Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Humor and Magic Combines

Do you need a break today? Do you want to have a good laugh and just see something that makes you smile? If you would then click on the movie below and you might just get your wish!!! Very cool movie that you might find funny!! http://www.koreus.com/files/200505/men-in-coats.html Mystically yours, Doc Magi

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 10:47:57 PM in Magic (2) | Comments (0)

One Key to Success

Many people think that sometimes it is something difficult that needs to happen in order to become successful. Let me say that sometimes the biggest difficulty that anyone has is just being responsible for the issue in the first place. So many times it is so easy for us to put the blame on something else for the reason for our issues or problems. I will let you in on a secret here. The only power any issue or problem has is the power you give it in the first place. How can any outside force effect you if it is not a physical effect unless you first allow it to. Just take the statement "That made me mad." Truthfully, it was not "that" which made you mad it was you that allowed you to be mad in the first place. Would it of made you mad at any other time or was it just at this time? Why did you choose to become mad? Take Control of Your Life in Everything you Do!!! Mystically yours, Doc Magi

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 10:32:02 PM in Neuro Linguistic Programming (10) | Comments (0)

Monday, June 27, 2005

Blog Shares

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Posted by Michael G. Holt at 3:03:37 PM in Personal Items of Non-Interest (2) | Comments (0)

Sunday, June 26, 2005

Does Hypnosis Work

Many people come into the office and ask us what is hypnosis really and how can it help us. Let me be honest here and state that there is no real explanation for how hypnosis really works.  There are lots of assumptions and some will even go into great detail to attempt to prove them. You will hear about different consciousness's and you will hear about scientific proof that it does work but honestly no-one can explain how or why really.  We all have our own beliefs and ways that we look at it.

The truth of the matter is that we as a human race have a great deal of control over who we are and what we can do. Let me ask you this simple question in attempt to relay an idea to you.  How can someone get sick by taking a medicine that does not have any side-effects at all because it really is not a medicine just sugar water? 

When the medical community does studies on drugs how come half of them are given a placebo (sugar water) and not told of it and the other half is given the drug?  The answer is simple really because our imagination and mind can create things to happen on its own without the medicine or drug.

When the study is over the amazing thing is not that the half that took the drug were effected in a negative or positive way, but the real question is how come the other half that did not take the drug was also effected?  What happened to them and how could that of happened? 

A friend of mine always tells me that what the mind believes the body can achieve. 

So what does that mean to us?  Simple truth is that we hypnotize ourselves in believing that we can not do things.  We inform our body that we are getting sick and we get sick.  We tell ourselves that something hurts and you know what it hurts then.  If you keep telling yourself that you are something, sooner or later you will become that thing. 

So in the end hypnosis is harnessing the powers that we were given to deprogram ourselves in believing we can not do something and also to allow ourselves the ability to make changes without the use of drugs or other invasive procedures. In the end like most things in life it is up to you to make something work.  A Hypnotherapist does nothing more than provide you the tools in order to do it.  They will use their training and experience to guide you down the right path but it depends on you if you want to make it work or not. The real secret to hypnosis is just being willing to accept that things can change.

When you see the changes that I have seen people make with the help of hypnosis you can  not help but to be in awe of the power of the mind that we all possess.

Mystically yours,

Doc Magi

Posted by Michael at 3:38:01 PM in Hypnosis (24) | Comments (0)

The Cracked Pot (Story)

 The Cracked Pot

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole, which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water.

At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily,
With the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his house.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect for the task for which it was created, but the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish, only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself,
and I want to apologize to you. I have been able to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the pot said.

The water bearer said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path. "Do you notice that there are flowers only on your side of the path but not on the other pot's side?

That is because I have always known about your flaw. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you have watered them. For two years, I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house."

Moral: Each of us has our own unique flaws. We are all cracked pots
but it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. Take each person for what they are, and look for the good in them. There is a lot of good out there. Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape.

Remember to appreciate all the different people in your life! Or as I
like to think of it, if it hadn't been for the crackpots in my life, it
would have been pretty boring and life certainly would have been much less interesting...

Thank you, all my crackpot friends . . .
-Anon-

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 3:12:01 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

Reading a Book

READING A BOOK

Between the covers of a book
a world can open wide
ní let you enter briefly
to the word that lie inside.

