Awesome stuff, Bobo. Amazing that you recovered from your stroke, but not surprising given the strength of your character. The chapter I was reading last night was about lasers. Low-intensity laser therapy is apparently the bomb. Of course, in my little neck of the woods no one is doing it, because my town sucks! There are only a few doctors who use low-intensity laser therapy in North America; apparently it is huge in Russia, where much of the initial research was done. The guy he mentions in the book is a Dr. Kahn who has a clinic in Toronto. Obviously nothing is a panacea for all ills, but there is so much more out there than the medical industrial complex. What I like about the book is it's all backed up by trials and the science is definitely there. One amazing this is that even though we know a lot about the brain, we still have no idea what thoughts really are. I guess it gets back to the age old question: who and what are we? My wife was talking about having some couples over for dinner and to play some games. I don't really like games, which is odd, because I loved them as a kid. I sometimes wonder if my fear of failure is wrapped up in simple board games. I'm rather good at some games, so I don't know why the hesitancy over playing them. I'm definitely a social person, but my wife is a full-on socialite. She LOVES having people over, going to parties, playing games, etc. Some of it is because she loves the attention. She is an extrovert with most definite narcissistic tendencies. Her father was a narcissist. Oh, and so was my mom. I've mentioned before how it seems I literally married my mother. Oh, I'm getting a boner just thinking about it. (that's meant to be a joke, btw) Yes, so games. I think it's OK not to like games so long as that is not an indication that it's just simply a bit of depression. The jury is still out on this one. I know that PMO made me look forward only to PMO and everything else was an intrusion. I'm almost 3 years clean from PMO, but it doesn't seem like any kind of milestone. The first year felt epic, but after that you realize it's just life going on as it should. Part of my mantra over these years has been: move slowly. I still adhere to that, especially when I'm doing a task that before was boring to me. I easily built up walls (and still do) about getting certain shit done. Moving slowly has really helped in this regard. It's like everything becomes a meditation, an opportunity to not think, to just be. I hate doing my taxes. I know that I am not that organized and so doing my taxes requires me to look for things, like receipts and statements. I'm not organized in that way because I think taxes are stupid and are designed to keep people stuck. They are created by little minds. However, being disorganized is a state of my life and so I can't really blame taxes, per se. It's this kind of convoluted thinking that used to keep me from even filing my taxes...oh, until the tax man caught up with. lol So, slowing down allows me to shut off of my brain, for the most part, and quietly look for things, rake things, wash things, etc. After reading parts of Doidge's book I am formulating a new intervention for myself and that is to do some things quickly. Going one pace all the time has been good, but it isn't helping rev up other parts of my engine (brain). The guy who had Parkinson's found that fast walking was the most beneficial. In fact, he found that just simply exercising did not allow the brain to make new connections. He had to walk fast, all the while paying close attention to how he was walking. It sounds like a lot of effort for a guy who just likes to amble when he's out stretching the legs. So, I'm going to find areas of my life where I can ratchet up the speed. A life should have different tempos, just like music; this is my new, not very well formulated mantra. I was a bit sad that Doofus left. He's a good guy and struggling mightily on a few different fronts. At first I blamed myself a little, because I did press him somewhat about his drinking and about what he was revealing to his therapist. But, you know what, I'm not in charge of him. I'm just here doing my best and hoping to be as healthy as I can. I realize that I'm not responsible for the health of anyone else, only myself. Maybe he, and others who've left, have found healthier outlets for their issues - I truly hope that's the case. OK, time for my cold shower so I can really wake up and face the day!