This is Sharon’s Week 4 blog post:

MKMMA Week 4

I once heard someone tell a story about going on safari in Africa with their dad.  The trip was one of his dad’s lifelong dreams, and the story teller was in a position to make his dad’s dream come true, a trip of a lifetime.  While on safari, they learned about elephants.  They learned about how elephants are trained.  This is a story I will never forget.  Think about how massive and how powerful elephants are, and how intelligent they are.  Their memories are legendary, they have lifelong friendships.  They look out for their young and for their old.

Elephants are trained starting when they are very young.  How is an elephant trained so that they will follow the instruction of their trainer who has not nearly the strength to force an elephant to comply?  When you see an elephant at a circus or wherever, they have a little rope or string tied above their foot.  When an elephant is young, a tight band with metal spikes is fastened just above their foot.  The elephant is tied by this spiked band by a chain to some immovable object.  As you might imagine, the elephant struggles and struggles to free themselves from this cruel tether, but the restraint is engineered to withstand the strength of a young elephant.  This goes on for days.  Eventually, the young elephant ceases to struggle and gives up, spirit broken.  The elephant now moves gingerly with regard to this band to avoid the pain he experienced during his struggle in his attempt to free himself.   The elephant is now “trained”,  controlled by a simple rope tied above his foot, and despite the elephant’s superior physical strength, he remains under the control of the trainer for the rest of his life.

We have been through so much “training” and indoctrination in our lives, sometimes by the well meaning, sometimes by the not-so-well meaning.  How many of us have yet to realize we are powerful beyond our greatest imaginations, that we are restrained by a string around our ankle which we hate and fear which truly does not have the capacity to hold us, if only we would realize it.

Subby has been giving me a run for my money this week.  I feel I am running into roadblocks where none truly exist.  I have moments of discomfort and feel old patterns of behavior trying to break through.  Procrastination.  Rationalization.  Negotiation.  Yes, sloth and sloppiness.  Distraction.  Excuses.  You name it.  I will remove the string from around my ankle, I will realize my power.  I will free myself.  I can be what I will to be.

Do it now.

TERIFFIC IS IT NOT? Then like two galaxies on a collision course:




I left the following comment on her blog

Sharon, you’ve done it again. You’ve tickled my memory bone – whatever that is – and profoundly appeased my hunger to learn new stuff. Up to now, I was somewhat familiar with the results of elephant training, but not how it is administered when they are inphants. Thanks for sharing that.


Now, here’s one for you. Do you know how Circus fleas are trained? As you know, fleas are excellent jumpers. Even better than crabs. Crabs? You might ask. Yes, as my good old dad was quick to point out – especially, if circumstances dictated that an outhouse was the only place to go: “no use putting paper on the toilet seat, the crabs in here jump 50 feet!” Anyway, getting back to the fleas. First you gather up a whole slew of them, and put them in a jar, screw the lid down tightly, which, of course, has enough little holes to let the air in – but not let the fleas jump out. The fleas jump and jump and jump trying to get out, but all they get is a massive migraine, very tired legs, and a neck – already too short to begin with – painfully, even shorter with the vertebral bodies all scrunched together. Very soon, you can unscrew that lid, and the fleas will no longer attempt to jump out. Voila ! You now have a jar full of trained circus fleas.



Since it is not entirely appropriate to interject this kind of levity in response to your story – a story that ends with such an excellent metaphorical explanation of the thing holding down all the people (well, most of them) in this once great nation. It seems a perfect time to mention what I have so often had the intention. There is actually a very simple way to almost instantly remove the parasitical plague that continues to turn people into the “sheeple” that you have alluded to. Very briefly, it is so powerful and effective that it has been kept secret for over 3000 years by those ruling over us.

Although I have been a proponent of this “secret” for almost a decade now, and can easily speak at length about it, I’m thinking you might be curious enough to spend the 15 minutes required to see and hear the person, who found this miraculous treasure, describe it for you. Go to:

and you will see



And when I said, Sharon, you’ve done it again, I didn’t fully realize until now how much truth in those words there would pan out to be. Up to now, you’ve had major influence impacting a couple of my blog posts this year – one of them, in particular – so, this will make it three. I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberty of re-blogging what you have so skillfully written, followed by this comment of mine, which I think – no, scratch that, this is “no opinions week;” which I ask don’t you think, fit together like a hand in a custom made mitten? –> My MKMMA Week Five blog post.:)

Danke! Danke! Danke! And I will leave it at that. I’m already teetering on the edge (can you feel it? Can you sense it?), and one more Danke could easily send me into another episodic expression of the Rhyme Disease I’ve previously spoken. Oh dear, there I have gone and done it. Such a hungry little beast, pardon me, while I stop and feed what it needs until the spell is broken.


Hear the sledges with the bells, silver bells!

What a world of merriment, their melody foretells!

How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle in the icy air of night,

While the stars that over sprinkle all the heavens,

Seem to twinkle with a crystalline delight!

Keeping time, time, time in a sort of Runic rhyme,

To the tintinnabulation that so musically swells,

From the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells!

From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells!

Ooooo, that’s better. No matter how bad the exacerbation, a few lines written by someone else, in this case, Edgar Allen Poe, often provides instant relief – especially, when there is seemingly no connection with the context provoking the infection. Even though they may be imperfectly said, as long as they originated from another person’s head– Stomps it out like the foot of an angry elephant landing on a rat carrying the bubonic plague. 🙂 – Which reminds me:


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