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Oh, that same old feeling

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My brother Robert came to me back in the late nineties and said he had, after five years work, scripted tonal vibrations intertwined in his music that will balance my biofield. I said your what, has what, that will do what to my what? Because he was my brother, I reluctantly promised to use it as he instructed. A couple days go by and no results. I complain, he said wait and continue. Because he’s family I continued faithfully for another three days. I once again complain … but then I come up with a way out … genius! I say, “Hey, we have a chance to go sailing tomorrow but the captain has a really bad headache, I really want to go but he might cancel. Will this help him?” Smooth… He said, “Maybe, give it to him to try.” Success, I got out of it and pushed it onto my sailing buddy.                                                                         The very next morning two amazing things happened, so profoundly that it prompted me to dissolve my successful business and started
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Quick-strut Grandma-san

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I tour many small villages throughout Japan. In one such village, a 32-year-old man came to purchase his second Pendant. The story he gave after being asked what had happened to his other Pendant was amazing and heartwarming. He said that he lives across an ancient narrow stone alley from an elderly woman in her nineties. He explained that every day at the same time she slowl y and methodically shuffles up the alley to a local tea house on the corner. She uses the alley wall to provide two-handed support and takes about 15 minutes to cover the 50-foot distance. For no real reason, he felt compelled to let her try his Pendant and on the way out to work he handed it to her, offered a brief explanation and left. The following morning, to his great surprise and awe, he saw the older woman walking in a normal, unsupported and strong gait up the ally at a quick pace toward the tea house. Without a word spoken she looked at him, who was staring back at her in shock and she flashed a g
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Shock and Smell the Roses

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I’m in Tokyo, in a fancy board room at the top of a fancy hotel meeting with a group of five influential, fancy women. A stately elderly woman sat directly across from me peering over the wide expanse of an expensive oak table. Behind her was about twenty feet of open space that led to a serving table where an efficient-looking waitress dressed in a formal Kimono was quietly pouring us  some coffee. Suddenly, the stately elderly woman’s face across from me changed to one of great shock and surprise. Her demeanor was that of confusion and uncertainty. Eyes wide in shock, she stood up and began to spew out a torrent of Japanese words tinged with anxiety. The other four women all join in on the cacophony of incomprehensible chatter, all looking at her, then at me, and back again. I sat there in confusion, wondering if a spider had bitten her. Did she see a mouse? What?! Then I thought, am I in trouble? As it turns out, this regal woman had lost her sense of smell over 30 years ago
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