Coherence in the Quantum Field

I just returned from a memorial service for a pastor in town that was unfortunately killed on his motorcycle last week when an elderly woman in an SUV plowed into him.  I never had the chance to meet him personally, but I have met his wife.  I attended a few of his services.  At the very first one, he was so funny with his storytelling, he had the whole congregation in stitches.  In fact, the memorial service started off with a short video of him telling a religious joke at the pulpit.

Howard Pennington was a very popular and much-loved pastor.  He definitely was not your average man of the cloth.  Hearing all the people and pastors that got up and spoke, Pastor Pennington’s heart was as vast as the Grand Canyon.  The staff at his church knew their church could not hold the anticipated number of people that would come to his memorial, so it was held in a large gymnasium and the place was packed.  There were pastors that came in from all over, the furthest one came from Hong Kong just to be at that service.

There were some funny and light-hearted stories told about the pastor.  There was one story told that I realized tied right into what I am presently studying about the quantum field.

A pastor was relating how Pastor Howard was urging him to “think big.”  Pastor Howard himself took a congregation of forty (if you included all the babies in the nursery) and turned it into a congregation of over 700.  And this is in a relatively small town.  And he built a 32,000 square foot church.  So, when I heard the words of Pastor Howard “think big” I immediately thought, “Ahh, he understands the quantum field.”

In my study group today with Parisha Taylor, we read about a remarkable study that demonstrates how our thoughts and feelings influence matter.  A cellular biologist conceived of a series of experiments to test healers’ ability to affect biological systems.  This study took place at the HeartMath Research Center in California.  This center has well documented a specific link between one’s emotional states and one’s heart rhythms.  When people experience negative emotions (such as anger or fear) their heart rhythms become erratic and disorganized.  In contrast, positive emotions (love and joy) produced highly ordered, coherent patterns.

In this experiment, there were three groups.  The researcher had each group holding a vial of DNA as DNA is fairly stable stuff.  The first group was told to hold a focus on strong elevated feelngs of love and appreciation for two minutes, and then held vials containing DNA.  A second group did the same thing with the elevated feelings but were asked additionally to hold an intention (thought) to either wind or unwind the strands of DNA they held in the hands.  A third group was asked to hold a clear intention of winding and unwinding DNA but they were instructed to not enter into a positive emotional state.  The results of this experiment was that the first and third group had no changes whatsoever to the DNA, and the second group produced significant changes to the shape of the DNA, in some cases as much as 25%.

This experiment demonstrated that a positive emotional state alone had no effect on the DNA, and a clear intention unaccompanied by emotion also had no effect on the DNA.  Only when the subjects held both a heightened emotional state and a clear intention were they able to produce the intended results.  Feelings and thoughts unified into a state of being.

Pastor Howard definitely had the coherence of thinking big accompanied with the zealous emotional drive to make it so to create his intended outcome.  The bottom line is that “the quantum field responds not to what we want; it responds to who we are being.”[1]

[1] Quote and description of experiment are from Dr. Joe Dispenza’s Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself.

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Infinite Number of Possibilities


In the quantum field, there is an infinite number of possibilities that exist simultaneously and any of those possibilities can manifest instantaneously.  There is a lot said about the observer effect in quantum physics.  Basically that matter is moving around through space at times as a particle and at other times, it is morphing into a wave, This is such a fantastic concept.  If more people understood that what they focus on, they get more of, they might think twice about thinking about what is lacking in their lives, what they are unhappy about, what they wish would go away.  I’ve heard someone say, what if you obsessed about your health?  Your wealth?

Parisha Taylor can be often heard to say, “You live where you think.”  She is often reflecting back to people things they say on what must be an unconscious, habituated level. If a person can become consciously aware of their automatic, habituated self-talk, they can make a decision from a place of observation, whether that serves them or not. And as Dr. Joe Dispenza says, they can then become like Gandalf on the bridge, stating to their self-defeating thoughts, “You may not pass.”

Parisha Taylor is host to a delightfully thought-provoking blogtalkradio program called Consciously Conscious which airs on Mondays at 6 pm Pacific, until daylight savings, at which time it will air at 7 pm Standard Mountain Time.  The website is  It is a very inviting and stimulating program, and listeners are welcomed to phone in to the show and share with the host or ask questions.

It is good to see such expanded mind topics being freely shared to such a wide audience on internet radio.


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Turning a Quantum Leaf

Ok, it’s been a little while since I wrote a blog, about 21 months, but whose counting.  I have been studying brain research and quantum physics for quite some time.  At present, I am in a study group moderated by Parisha Taylor on the quantum field theory as it relates to consciousness and change and growth.  The information is mind-blowing.  Science is getting very mystical.  The line appears to have blurred between the two.  I remember Parisha stating years ago that mysticism was the mother of science.

