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December 9, 2020 / In this edition:

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"Acceptance: When Those We Love Don't Want To Heal"
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When Those We Love Don't Want to Heal
(they've had enough of this world -- they're ready to leave)

e encounter quite a number of cases where a relative is acting on behalf of another infirm person. It could be a parent, aunt or uncle, sibling or cousin -- sometimes a friend. Often they are "acting in agency" because the person they care about is too sick too search out effective alternatives. Other times the reason is more obscure and we only find out later. The truth is, that person we are communicating with wants their loved one to get better more than they do.
Stated more bluntly, the person who "needs help" doesn't want it. They're not interested in getting cured. In fact . . . truth be told . . . they're done with this world and they're ready to check out. Or insurmountable conditions have presented themselves such that life no longer makes sense or seems worth defending.
This, of course, makes our job more difficult, if not irrelevant. Nonetheless, it is surprisingly common.

I lost three close friends in 2019.
All of them men.
All of them with cases that were highly treatable -- in fact, I'll go so far as to say readily curable.
All of them highly accomplished in their work and celebrities in their field.
All of them influential in my life and in the lives of many thousands of others who knew them not nearly as well as I did.
The world is full of people who tend towards suicide -- in part because they find no reason or purpose for being in this world. Knowing that this is the basis of depression and other serious mental conditions, Victor Frankl, M.D. -- author of Man's Search for Meaning, founded Logotherapy, the "third Viennese school of psychotherapy." But these men didn't need validation. They weren't looking for meaning or purpose because their success defined them. They weren't at the beginning or middle of their careers. They were at the end. They didn't simply make enormous contributions to their respective fields. They refined them.
And therein lies the reason I'm writing this article today. As I make clear in the closing chapter of my last book, Black Salve, the battle against degenerative disease begins in the mind. It is a battle that cannot be won without the will to win. No --- let me go one step farther. It is a battle that is less likely to be won if one cannot acquire the faith to accept that the battle is already won. Below I provide three cautionary tales about remarkable people who choose not to engage in that battle. They had the wherewithal to do so but chose not to. In each case, they turned down not only my assistance, but the recommendations of orthodox practitioners they had consulted. The exception being pain medication.
I'll cover them in the order in which they passed this past year.

Michel Blanchard was a celebrated model, fitness trainer, and consultant. I first met him in 2011 when he made the decision to move to Ecuador from Palm Springs, California. By that time, Michel -- then 45 -- had already left behind a ten year career as one of the world's busiest underwear models, and was enjoying a more laid back lifestyle as an interior designer. (Michel was also a graduate of the famous Parsons School of Design in New York.)
In the 1990's, Michel posed for Calvin Klein and 40 other international manufacturers and marketers of men's underwear, using the assigned modeling name, "Mitch Blanchard." He worked for Elite Model Management and travelled around the world, going from one photo session to another. He worked constantly with little interruption in his scheduling. Fast forward to 2011, gone were the days when Michel was paid $2,000 per modeling session plus royalties on re-published shots. Still -- he had a sense of body sculpting that supported his work as a trainer in the States, where he charged $300 per hour before he made the decision to move to South America.
In January, 2018, I asked Michel to be my personal trainer, because I had managed -- over a period of years of self-neglect -- to get horribly out of shape. My thinking was that if I could end up looking even 20% as "well sculpted" as Michel was, I'd feel much better about myself. Michel agreed and thereafter we began a kind of thirteen month collaboration, which I enjoyed before his departure. We were even working with a doctor specializing in stem cell technology to open a clinic here in Ecuador, which would also employ his extensive knowledge of body sculpting and anti-aging techniques.
Sometime in the summer of 2018, Michel was in a hurry, running down a flight of stairs, when he tripped. This resulted in a leg injury that further caused a venal thrombosis above the right knee. As months passed, the leg got worse, and the thrombosis led to an open wound that would not heal. His doctors initially recommended a complex surgery to -- in laymans' terms -- rewire his "plumbing." In preparation for the surgery, they put him on blood thinners.

