Personal Story

Hachiko

Hachiko
Japan
Tokyo
statue Akita
Richard Gere
Professor
Hidesaburō Ueno
Shibuya train station
Imperial University
Temperament Docile, Dignified, Responsive, Independent, Alert, Friendly, Protective, Courageous

Primary Foods

Hi, it’s Marilyn Fuller again: health coach, nurse, nutritionist.

I talked to you last time about the Circle of Life: primary foods, secondary foods. Primary foods being Relationships, Regular Activity, Fulfilling Career and Economics, and Spiritual Practice. Once you are satisfied and balanced in those areas, you’ll be happier and more fulfilled. You’ll be satisfied with life!

Then you can go on to what you're putting in your mouth, which is secondary Foods.

Feeling out of Balance?

Hi, this is Marilyn. I‘m a nurse and a wellness coach, with a specialty in nutrition.

Today I’d like to talk to you about the “wheel of life” and the “total wellness” team approach to balance your life, between primary foods and the enhancement of secondary foods.

Now, what are the primary foods? The 4 core primary foods are: exercise, spirituality career and economics, and relationships. When these are not balanced, we are not balanced.

Coincidence

Think for a moment about the meaning of the word.

Literally it means: "things that happen at the same time".

But there's a little more to it than that. Things happen together all the time, but we don't call every simultaneous happening a coincidence.

Two things happening together form a coincidence when cause and effect appear to be at work, but in fact are not.

Words That Can Crumble Stone

I feel there is lightning in words, a power way beyond just casually talking.

I feel words with intent can crumble stone.

I’m not saying it’s easy.

You have to be in the mood, the frame of mind, to do this, to speak the words as part of an inner chant, so they pull upon another realm, and weave it here.

I feel words are sacred, like rays of light from the soul, when spoken with knowing their deeper power.

Garden Magic

Garden life began for me at the age of 12. When my mother worried she was so busy she might not get her dahlias planted, I volunteered for the job. I seldom volunteered for chores on our busy family farm, but, even then, the magic of these flowering plants had me under their spell. Dahlias grow from thick, elongated roots called tubers that we dug each fall and stored for the winter. By springtime the gnarly clumps were like shriveled starfish, testing one’s faith any life could be left in those dusty, wrinkled remains.

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