abuse. I sign the petition, I make the phone call to my representative, I donate money and it never seems like it’s enough. But then I think — no, I imagine, that there are a few of us out there saying, “Enough is enough.” Then I imagine that perhaps there are several hundred, maybe even thousands of us holding that thought and anchoring a new reality… maybe it even goes viral and swamps Facebook: no more war, no more abuse, and universal rights for all people and creatures of the world. Hell, if we’re going to create a new world, why not thing big? And, who knows?… maybe we’re already near the tipping point.


To March or Not to March: When Science Gets Political

| by Cheryl Shainmark

Data is data, science is objective, and the facts should speak for themselves, right? The answer is… complicated. The choice of what to study can be very subjective, constrained by preconceived ideas, and driven by special interest groups, or funding, (often the same thing). Data has always been open to interpretation, and – even before Kellyanne Conway coined the phrase – “the facts” were sometimes ignored in favor of “alternative facts.” But what’s scaring some scientists now is the anti-science, climate change denying stance of the Trump administration, and the fact that data is disappearing.

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Everything’s Coming Up Qi Gong

| by Cheryl Shainmark

Several weeks ago I went through a spate of night sweats and hormone induced tossing and turning that left me wide awake at 2:30 or 3:00 every morning, heart pounding from the surge of adrenaline and completely unable to fall back asleep…. Each wee hour I’d grab a fresh dry night shirt and plod downstairs, resigned to Law & Order reruns and arguing with the cats for four hours about why they couldn’t go outside right then. After several nights of this I decided that I really had to do something better with my time.

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If 50 is the new 30 then why do I have to exercise so much?

| by Cheryl Shainmark

I miss the ability to eat at will: sweets and nacho chips, macaroni and cheese, and sour cream on just about anything that wasn’t moving. I miss the metabolism that allowed me to burn off the extra calories with almost no effort. But most of all, I miss my natural athleticism: my body’s ability to do anything from walking to gardening, from the balance beam to Step aerobics, from hiking to swimming to bowling, all for hours on end and with nary a creak nor a protest. If 50 is the new 30, then why has no one informed my body?

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“Proof” and “Sense8”: New Shows That Explore Consciousness and Evolution

| by Cheryl Shainmark

I’m always up for a good show that investigates consciousness, the paranormal, or mankind’s possible evolution of greater mental powers, i.e, ESP, psychism, bending spoons, etc. Whether it’s Scully and Mulder outwitting Cancerman in their search for the truth, those hunky brothers who hunt for bad demons, or the young autistic boy who can predict events by focusing on numbers, I’m there with a bag of popcorn and the hope that this time, maybe, the show will have legs and maybe even offer, well — something new.

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Sleepless in South Salem

| by Cheryl Shainmark

How much do I miss my sleep? Let me count the ways: I can’t remember the last time I woke refreshed from six to eight unbroken hours of rest; hell, I can’t remember much of anything anymore as short term memory seems to be the first casualty of sleep deprivation. I miss dreaming and when I say, “I am tired of waking up like the house is on fire, sweating, with my heart pounding from the surge of hormones,” I mean it literally: I am tired of it.

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Taking a Hawk’s Eye View

| by Cheryl Shainmark

It’s July again: sticky, humid, due to hit 94 today — and it’s my favorite time of the year. While others are wilting, I’m in my element, stretching like a big cat, true Leo that I am, and feeling my back unkink in the heat. July, the month of my birth, has traditionally been a wonderful time for me, a period of contemplation and re-alignment — chock full of gifts from the universe. This year I hike up to my new favorite place, a hawk watching spot in Mt. Kisco, NY. It’s a beautiful, peaceful place to meditate and reflect on the changes in my life this last year, and to muse on what I would like for the coming year…

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Spring: The Little Engine That Could

| by Cheryl Shainmark

Spring this year has been like the Little Engine That Could, saying, “I think I can, I think I can,” as it stutters and sputters slowly into view. I stop and start like that Little Engine: I want to eat salads but it’s cold enough to go for a stew; I should walk around the track but I’m not sure if I’ll feel my feet; my body is crying out for wheatgrass and my circadian clock is saying “go back to sleep.” My appearance captures the mood: it was freezing this morning when I woke up and now I’m dressed like a well heeled schizophrenic with layers of hoodies and thermal tops to peel off as the day progresses.

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Living and Traveling Alone

| by Cheryl Shainmark

After 30 years of being “the better half” of a couple, I just marked my newfound single-dom (singlehood?) with a trip to Belize and Guatemala, my first solo international travel. Getting away from New York had become imperative: in the space of three months, in what has been officially dubbed “The Longest Winter of My Life,” I had to learn to live alone for the first time, then had foot surgery and learned to live alone with a cast and crutches. As a final salvo, while still on crutches, I got snowed in with no company whatsoever for 10 consecutive days.

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Spring Cleaning for the Soul

| by Cheryl Shainmark

It’s that time of the year again: we turn the clocks forward, we count the days until spring arrives, and we clean out those old, unneeded items in our closets — the closets in our physical space, yes, but also those in our emotional and spiritual worlds as well. Like the last of the winter die-off in the garden, or the old empty mason jars that have grown cobwebs in the pantry…

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