Treasury Secretary Henry M. Paulson Jr....An Act of God...and Three Days without a Bowel Movement

Really!...three days, and here is where the mind really needs to loosen up, because I was up until 4:30 am trying to figure out how to get my email subscription widget to work among other bells and whistles for this blog, carried away by the passion of my vision for what I might make of this blogging adventure that will, stated with just the slightest hyperbole, absolutely no hubris, and in all humility attract, hundreds of thousands if not millions of readers, not stopping for a second to ask myself if translating my ephemeral vision of personally differentiating Body, Mind, and Spirit into a mass social reintegration of them and world wide movement is realistic, because "realistic" is an ephemeral target in itself, and there's no time to waste in creating a vision that will save the world from becoming a devastated, global-climate-changing, uninhabitable, solar heat sink or chilly ice chink of a planet, twenty-first century humanity destined to either be the failure of all civilizations or the "go to" species that will turn our runaway biosphere around, and so yes, no time to waste, even when a personal container of waste such as myself has recently been so backed up, due to a failed back and lying in bed for three days, after writhing on the floor of my apartment last Thursday evening in intense pain from muscle spasms that spread across the width of my back from the sacrum up to mid-back, from a combination of that late night email widget quest and two days later having bodywork that concentrated on releasing tension from, and thus weakening, the anterior (front) of my body to the complete ignoring of my back side, which gradually as the evening wore on discovered its greater superiority in strength and began taking advantage, at first in little twinges of pain getting up or down from a chair, and eventually surmounting a full blitzkrieg, dropping me to the floor in excruciating pain and once down, mobilizing wave after wave of spasms as I tried to make it to the bathroom to pee, not able to even pull myself up onto the toilet seat, emptying the small waste paper basket of its contents onto the bathroom floor so I could finally relieve my bladder into it, my bladder extremely thankful, but not so much that it would aid me in lifting, without alarming pain, my makeshift pee bucket up high enough to empty into the toilet, so compassionately placing my wayward pee in its makeshift bucket next to the sewer transit platform (toilet) for a future visitor to send on its way, and worming my way toward the bedroom, writhing in more painful spasms after having tried to pull myself up to a standing position in the bathroom door frame, on the floor my right calf raising objections to my back, countering its blitzkrieg with excruciating cramps, then rolling, folding, squirming, cramping and spasming through the narrow hallway toward the bedroom and gripping the sheets to pull myself into bed, where I finally find relief and quickly fall off to sleep and remain for three days in a kind of semi-delirious, bedside-radio-political-news-blaring-"dream-world"- mixing-with-"real-world" passing of time that I recall as follows, with friends bringing me food, my immobility quickly agreed to by my bowels in sympathy, knowing the bed was no place to make their deposit, an agreement that mortgaged my three, pain free days in bed with their accumulating shitty interest backing up in those very bowels, like a troubled mortgage-backed security, unregulated by the Senate Banking Committee, a situation in the words of The Federal Reserve chairman, Ben S. Bernanke, that "'continues to be very unpredictable, and very worrisome,' and that inaction could lead to a recession.", his words being so on target, as I had to cancel three part-time gigs at Oakland schools, representing a tutoring vendor, lost income of about $180, but as "Senator Dodd called the crisis 'entirely foreseeable and preventable, not an act of God,'" he won my vote of confidence for hinting at the cause of the problem, over extending myself, staying up until 4:30 a.m. on the computer, negligence on my part for not maintaining infrastructure, a negligence that is ultimately the result of an uninformed, illinformed, disinformed, and quite inactive Body politic, Mind maneuvering for position, and Spirit bleeding ambition, a system out of balance, not as Treasury Secretary Paulson described it, "an outdated regulatory system," to which in my delirious state I shouted into the radio, "bullshit! I am generally very regular, and my thyroid recently checked out in the middle of the normal range," asserting that my Body is governed by its own rules, as is the Body Politic, laws broken, ignored, and skirted at all levels of society in the universal triangulation of Body, Mind, and Spirit, or more abstractly, matter, idea, and meaning, evidenced here in my mind willing itself onto this material page in a tumble of words to advance its agenda in this sphere of language and thought, but also aquiesing to my lying in bed with an ice pack to mend and make amends to my body for my mind's overzealous blogging ambition to reveal Spirit, whose universal presence is in my mind's awareness, my body's bones, tissues, sweat, smell, and shit in a play of Consciousness that witnessed me finally paying off my three day mortgage with much straining and groaning to the sound of a small plop, a big plop, a tiny plop, and a grand finale, very large, toilet echoing plop, I in complete awe of my body's production and thankful at last for some small movements without pain, which I made slipping down to the floor onto my knees, and then turned to observe up close just how big a production it was, one big colossal turd, I, Spirit manifest, witnessing Spirit manifest, reflecting the manifesto that Secretary Henry M Paulson Jr. sent for viewing by congress, which stated in section 8 of his bailout package, "Decisions by the Secretary pursuant to the authority of this Act are non-reviewable and committed to agency discretion, and may not be reviewed by any court of law or any administrative agency," to which I ask, " How constipated is that?"

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My sources: The Huffington Post
"Buyout Plan for Wall Street Is a Hard Sell on Capitol Hill" by Mark Landler and Steven Lee Myers, Published: Sept. 23, 2008
"Dirty Secret of the Bailout: Thirty-Two Words That None Dare Utter" by Jason Links, Sept. 22, 2008