The pseudoscience of wimpy water crystals & tears.

In the same vein of Dr. Masaru Emoto’s experiments on the effect that intention (via thoughts, spoken words, and music) has on water as it crystallizes, I wonder, if you were to freeze tears, would see a similar thing? Tears of grief vs. tears of joy. Are there similarities? There should obviously be differences. It is too bad that Mr. Emoto’s claims are unverified by the scientific community because it would be such an interesting concept if it could be proven true. Unfortunately he has further ruined his credibility by banking off of his “holy water” at $35 a bottle. What a con man. Then again, people are buying it instead of researching his claims themselves, so good for him then? Seems like a grey area, though it does bring up personal ethics vs. consumer stupidity. What would you do?

Regardless, tears are cleansing. If it cannot be shown that there is some unique atomic structuring due to external influences, we all know they make us feel lighter in the immediate aftermath. Or tired. It is “emotional throw up” as my ma so eloquently puts it, lol. It is true, though, the relief, the peace you feel, if only momentarily before the storm sweeps back in. That moment of calm, when the rain stops, the sun breaks on the face of the earth (the earth being a metaphor for one’s emotional state; oooooh how deep *rolls eyes*)… is like a calm, steady exhale. Last night I was fortunate to grasp my moment of peace. For the past number of weeks, I have been torn up inside over my dad and the cancer he has been diagnosed with.  I hope surgery removes it and that is the end of it.

I have cried a total of 8 times in my life, which you may think is unhealthy, but I can assure you it is because I have not had reason to. Overall my life has been good. Please ignore the personal financial reports that state otherwise, lol. Finances aside, my life has been hectic, yes, but that is what adventure brings. As a movie character, I believe I fit the mold of the adventurer who gets himself into the most ridiculous corners (the kind that, when they happen, just make me scoff in disbelief and yell out, “REALLY??!” It is the natural response of “this is bullshit.”) and spends two thirds of the movie getting out. There is no happy ending, though. My life is far from over and there are hundreds more adventures worth filling a blog about that few people read, so why should there be an ending now? Usually the conclusion of one sequence signifies that another has already begun to take off. In hindsight, I can assure you that is the pattern of my life. There has been very little rest for me and perhaps I prefer it that way since that is all I know. I need a goal, an objective, I need to do.  I need to live.  To move.  I need another story. I wonder if anybody is even reading this still. I wouldn’t be, I am literally boring myself with this cliche musing of my life thus far. How the hell did a thought about wimpy water crystals even get me here?  I would like a refund for the last 7 minutes, please.

I am going to talk about something much more interesting now.  It’s supposed to snow again starting on Thursday.  Weather.  Yes.  I am going to discuss the weather.  If you are not doing so already, please fill a dixie cup with lukewarm water that has a metallic & ass aftertaste and awkwardly stand by the wall at your computer.  Even if you have a laptop and you are at a coffeehouse, just go stand by a wall, and think about ways to injure yourself to get out of discussing and/or hearing about the weather.  Really.  Unless the weather is for a geological cataclysm that signifies the resurrection of Jesus, the return of the 12th Imam, the building of Ezekiel’s Temple in Jerusalem, contact with aliens, and the Easter Island heads animating into “olde time” show tune re-enactors, then do it.  Do what?  That was too long a sentence and I believe we all lost our train of thought.

I was so different when I was 18.  My #8 key is working again!  For the past 2 months it had been pausing the music on my computer and not fulfilling it’s destiny of bringing forth the number 8 and now it works all of a sudden (I suffered the extreme inconvenience of using the #8 key on the far right side of the keyboard.  You know, the section with all the other heretical numbers that didn’t make the top keyboard cut).  Praise be to Joseph Smith and his golden plates, Batman.

I am amazed that my friends tolerated my “weirdness” as a young adult.  They wanted to debate sports or make jokes and I insisted on discussing Christology, Tantra, ancient history, or some other similar subject that all young people are just dying to learn more about.  I became close friends with the great swarms of crickets that followed me around all those years.  I’m happy I am out of that phase now.  I am mellowing out as I age insofar as pushing an intellectually stimulating conversation topic on others.  If it comes up, it comes up.  Or I will weave a more serious reference into an absurd remark.  Instead of pushing at all, I entertain or make people laugh.  There is a time and a place for serious discussion and honestly, life is full of so much shit & suffering that laughter is always prioritized over seriousness in most cases.  However, when the time and place is right….


4 thoughts on “The pseudoscience of wimpy water crystals & tears.

  1. I also posted about Dr.Emoto’s experiment! I find it so interesting!
    And I think you have an interesting idea about tears, I wonder how different people’s tears would look?

  2. snadius says:

    Well if his theory is correct, I would be interested in finding that out as well, with all the the formation variations possible based on an individual’s emotional state–and the intensity of it. I hope mine are handsome, lol.

  3. Happily Homeless says:

    Jebus-I had forgotten about the whole “emotional vomit” thing, Snads! Thank goodness you kids are around to remind us of our pearls of wisdom that we spouted in a knowing manner as you were growing up! And, yes, I’m sure you were a thrill to all of your high school mates as you discoursed on all those fascinating subjects, but they don’t hold a candle to you insisting on setting off on a journey across country, wearing a cloak, armed with a knife, yet refusing to try out the tough life by camping in our backyard for a brief time. Don’t you love those memories of being a kid? I’ve oftentimes just wanted to slap myself when I remember my shit…

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