For a chance of adventure
or information at your finger tips;
itís a place for you to visit
while your mind makes the trips.

First you have to be able to read
to experience the joy, first hand,
to ride with the ďOld Man and The SeaĒ
or fly with ďPeter Pan.Ē

I admire the writers talent
as the words bounce off the page.
They bring pleasure ní knowledge
to people of every age.

They awaken feelings of love
of hate, dread or fear;
combined with compassion,
as each chapter draws near.

They stir up hidden things
that we thought [only I could feel.]
They put them down on paper
ní made us feel normal ní real.

A book has two opinions
either you like it or not,
as you leaf thru the pages
till ďThe EndĒ makes you stop.

The authorís choice of text
be it fiction or plain fact,
makes me often wish that I
had been the one, that said that!

MOM
 
Copywrite 2005 Doc Magi Productions, Inc

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 3:08:17 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

What it means to Give

What It Means To Give

A gift given in love,
means a gift with no strings.
A way of saying to the receiver,
you're my everything.
A gift of time is special,
when someone needs a hand.
It says to the receiver,
let me help if I can.

A gift can be monetary,
if given from the heart.
It says to the receiver,
I'm glad to add my part.
A gift can include prayers,
said for someone's concern.
It says to the receiver,
this time it is God's turn.

A gift can be an ear,
that hears without asking.
It says to the receiver,
your words will find compassion.
A gift can be friendship,
in good times n' in bad.
It says to the receiver,
I care if you're happy or sad.

But if the gift is given
with a payback in mind.
It says to the receiver,
we are even at this time.
And if the gift came about
from guilt, as some do.
It says to the receiver,
you know, I didn't want to.

A gift should always be,
just a gift as one perceives.
It says to everyone involved,
"It's better to give .... than receive."
 
MOM
 
Copywrite 2005 Doc Magi Productions, Inc 

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 3:06:24 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

Those Silly Things

THOSE SILLY THINGS

Those silly things that people say,
Youíve heard them, havenít you?
Like answering your telephone
in the wee hours after two.

Ní hearing, ďIs your husband in?Ē
Now where else would he be?
So I tell them I donít expect him
till a little after three.

I feel my way back to bed
ní nudge my husband awake
ní tell him he missed an important call
cause he stayed out so late.

Yes, people say such silly things
ní you hear them every day,
like the question, ďAre you back?Ē
when you return from a holiday.

You just answer ďNo,Ē to it
ďIím here only spiritually,
I thought it would surprise you some,
if you got a look at me..Ē

Or youíre stuck in an elevator
ní waiting for help to come.
The first thing that you hear is
ďWhere are you?Ē from someone.

You answer, ďIn an elevator.Ē
You hear, ďAre you stuck?Ē
While answering ďYesĒ to it,
you wonder if this is luck!

The reply to you is typical
as nerves are beyond repair.
Itís ďStay right there ní donít move,
till we get you out of there!Ē

Then when poor Henry died
at an age of 92
Gathered at the Funeral Home
were some old friends, he knew.
One gazed at poor old Henry
wiped a tear ní did relate,
ďI donít think I can recall
when Henry looked so great.Ē

MOM
 
Copywrite 2005 Doc Magi Productions, Inc

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 3:04:32 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

This One's on the House

THIS ONEíS ON THE HOUSE

Welcome to the place, my friend
tell me whatíll you have?
You look like youíve just lost
the only friend you had.

But you sure did pick the right place
if youíre trying to forget.
So join all my regulars
ní Iíll fill you in a bit.

If money is your problem
than youíre not alone.
ďExcuse me just a minute,
while I get that telephone.

NoÖheís not here tonight,
but Iíll tell him that you calledĒ
Now, where was I, friend
yesÖmy regulars, I recall.

That lady at the end of the bar
has been married several times;
She still sits ní drinks
true happiness she canít find.

That man beside her has a wife
who waits each night at home.
She thinks that heís faithful
ní out drinking all alone.

The guy in that checkered shirt
keeps everyone laughing here.
Itís sad the alcoholic
covers his life with beer.

This poor ďLady of the EveningĒ
is looking for a better life,
but she wonít find it in here
among this grief ní strife.

Ní the man that entered the bathroom
lives on Welfare everyday
ní you will only see him here
when he collects his pay.


Those children playing outside,
are the coupleís at the table.
Heís not a devoted father
hers is a Common Wife label.

The one thatís talking to his friend
about the great time he has fishing,
never worked much in his life
cause he lacks the ambition.

His friend there beside him
is a great one for a fight.
Thereís illness in his family
ní nothing turns out right.

My bragger here that ordered
gets louder with each drink.
He says he can do so much
ní never stops to think.

And me, I work here extra
afraid of middle age setting in;
my wife has gone ní left me.
NOW WHATíS YOUR PROBLEM, FRIEND?

MOM
Copywrite 2005 Doc Magi Productions, Inc

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 2:59:48 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

Dump the Plump

DUMP THE PLUMP

It is well into the 8th week
of dieting away the pounds.
My zipper isnít quite as tight.
My bulges are less, Iíve found.

My jeans no longer hug my {blank}
ní are even loose in places.
My buttonholes are all frayed out
from the strain of over-weighted.

My pockets have never held a thing
cause my fingers wouldnít fit in-
due to the skin tight pants
over the layer of fat within.

Now, I can carry a hanky
ní the keys to my car.
I can even shove my whole hand in
if I wanted to go that far.

I still crave that bit of chocolate
ní things not good for me.
Iíve drank a ton on water,
made a thousand trips to pee.

I passed up all the delicious stuff
to keep the pounds away.
All the rest, tasted like sawdust;
{the price a dieter has to pay.}

But was it really worth it,
to shed those extra pounds?
To drop a size in my clothes,
because thereís less of me around.

To see the envy on the faces
of those that came up short.
To know that when they speak of Fat.
my name wonít be brought forth.

Oh yes, it was really worth it
to be able to stand up tall,
ní feel good about myself
yet to the world, look small.

MOM
 
Copywrite 2005 Doc Magi Productions, Inc

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 2:56:24 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

Another Thanksgiving

ANOTHER THANKSGIVING

Way back before I was born
in 1864 to be exact;
President Lincoln signed into being
ďThanksgiving DayĒ for a fact.

It was to be a celebrated time
of gratitude ní thanks.
The sharing of a good harvest
with others-no matter their ranks.

A table would stretch long with turkey
ní wild life; from hunters bow.
Squashes, tatter, lots of vegetables
all lined up in different rows.

All kinds of berries could be there
with fruits polished bright as mirror.
Breads still hot out of the ovens,
as each guest gathers near.

More gifts of tasty homemade pies
custards, puddings ní the likes,
would find a place at the festive table
much to everyoneís delight.

Hand churned butter along with cream
would adorn each visitorís station,
with large drinks of apple cider
in various stages of fermentation.

The list of food would go on ní on
along with the giving ní the sharing.
Each one would find a place to set,
without thought of what each were wearing.

Hand ní hand, they would bow their heads
ní together ďThank God for their food.íí
To complain about anything else
at this point would be rude.

A Thanksgiving Day, like no other
ní for some it may be the last.
Let us all be a little more grateful
than we have been in the past.

MOM

Copywrite 2005 Doc Magi Productions, Inc

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 2:54:55 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

Through Open Eyes

Through Open Eyes

My little boy, so young ní innocent
came up to me ní said,
ďDaddy, can I sit on your lap,
before itís time for bed?Ē

I just got him settled there
when I heard whatís on his mind,
the question Iíd always dreaded;
ďDaddy, whatís it like to be blind?Ē

ďYouíve never really seen me,
so you wouldnít know my face,
or the color of my hair,
or see the pictures that I trace.Ē

ďIsnít it hard Daddy,
finding something to do
when Mommy ní I are busy
or far away from you?Ē

I took him by the hand
ní choose my words carefully.
Then I covered up his eyes
So he couldnít see.

I placed him on the floor
directly beside my chair,
but kept my arm around him
so heíd know that I was there.

