Barbados Tourism and the Empowered Exhalation

Continuing the adventures of a Barbados visit to discuss law, lawyering, legal systems, attorney perspectives, law faculty exams, and much else.

Our tour guide reminded us that tourism is the largest industry, followed by agriculture and then manufacturing. The Brits like it here, he said, because they discovered the country and built the initial infrastructure, cricket is the national sport, those who come in the winter are called "snowbirds," many have yachts, etc etc. The word colonialism was, politely, never mentioned ... in fact our guide seemed quite proud of the British legacy. And it does have its positive points.

The Anglican Church, for example ... some might say, as we visited a 300-year old structure with a graveyard testifying to things past and a belief that the body does indeed physically resurrect ... something to chew on in another post.
barbados pic.jpg
Well we did see a lot of lovely foliage, and vistas of the ocean both high and low. And of course this photo, which reminded me of how some people still see the world, looking through the barrel of a canon. North Korea is in the news and it's hard not to think about the fact that the world, already unsafe, is getting still more dangerous. Are we meant to colonize ... I mean instill our humanity into ... other planets during our lifetime as the only way out of the nuclear threat?

Speaking of civilization, the one thing my bus-mates did when we stopped for a break, a snack prepared by our hotel, was queue up, with one person dutifully playing the server. It seems the 6 or 7 mates on board joined the queue, while others of us rather raggedly created an anti-queue, and politely insisted on serving ourselves, causing the would-be hostess to be a little disgruntled. That and the fact that the hostess, who seemed to suddenly take charge of everything (please see Barbara Brennan, Hands of Light, for background on the 'psychopathic defense structure'), kept calling the 3-year old on board a "baby" (and carrying the baby for the mother) created a bit of mental discomfort ... reminded me of a sutra (or aphoris) that yoga instructor Baron Baptiste used to hurl at his class: "The pose begins when you want to get out it."

I realized that I had a bit more affinity with the dead than the living. Quite a revelation, perhaps, but then again the cemetery was on the lovely walk behind the church to the sea view, and everyone was reading the headstones. I couldn't really tune in as there was quite a crowd and silence ... stillness ... not the reigning mood.

But quitely I mused: Spirits, ancestors, out-of-body entities I understand very well. They talk ... sometimes very insistently. (I remember visiting the South of France, and placing a stone on the tombstone of Marc Chagall, when I distinctly heard the word, shalom (internally).) Living folks queuing up and bossing me around with a pair of plastic tongs, now that requires what my yoga teacher John Childers used to call the "empowered exhalation:" the place where the emotions arise and are released.

Ah, the endless Barbadian coast ... sans fort. barbados pic (2).jpg

But what I'm really thinking about is North Korea, deep space, the fate of the human species, the ocean, the plan (God's plan, some say ... and I'm reading in the wonderful Asimov series, The Foundation, about the Seldon Plan) and how Condie Rice's strategy might fit into it; life beyond the beyond; life beyond the body, and life in the body. Maybe that's what this time in Barbados is all about.


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That was a photo of the animal flower cave at the northern tip of Barbados. Reminded me a bit of Niagra Falls ... also Iguazu Falls in Brazil, which I saw as a child, long before Al Gore used it as an example of global warming (another them: the world the way it was).

Since tourism is the pride of many Caribbean nations (and crucial to their economies), let me glorify the Folkestone Marine Park. But as importantly, snorkeling ... being carried by the current ... hovering above the fish, below the fish, alongside, inside the school of fish.

Now I deeply understand that "traffic" is neither the number of hits on a website nor the number of commuters on the I-90 corridor. It is a fish staring into your eye watching you drift along as the current moves you jointly toward an unknown destination.

The island has its beat, and so does the current, and back on land the rhythms are still swaying back and forth, to and fro, making that magical sound that can only be heard within, in the landscape of the heart.

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PS: About the annoying tourist, I am reminded that yoga teaches us to regard all beings as equal, all as manifestations of consciousness. "Like" and "dislike" are merely the play of the mind; sheer nonsense; the ultimate awareness goes deeper. And so "I" am reminded by this experience.

You can read more about spirituality in healthcare and beyond elsewhere on this blog, including:

* Healthy Life After Death, Digitally
* Energy Healing Finds Support in Physics Theory of Parallel Universes
* Woman in Coma Played Tennis in Her Head
* Have Your Robot or Droid Call Mine
* Energy Healing Commonly Used in Hospitals
* "Meditation Nation," Herald Reports
* The Dance, and
* Healing at the Borderland of Medicine and Religion

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The Count of Monte Cristo was playing on television so I tuned in for a bit. The guy gets trained in swordsmanship and Yoda-like wisdom by a dying priest, a clever jailmate who builds a tunnel. The priest reveals a treasure map and asks the Count-to-be to use the gold only for good. However, the Count-to-be is an aetheist and bent on revenge. All this gets him in trouble, but he does get his wife back, and son, and gets the bad guy, obviously fogetting the admonition that "vengance is mine saith the Lord." (I'm not sure about the saith ... except maybe it is an allusion to Seth Speaks, the famous channeled work by Jayne Roberts. Nonetheless the principle is still valuable.)

All in all a bit of Hollywood doggerel, with some scriptural bits mashed in.

The Count's advisor counsels: 'You have money. You have a beautiful wife. Forget revenge....It is my job to protect you, even from yourself.' It takes the rest of the film for the Count to figure that out. But once he does, we know he will become a great philanthropist.

Maybe he will even support legal and policy research into integrative medicine, and into the future of health care embracing everything from biomedicine and bioethics to integration of spirituality into critical care and other frontiers. With all those treasure trunks of gold pieces he can sure find something better to do than to buy fine Paris silks that impress others into calling him, "Your grace." And he has pledged to use money for good, not revenge.

But that transformation in him, hinted at only in his upward glance toward the sky, will take a sequel, and so far the Count has only seen the ocean as a floorboard for treasures consisting of gold -- a/k/a Mammon -- which he spends rather recklessly (obviously he has a moral counselor but not a financial advisor) coming to his own lavish extravaganza in a hot air balloon (rather than tending his Fidelity -- or, like Einstein, TIAA-CREF -- retirement accounts); the only empowered exhalation has been while engaging in swordplay, not yoga; and he hasn't spent any time snorkeling. Since he did read "The Wealth of Nations" in prison, though he may find time to expand his literary pursuits, synthesize East and West, and turn to the empire within, with which his life with wife and son can perhaps be valuably enriched.

So went the Bhajan contemplation following mac-and-cheese and cou-cou. As a wise man once said: "Check it deep, mon, dat cris, but doun get chatty chatty cause Mi dun dweet."