In a nutshell, quantum theory is a branch of physics dealing with physical phenomena at microscopic scales.  It describes all matter, everything that exists, in terms of a dual nature of particle-like and wave-like behavior.  As a wave, it is seen as energy, and as a particle, it is seen as matter.  The quantum field contains an infinite number of possibilities.  When you truly grasp that, you have the opportunity to move beyond the dichotomy of cause and effect, and become the creator of effects.  At the end of one of those Matrix movies, Neo appears to have grasped this.

So, I am excited and eager to share what I am learning.  There is so much natural phenomena that can be explained in terms of science and physics, and the fun kind.  Not stuffy petri dish stuff.

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New Guinea Pigs!!!

Several months ago, we purged our backyard of all male guinea pigs.

Too many guinea pigs! Basha's is the only grocery store that saves throw-away produce for pet owners. Otherwise, I share tons of my salad fixings with them.

I won’t go into details, but the males are very pig-like and self-consumed in their respect and treatment of females.  It was time to give the females a break from being barefoot and pregnant.  (Well, at least pregnant.)  It was a little hard for me to say goodbye to Ben, the herd’s patriarch, but I found a man with a young son outside of Walmart after 10:00 p.m. one night who offered to give Ben and another male a new outdoor home.  The two male guinea pigs were busy at the time munching on the vegetables I had put in the box, that they were oblivious to what was occurring.


(I’ll always remember hearing (and can picture) when Ben climbed into a split open pumpkin and ate and ate and ate, until he couldn’t move.  Had I seen that, I probably would have cut him off, for his sake.)

Anyways, after we found the males new homes, we had just three adult females and three small babies left.  I won’t name names of the young person who assured me that the three babies were female (because I know he would not like it).  Tragically, one night a cat came into the backyard and the three little ones ran for their lives all the way around the house into the front yard where two were killed.  My precious Oreo (double stuff) lost her life that night.

Oreo (looks like the cookie to me, with enough white filling to be Double Stuff)

The next day, hiding under the large trash can on wheels was the remaining baby, a tri-colored one named Taffy.  Turns out that Taffy was actually Tyrone!   When the adolescent “Taffy” began exhibiting “Tyrone-like” behaviors with her mother and aunts, and the adult females remained slim, people told me that Taffy could indeed be female and that kind of behavior is present in the animal kingdom.  Well, several months later, and a cold month, no less, all three females were exceedingly pregnant.  So, officially Taffy is Tyrone.

In prior litters, we had lots of black and black and white babies. But now with first Darlin, and then Tyrone, we have lots of tri-colored babies.  Beauties!  Tyrone is a beautiful male, and I hope to find him a good home.

After a couple short days, the babies are eating solid food competing with the adults for the guinea feed and vegetables.  I bought a plastic Igloo shelter for them as the first two females gave birth during a marathon cold rain we had for a few days.  Coco, the last

One of Coco's, the last one to give birth, just recently born.

female to give birth, gave birth inside the Igloo with most of the other adults and babies inside there with her.  I saw one of the aunties helping Coco clean off one of her  newborns.  I got two nice pictures of one of Coco’s babies by holding my camera down near the entrance of the Igloo.  Both of them are mostly white.  I haven’t disturbed them to get their picture as they haven’t ventured out of the Igloo yet, where the 4 and 5 day old babies are running around like they own the place!  I’m glad my investment in the Igloo was a big hit.  The prior nest boxes have all been cardboard shoeboxes.  But with three days of hard rain, Rivers found the babies underneath the collapsed shoe box, so I upgraded them.

I had shared in a prior post, that the first few guinea pigs were originally bought by Grandmother Pa’Ris’Ha and lived in her backyard, but had then been moved to my backyard.

Eleven is a lot of mouths to feed.  (Twelve, when you add Diesel, who gets pieces of banana every time he shows up at the back sliding glass door rising up on hind legs and looking so cute, I would challenge even the hardened person to not give in.)  They like fresh fruit and vegetables as much as I do.  It is rewarding, though, to watch the new little ones run around with abandon and squeal in delight.  How lucky they are to be cage-free guinea pigs with lots of space.  Well, that’s it for now, will provide updates…

The first five born commandeering the food dish, with the two newest ones visible inside the Igloo and Papa in the background.

That is one pregnant female! I knew Darlin would be the first to pop, and she did.

One of Darlin's babies. How Nibbles got its name.

Looking for a new home for Tyrone. He is one good-looking guinea pig.

Darlin nursing. Nursing mommas eat around the clock.

How cute!

A couple of babies have checked out whether Uncle Diesel (the rabbit) has any milk for them.

