The Oppenheimer Report 2/4/19

Gravenhurst today

While we were still living in Toronto, and shortly before we began construction of our log home, we were going through a stressful time. We were on the phone for hours with contractors and the log home company supplying our logs, and we were also embarking on the long journey involving the geriatric care of our parents. Shauna called me into our office one day, because she wanted to show me a website promoting meditative music. I was skeptical, but I conceded that we needed to find a little peace in our lives. The theory, as best I can remember, was that certain frequencies of sound have healing effects on the brain, conducive to meditation. I bought one of the CDs online, and they are in fact very relaxing.

The other night, I was in a particularly bad way. Usually, around the middle of February - and I’m early this year - when I have seen far too little of the sun, I’m ready to go into “Shining” mode. The other day that groundhog predicted an early spring, but I say ptoohey! Those weather rodents don’t know nuthin’ about forecasting the weather. And by the way, where the hell did that tradition originate? Oh, let’s ask the giant rat. And that Wiarton Willie, Ontario’s albino version of Punxatawny Phil, well, don’t get me started on him. I think he’s a crack addict. Have you seen his teeth? I digress. I was looking through music files on my computer, noticed my Jonathon Goldman “Healing Sounds” file, and realized I’d forgotten I had it. I put the headphones on, listened to it for about five minutes, and it really helped. The music is more of a repeated chant, with strange harmonic sounds inserted during the breaks. Whatever it is, it calmed me down, slowed down my heart rate, and practically erased any anxiety I was feeling. All I need now is a seasonal affective disorder (SAD) light, and some homemade soup, and my winter SOS kit will be complete.

Many decades ago, when I was in high school, some of my more enlightened classmates were practicing transcendental meditation, and at the time I didn’t know what all the fuss was about. I now get it. A friend of mine has been practicing the art of mindfulness, and he assures me that the breathing exercises and meditation involved in practicing mindfulness has calmed him down. The other night, there was a story on the news about elders who are using meditation as an alternative to the laundry list of medications doctors prescribe to calm anxiety and address a myriad of age-related illnesses. The mind can be a remarkable healer, so a holistic approach to stress relief just makes common sense. That said, there isn’t much of that going around these days. I melt down about once a month. My propensity to negatively process the too-much-information world we live in, coupled with my increasingly futile tape loop of why-can’t-things-be-the-way-they-used-to-be, is making me a little bit nuts. Chill, Jamie.

For me at least, it’s becoming harder and harder to focus. There’s so much out there, competing for my attention. At times that becomes worrisome. I keep getting drawn into the social media vortex; I keep soaking up the omnipresent and negative news. Even though I consciously try to bury my head in the sand with distractions, the problems around me, that I feel powerless to fix, are never far from the surface. As I suspect others do, I get discouraged about the apparent moral nosedive of human nature; kindness and love seem to be on the decline. Listening to this meditative music, while practicing the act of breathing rhythmically is simple and calming. In as little as five minutes time, everything looks a little more hopeful. Now, the challenge is to make a routine of this practice.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2019 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED