Annette Larkins' garden.

The woman is 74 years old but looks and behaves much younger. She carved out a unique lifestyle based primarily but not solely on diet. Television and radio shows in her area are continuously interviewing her about how she stays so young. She receives visitors from around the world. Most of the people coming to visit her and to see her garden and learn her ways know nothing of what she is talking about. Everything is new to them and much of what she tells them is not so easy to incorporate into their own lives. Then John comes along.

John describes her front yard, discusses what he sees, describes the characteristics of plants. Explains why they would be in her garden. Then he takes his camera into the backyard and does the same thing. The woman is inside overhearing John speaking. She is amazed at John's broad knowledge of all that she's doing. She couldn't have said it better herself. Finally someone has come over who already knows what she's doing. She doesn't have to explain anything. She is well pleased. She has welcomed a kindred spirit.

I'm fascinated watching these two together. John can actually shut up and listen. Their time together is very pleasant confab.

I want to talk about something else.

In another video I watched yesterday John is explaining a man's setup for microgreens and sprouting. It's long and a bit tedious as this one. Near the end of the video he must pimp his subscriptions and merchandise. He does this rapidly. At a point he says proceeds go to his favorite animal shelter. He describes this shelter that accepts hopeless cases, blind dogs, deaf dogs, 3-legged dogs, and various other inflictions, abused animals that don't stand a chance. John is temporarily overwhelmed but not disabled by emotion from something remembered that overtakes him for a few seconds. In the timespan of a single sentence, his eyes turn red and watery, his voice falters and in mere seconds he recovers without ever stopping and continues speaking in clear voice rapidly without missing a beat. Like a storm, a tornado that blew through his whole mind and body and spirit and then disappeared.

How easily given to emotion. He just let it happen. As if that is nothing unusual.

I was like that after I broke my femur at the hip and ended up in a nursing home right as I was doing so well recovering from previous bone breaks and getting out more and more, actually taking a trip. This was at the Denver train terminal returning from Glenwood Springs. I was almost home. I was walking a lot without using a cane. And that after wheelchairs, and walkers and crutches that went on for years. Now it will be years recovering from this. The setback on setback on setback was too much.

During that period of recuperation I was continuously flooded with squalls of emotion like dust devils and I decided to simply own it. Let it flash through me. It's a flash flood, in seconds it's gone. That seemed a lot better than suppressing it. And I didn't care what anyone else thought of me. As boys we were taught not to cry. I never saw my dad cry. Until this happened. My dad suppressed his sad emotion like crazy. But not his anger emotion. Anger could flash. Sadness could not. And now his adult son who never did this before cries in inconsequential moments.

I was written up at the nursing home. (Only there for ten days) A female psychiatrist came in to interview me about this. They were concerned it might be something serious. I told her what I just told you. "I decided to let the emotion express and pass through me. No fighting it. No resistance. No suppression." That seemed the best psychologically given the situation. I'm fine. Mostly because of that. I'd be a real mess if I held it.

They are seeing a mess. I am seeing mess prevention.

The psychologist befriended me while I was there and through later discussions she asked me about a lot of nonprofessional things because her brother is similar to me. She felt knowing me gave her insight to her brother.

For the first time I saw my father cry. Apparently seeing me  somehow gave him permission to allow his sadness to express. He became a different man.

A friend who is ex-Navy pilot and who walks through walls in his mind and absolutely would never allow anyone to see him being emotional now cries like a g.d. baby at every faintly emotional thing. He verbalizes, "I feel like crying."  What a puss. Because of me.

And now that never happens to me anymore. Seeing it in John blew my mind.

The first half is John showing us Annettes' garden. The second half is John and Annette together on her sofa (deplorable fabric and wallpaper design) with Annette describing her background and her personal history, her evolution directed by her independent thinking.

This is two lovely people sharing to the utmost the things that they've learned. On their own they have figured out what is wrong and how to correct it. It's taken a mindset equal to religion to get to the place where they are and they're sharing their religion, their belief system, with us.