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My Mother’s Story of Survival

Saturday, December 25, 2010, marks the first year anniversary of my mother’s passing.  My twin sister took home with her last year a copy of a film recorded by a filming crew that was sent to Cleveland, Ohio as part of a project that filmmaker, Steven Spielberg, initiated called the Shoah Project.  Shoah is the hebrew word for holocaust.  Steven Spielberg sent film crews all over the country to capture on film the stories of the remaining survivors of the holocaust, so that their stories may be preserved.  My mother was interviewed and filmed as part of that project.  My sister drafted the following story from the interview she listened to which she is submitting for entry into a holocaust survivor’s cookbook, which will contain their personal stories and recipes.  (Boy, do I regret not learning how to make gefilte fish from her, and a few of her other recipes)

I wanted to share this.  It’s not a particularly happy story, but then again, at this time of the year, being the holidays and the end of the year, most people do reflect their upon their lives, and what they do have and are grateful for. Grandmother Pa’Ris’Ha has spoken a bit about the Cherokee Trail of Tears, our government’s forced removal of the Cherokee from their homelands in North Carolina and surrounding states that occurred here in this country between 1830 and 1840.  I am only one generation away from what happened to my parents.  It was a lot to take in, as a child, learning about these events.  I put my sister’s writing in italics.  (There are a few phrases that are not in English, don’t worry about it, just skip over those parts, you’ll get the majority of it).

Helen (Jachimowicz) Potash

This photo can be found in the book "Lodz Ghetto." My mother is the girl standing on the right side of the photo by the fence. Her younger brother is in the center of the photo. They are awaiting deportation via cattle car to the concentration camps.


My mother, Helen Potash, was born Haya Jachimowicz June 26, 1929 in Lodz, Poland. She was the youngest of 5 girls and had a younger brother Moishe. Her parents named her Haya, meaning life, to prevent an “ayin hora” evil eye for being the fifth girl. They finally got their “kaddish” when their youngest, a boy, was born.

In 1940, at age ten, Haya moved with her parents, older sister Masha, and baby brother Moishe, to the Lodz ghetto. Three older sisters went east to avoid the ghetto. The sisters sent letters until 1942 and afterwards, were never heard from again. Haya’s mother became ill and was unable to walk. Young Haya worked her own 8 hour shift for her ration card, and then did her mother’s 8 hour shift for that ration card. Still, they were starving and her father succumbed to starvation and passed away. He laid in the apartment for a full week until his body was removed.

After five years in the ghetto, Haya boarded a cattle car to Auschwitz with her mother, sister, and brother. There were crammed in that compartment with not less than 100 people and only a small window for air. No food or water for close to a week. Arriving in Auschwitz, there was a lot of screaming and shoving. Haya and her family lined up with the others and walked up to the inhuman Dr. Josef Mengele, may his name be erased. He pointed his riding crop one way for Haya and Masha, and then pointed to the other line for Haya’s mother and brother. Not wanting to be separated from their mother, the two girls went behind Mengele’s back to join their mother. Mengele, yimach sh’mo, noticed, and grabbed both of them by the scruff of their necks and threw them to the other direction. Haya remembered then rolling down a small hill. They never saw their mother or brother again. They did not know at that time, but had they stayed in the same line as their mother and brother, they would have immediately be taken to the gas chambers.

After only a very short time, (less than two weeks) Haya and Masha boarded another cattle car to a work camp in Hamburg, Germany. They were woken up at 4 am and forced to stand at roll call for several hours. Then they walked for a couple of hours each way to a train that took them to a knitting factory. Later she was given a job working in the camp kitchen. One day she was walking by herself to the latrine, and two men walked up to her and said “Shema Yisroel”! No one else was around. Haya was speechless. She never expected to hear those two words in that camp in Germany! They opened their briefcases and handed her several sandwiches! She stuffed them in her pockets and the men left. She never saw them before, and she never saw them again. She shared the sandwiches with her sister.

In August of 1945, Haya and Masha were again shipped out by cattle car to Bergen Belsen. My mother pauses to describe what she saw there. Piles upon piles of skeletal bodies. Those still living looked catatonic, crying out for water. My mother found a small cup and collected water from a leaky pipe in the latrine and gave water to the people there.

One day there was a lot of commotion and all of the German soldiers fled. The inmates ran to the fence to see what was happening. The Hungarian guards that were there opened fire on all of the women and girls with machine guns. People on either side of her were dropping from the bullets. Again, Haya didn’t know how or why she was spared. Soldiers arrived on trucks and announced in every language, “Don’t panic! The war is over! We will bring food! Don’t worry!