I answered, ďI know the color of your hair
itís blond, your Mommy said,
to me it feels so warm ní soft
like sunshine on your head.Ē

ďAnd Iíd know you apart
from any other boy,
by the sound of your step
ní the laughter in your joy.Ē

ďI see you with my ears, son
my hands ní my heart.Ē
ďItís like you knowing that I am near
although the room is dark.Ē

ďAnd I think I can see better
than I would with my eyes.Ē
ďIn my mind there are pictures
that eyes canít visualize.Ē

ďI see people as they are,
not clouded by beauty:
ní that makes me only blind,
it doesnít mean that I canít see.Ē

ďThereís probably a lot of things
that Iíd miss everyday
if not for you and Mommy
showing me the way.Ē

Iíve covered up your eyes son
not to put you in the dark:
but to help you see a little
with some of your other parts.Ē

ďYouíll probably never understand
anything that I have said,
so get back up on my lap;
before itís time for bed.Ē

He climbed up so quickly
ní his lips touched my ear,
with the breath of a whisper
that only I could hear.

He said, ďDaddy before Mommy comes,
Iíll keep my eyes closed tight;
so you ní I can see who loves
each other more tonight.Ē

His mother came ní got him
When he was fast asleep;
ní kissed away the tears of joy
that had fallen on my cheek.

MOM

Copywrite 2005 Doc Magi Productions, Inc

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 2:52:46 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

If You'd Let Me

If Youíd Let Me

Just yesterday, Daddyís asking
ďWhat do you think youíll be
when youíre all grown up,
big as your Mommy ní me?Ē

I told him there was lots of things
That I might like to do;
One was being a Policeman,
All dressed up in blue.

A Policeman helps out people
Ní checks out cars, you know;
But you ní Mommy wonít let me
Get anywhereís near the road.

Or I could be a Fireman
All dressed up in red;
Ní rescue all the people
Thatís asleep in their bed.

I could climb up those ladders
That go up higher ní higher;
But you and Mommy wonít let me
Get anywhereís near a fire.

Or I could be a Doctor,
All dressed up in white;
Ní give shots to the people
Thatís sick ní donít feel right.

Iíd spend my days in surgery
Cutting out the rotten part;
But you ní Mommy wonít let me
Play with anything thatís sharp.

Or I could be a Banker
All dressed up in green;
Ní lend out the dollars,
To those that are in need.

Iíd lock it up at night
To keep it safe from danger;
But you ní Mommy wonít let me
Take money from a stranger.

Or I could be the President
Of these United States,
Ní live in the White House;
Ní eat off golden plates.

Iíd make all kinds of speeches,
Just like the other guys;
But you ní Mommy wonít let me
Tell a little white lie.

I canít be a Protester,
Marching for right or wrong,
Cause you ní Mommy wonít let me,
Ever leave the lawn.

I canít be a Farmer
Spreading manure as I see fit,
Cause you ní Mommy wonít let me,
Use the other word for it.

Itís kind of hard to grow up
When youíre just a little kid;
Cause you n Mommy wonít let me
Make the mistakes that you both did.

MOM

 

Copywrite 2005 Doc Magi Productions, Inc

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 2:50:57 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

Another Empty House

Another Empty House

I was playing in my sandbox
That Daddy made for me
When I saw a bird on the ground,
Sitting under a tree.

I ran over ní picked it up
While it shivered ní shook;
Then took it in to Mommy,
For hers to have a look.

Ní Mommy said, ďItís a Robin
Ní it must be very sick.Ē
So her puts it in a box
For Daddy to look at it.

I called to my friend Johnny
For him to see it too,
Ní both of us just watched it
To see what it would do.

We fed it a little water,
But it just wouldnít drink;
Kind of fluttered in the corner
Then its head began to sink.

I hollered again to Mommy
That it was on its side.
Mommy took one look at it,
Ní said, ďYour Robin died.Ē

Her said that she was sorry,
Ní hopes I understand
That even birds ní animals
Can die, as is Godís plan.

But I think that God could wait
Till my Daddy makes it home.
Maybe he could save that Robin,
With us helping him alone.

Ní if that Robinís died and gone
To Heaven like her say;
Then how come I still see it?
Maybe it sleeps that way!

The Mommy says, ďRemember Dear,
The light thatís in the hall;
That we leave on every night
So none of us will fall?

Now ní then the house itís in,
That letís that little light shine,
Gets very old ní tired
Ní wonít light from time to time.Ē

Mommy gets a new house
Called a bulb for it to live;
But you can see its old house,
Tho no more light it gives.Ē

Sort of like, God took the light
From your little Robin dear;
Ní took it up to Heaven,
But left the house down here.

