The World’s Fastest Indian

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(c) 2005 Well, the review (Straight from the Horse’s Mouth) was a bit of a stretch for me. I had one person who was alarmed that I would put my interview with Sherman into the newsletter. Well, these are things that I do in my spare time. Since I advocate that “Life is a Buffet and you must really try new things” then I guess I better just walk my talk, eh? A lot of people I talk to don’t know what their gifts to the world are. We all have several.

Exploring new areas of interest (even areas of disinterest) sometimes unfolds a whole new career for us. The point is, pick a topic, delve into it and if you like a part of something, then dig deeper. Who knows, you may create a new job title one of these days. I believe everyone should go to play each day, instead of going to work. People should earn money by giving of their passion.

On that note, I saw a great movie last month—The World’s Fastest Indian. We don’t get TV or the newspaper, so movies are our regular form of entertainment. One of our favorite movie reviewers is Ben, who works at the local Movie Gallery. He said it was a “must see” and talked me into it. Since it was about riding motorcycles in the desert, I figured Michael would love it.

The World’s Fastest Indian, ©2005 starring Anthony Hopkins is based on a true story about how a man from New Zealand broke the world’s record for Motorcycles at the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah during the late 1960’s.

What I liked about Burt (Anthony Hopkins) was his “never say never,” always positive spirit. He made do with what he had and had a great attitude about it. Very focused. He said he was never afraid of anything because it was a useless emotion.

And I liked the way his mind worked (because it’s the way mine works—we always relate to ourselves). As he was trying to figure out how to correct the way his motorcycle fishtailed at 85 miles/hour he figured if he added a lead weight just to the front of center point of gravity, that it would stop the wobble. He demonstrated the concept using a cigar and a toothpick. Well, he tried it and it didn’t work. By this time he had three accomplices and a following. He said to them, “That was a stupid idea. Who thought that up?” as he laughed after trying his idea out and almost killing himself. “You did, Burt!” they said.

It reminds me of when I was first introduced to Dr. John Upledger. He was a “normal” M.D. until he was asked by the University to teach acupuncture. He had not even experienced it, so he set about experimenting with his patients who had no money using 25 gauge syringe needles.

It seemed to work so well for HIS pain cases, that I thought I’d give it a go one night for my menstrual cramps. I figured I could figure it out fairly easily since he explained it pretty well on an audiocassette I had listened to.

It was about 3 a.m.  In quite a bit of pain, I found some 25 gauge syringe needles, sat down in a Lazy Boy chair and stuck one into where the pain was. I figured it would take about 20 minutes for the treatment. Good thing, because it was a cold night and my feet were freezing.

Well, about 10 minutes into the treatment, I saw that the needle was sucking into my abdomen.

“Cool! Just like John talked about on the tape. Gee, he’s right. Thank goodness there’s a hub on that needle or it would be sucking right into my body and I couldn’t get it out!”

During acupuncture, energy sometimes attracts the needle where the energy meridian is out of balance or too strong. The acupuncturist must occasionally twist the needle clockwise or counterclockwise to increase or decrease the energy, or in my case, to keep the needle moving freely so that fibrin threads do not adhere to it making it more difficult to pull out.

I didn’t know this at the time.

Then I felt a lump where the needle was. Only the room was dark and I didn’t want to turn on the light. I knew what it was anyway. . .an “energy cyst” coming out of my uterus—or so I thought with the education I had.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” I thought. “The negative emotions are just coming out of my uterus in a big ball of energy.”

John had developed the phrase “Energy Cyst” just for this type of thing. Hands on learning. What an adventure!

When I went to pull the needle out, it wouldn’t come out. “Wow! The negative vibes have glommed onto the end of the needle and formed a fibrin scar thread, just like I heard about on the audiocassette.” So I jerked the needle out and went to bed.

“Hmm. Well, that didn’t seem to do too much for me, pain-wise.” I thought.

The next morning I woke up and there was a bruise the size of a cantaloupe just below my belly button. I was non-plussed. It was just another experiment to me.

Other people make such a fuss of things.

“What? Do you expect me to practice on my clients?” I asked defensively as my partner at that time huffed and puffed and stomped around the room telling me what an idiot I was for doing something that stupid.

I know now that acupuncture needles have dull tips on them so they won’t penetrate arteries like I did with my little one-inch syringe needle.

Gee, you can’t believe everything you hear I guess. Well, I gave it a go anyway. You’ve got to try things to make progress.

Often, people often ask me how I know what things taste like as I describe the flavor while giving something to their pets. Well, duh. . . I taste them! Why send something home you know they can’t get down their child or their pet? They won’t get better that way!

The World’s Fastest Indian. Rent it. You’ll like it.

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