After the war, my mom’s sister married another survivor and remained for a time in Germany. My mother came by herself to America on one of the first Children’s Transport. Because there was no one in New York to claim her, she was sent with one other girl to Cleveland, Ohio where she went to live with a foster family. She was 17 years old and attended Heights High School for two years before graduating with honors. She met my father, Bernard Potash, a survivor from Trochenbrod.  (See his sister’s – Betty Potash Golds’ incredible account of being a Trochenbrod survivor)

My mother was the proudest mother in the world of her three sons and twin daughters. She told everyone she had a full house – Three kings and a pair of queens! She became the proud Bubbe of 16 grandchildren and “Super Bubbe” to her great grandson! I am submitting her story on the date of her first yarhzeit, May it Be a for a Lichteke Gan Eden!

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Extraordinary Perception

Today when I was driving out Stockton Hill Road out of Kingman, I kept looking left out the window at the Cerbat Mountains.  I have driven past this mountain range many times, and while I truly appreciate the view each and every time I have traveled this route, today, I just kept staring at the mountains because they seemed to me to be more vivid.  I felt like I was experiencing a heightened perception, or my visual acuity was amplified.  Perhaps it was all the negative ions in the air from the rain and the vibrant green that was spread across the desert.  My other hypothesis regarding what could be occurring was that immediately before heading out, I had been pretty excited and energized over a successful brief morning in the stock market.  I wondered if feeling up tone would enhance my perceptions.  While I am presently working through resolving a head cold, I had not taken any medications whatsoever.

Whatever the cause, it is such an awesome experience to be moving through your day and having several wow moments during ordinary activities, instead of a usual almost hypnotic-like sameness.  I have done a lot of reading on brain research and I remember years ago learning that most people don’t even really see what is going on around them, they are merely pulling up memories of like incidences.

If you spoke with a spiritual teacher, they might say to you that you are fast asleep.  That is because the difference of what you may be perceiving, as opposed to what you potentially could be perceiving, is vast.  Most people can’t even see past their judgments.  My Elder, Grandmother Pa’Ris’Ha often asks us if we are aware of what is around us.  She encourages us often to be still, quiet our busy minds and be in a place of observance.

In the movie, What the Bleep, there was mention that the Natives could not see the first ships that were arriving from Europe approaching the shorelines.  That was because they had no reference for ships, and therefore could not perceive them.  It was only the shaman who first noticed the breaking patterns of waves on the water that lead him to then see the ships approaching.  Interesting.

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Random Acts of Kindness

I was sitting in front of my computer last night considering whether I wanted to write about the article I read in the Las Vegas Review Journal regarding the sixty homeless persons who died in that area during 2010.  The newspaper published all of their names except for the most recent one that was still in the process of being identified.

As I read all fifty-nine names, I wondered, as in the game of “six degrees of Kevin Bacon,” how many people, relatives, acquaintances, former school buddies, co-workers, neighbors, etc. were connected to that list of people.

The article went on to give some demographics; 54 men and six women, ages ranged from 20 to 79.  Drugs or alcohol were contributing factors in 26 of the deaths.  There were two homicides and two suicides.  Twelve were caused at least in part by exposure to the elements and six were veterans.

I decided to peruse Facebook for a moment, to see what was recently posted.  The first thing I saw was a post from my niece, Malka, who is currently living in Washington, D.C., that said this, “Shterna and I went to Starbucks, bought 2 hot coffees, and gave them to homeless people near Dupont Circle. Seeing the way the men’s faces lit up was incredible and humbling. How many lives do we have the ability to change for the better every day? How many opportunities to we actually take?”   WOW.

While this is typically the time of year, being “the holidays,” that more people tend to reach out to others, when taking into consideration all the things in their lives they are grateful for, it is so important that these acts of kindness not be limited to just the holidays.  With that being said, it is still really special that a lot of people do reach out to ensure that those who have not or cannot provide for their families are considered and included in the holiday giving.  This past week in my town, almost 800 children were given clothing and toys, the result of a massive fundraising effort.  I was told the amount collected for the children was $49,000.00.

Just today I saw in the local paper, an appeal for people to come into the City Complex and take a tag off the Senior Angel Tree.  This tree is part of a statewide initiative as part of a Senior Companion program, where local, homebound seniors without families were given tags to write down what they would like to receive as a gift this year.  Usually by this time, all the tags are gone, but this year, half of them still remain.  I sent the article out in an email to local acquaintances to give them a heads up on this opportunity.  I will stop by tomorrow to pick one up.

In my lifetime, I have never met a more giving person than Grandmother Pa’Ris’Ha, an amazing humanitarian and philanthropist.  She often extols others to live as they want the world and the people in their life to be.  And on the subject of generosity, she simply states that no one can outgive the Great Giver of All Life.

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