Daddyís canít fix everything
Even tho Daddyís try.
Mommies are the best thing
To wipe a tear, so cry.Ē

So run ní find a little box
Ní weíll bury it by the tree
Where you first saw your Robin
Before bringing it to me.

Johnny ní I just dug the hole
Ní placed the Robin there.
Then I got to thinking
That we should say a prayer.

So bow your head Johnny
Ní Mommy Öyou do too,
Cause praying over all houses
Ainít an easy thing to do.

Dear God,

In this shady spot,
Is what a Robin left for me.
Just tell him in his new house,
That his old oneís under this tree.

Ní tonight when I say my prayers
Ní bless my soul to keep;
Maybe you should remember the light,
Thatís shinning in me so deep.

Ní remember Johnnies little light,
Ní Mommies ní Daddies too;
Cause itíd make it awful dark down here,
If they all lived with you.

Amen

Then I said to Mommy,
Do you think that God heard?
Her said, Yes my dear, he did.
He heard every beautiful word.

MOM
 
Copywrite 2005 Doc Magi Productions, Inc

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 2:48:19 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

Potty Training

 Potty Training

I guess everybody in the world,
Knows what Iím going thru.
I guess that Iíll be alright,
If I remember all the rules.

Iíve got new training pants,
That Mommy puts on me;
Ní her says to keep them dry
Ní tell her when I have to pee.

You should see her watching me,
Her follows me all the time.
How am I suppose to forget,
When herís right here to remind.

Daddy laughs at Mommy,
Ní says ďWhoís training who?Ē
But then Daddy watches some,
When Mommyís too busy to.

Mommy keeps on asking me,
Does I have to go?
I just keep real busy,
Ní shake my head ní say no.

Then the first thing you know,
Those training pants are wet.
This shakes up my poor Mommy.
Her missed again, I bet.

But she takes me by the hand,
Ní itís back to that pot.
Ní I have to sit a while
On that thing; likely as not.

I just hate this partÖ.
Sitting ní trying to go.
Sometimes I fall off to sleepí
It makes me tired, you know.

Sometimes, I get up
Ní looks around the place.
Sometimes itís okay, maybe not,
You can tell by Mommyís face.

Training is hard on Mommy,
Maybe Iím too young to start.
Her donít like playing in the toilet;
I think thatís the best part.

Thereís just one little thing
That I donít seem to know.
I know when I went,
But not when Iíve got to go.

I have to already start,
Before I runs to Mommy.
N Ď I try to hold it, so it will stop
But it never works for me.

But her puts me on the pot;
Cause thatís what Mommies do.
They donít worry about rule number one,
But they do about number two.

M.O.M.

Copywrite 2005 Doc Magi Productions, Inc

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 2:44:38 PM in Poetry (20) | Comments (0)

NLP Definition

What is Neuro Linguistic Programming?  Lets just break it down to see if it makes a little more sense. 

First of all Neuro - Having to do with the nervous system which also could be represented as the mind.  Not the organ called the brain but the concept of the mind itself which includes the brain. Look at the function of the mind as all of the neuro pathways and nerve endings and how they connect together to form a conciousness or awareness of your surroundings. We must look at all the intake devices that the body has in this as well.  Feelings (external and internal), Smells, Tastes, Visual (sight), and also Auditory (sound).

Second part is Linguistics - Having to do with communication or language as a whole.  Not just what we might say verbally but also what we might say non-verbally.  Every action, moment and expression is communication to others and yourself.  One other aspect of this is just not what communication is done externally but also what communication is created internally.

Last is Programming - How we utilize repeated actions into programs in how we conduct our life. How to change this programming to become more successful or change behaviours in ourselves and others. How to identify and mimic successful programming to achieve specific and desired outcomes.

Putting this all together NLP allows us to better understand the language of the mind in reaching our desired goals and to make change.

 

Mystically yours,

Doc Magi

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 1:30:05 PM in Neuro Linguistic Programming (10) | Comments (0)

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Welcome to my new Blog

I just had the good fortune of finding this new blog site for Hypno's.  Soon I will be updating this with tons of ramblings as soon as M allows me to.

Mystically yours,


Doc Magi

Posted by Michael G. Holt at 8:00:54 PM in Personal Items of Non-Interest (2) | Comments (0)