By this time, Michel and I had been training an average of six days a week for well over a year. In late February, 2019, Michel woke up in a pool of blood as a vein popped while he was sleeping. When I saw him later that day, he had just gotten back from a clinic, to which he had been rushed. He told me rather insouciantly, "A lost a lot of blood today. If this happens again, I probably won't make it."
Sometime in the early morning hours of Monday, March 5, 2019, Michel started to bleed again. I wasn't there, so I can only surmise from the official reports. I didn't find out what happened until the following day. Michel died in his apartment -- alone. He must have made at least some attempt to stop the bleeding. I surmised this much from the location of the blood stains throughout his apartment. He was 53.
The part that is relevant to this essay is that only after Michel passed, I learned from a relative that in January, Michel had been given the option of having his lower leg amputated. In fact, his doctors insisted that this was the only way that they could reasonably insure his survival.
Michel's response was unequivocal: "I'd rather die than spend the rest of my life with a missing leg."

He was an amazing human being.
He chose how he wanted to live -- without compromise.
He chose how he wanted to die -- without compromise.
And he taught his friends how to deal with acceptance.

Among my more controversial friends, George Green, was in a league by himself -- (here's a YouTube sample). George had associated with some of the most powerful people in Washington, and in the mid-70's he was asked by U.S. Federal Reserve Bank official, Paul Volcker, to manage the financial side of the campaign of U.S. presidential candidate, Jimmy Carter -- who was already assured victory. According to George, all major world leaders are chosen by a very structured world Elite -- no one is the product of unpredictable elections. That's an illusory common narrative.
I first heard of George on an episode of Coast-to-Coast in April, 2004. We met in April, 2007, and stayed in contact for years. In fact, in 2008, when he kept an apartment in Cuenca, Ecuador, I had the keys to his apartment, so I could maintain it in his absence. In early 2012, I spent the majority of my time at a speaking engagement at Madre Tierra in Vilcabamba, trading notes with George -- my comments relating to revelations "received" during ayahuasca sessions and George's comments relating to things that were communicated to him during his "extraterrestrial" exchanges.
Sometime in 2017 George learned that he had cancer. Strangely, he did not seek my help, though I offered it. He did not progress far down the conventional route, either. I learned through a mutual friend that he simply wanted to leave. He felt he had done what he was meant to do in this world and it was his time to departure.
He had no desire to stay. His last days were spent communicating with his vast array of interdimensional contacts -- who assured him that everything was set for him to transition to "the other side."
George passed on June 21, 2019 at a time of his choosing -- or as one mutual friend observed, "Yeah, leave it to George to check out on the summer solstice."

Patrick was a an extraordinary inventor, author, and thinker. His genius manifested early. A child prodigy, Patrick was an inventor at the age of 8, and in 1962, at the age of 17, he was featured in Life Magazine for his patented Neurophone, an electrical device that actually improves IQ. His life's work is best summed up in the documentary, The Flanagan Experiments. Like myself, he has a Wikipedia bio that not only downplays his life's work but is scandalous in its treatment of his accomplishments.
Although I was aware of Patrick's work in the mid-70's, at which time he popularized the concept of "Pyramid Power," and I was aware of his work in the 90's on "megahydrates," I never thought we'd meet.
Cathryn and I first met Patrick, and his wife, Stephanie, in 2015 when they came to Ecuador. We spent many hours together before they moved four hours south of us to the fabled village of Vilcabamba, Ecuador. After that we stayed in close touch via internet phone, but not as frequently.
Patrick learned of the extent of his cancer issues even before coming to South America. Of course, Patrick and Stephanie kept the secret from the rest of the world, including Patrick's legions of customers and fans. Only Patrick's close friends knew of the extent of the problem. Like George Green, he wasn't interested in either conventional cancer treatment or alternative remedies. I gave products to Stephanie to administer to Patrick, but she said he wasn't interested in taking anything. He just wanted things to take their "natural course."
In the end, Patrick settled on pharmaceutical-grade pain killers.
He transitioned on December 19, 2019.


I can honestly say that despite the hardships I've had to go through as a truth-seeker and truth-teller, I have been graced by a series of amazing friendships and acquaintenances. The better ones are those that deeply impact our lives and make our journey more insightful, eventful, and transformative. As we seek to repay them in gratitude, however, we must always respect their wishes and limits. Or as it says in the serenity prayer, it comes down to "(accepting) the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and (the) wisdom to know the difference."

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