Human Resonances
I had been starved for Bondo during my grieving process, but what if intimacy isn't kinky — but planetary?
At 3:28 am, I woke from a deep sleep when the Thunderstorm Early Warning System went off. Miko, my 20-pound inheritance from Karen, frantically sounded the alarm.
“Miko! What the hell is going on?”
I forgot about Miko’s psychic talents until BOOM!! — the mother of all storms hit the cabin.
It was day two of Solstice week, my first time in six months to spend significant time with humans.
I didn’t tell Julie, Carole Anne, or Suzy, that I was desperate for Bondo, but they knew. We were old friends who were all in for some Bondo.
Solstice week was a chance for Brujo to revel in his “totality of self.” When people asked this widower how he was doing (like always), I could now smirk, “Conservation of angular momentum has changed my life.” Henny Youngman would have been proud.
Usually, I program my dinner parties, seminars, and events, but in our Solstice week Bondo laboratory, I jettisoned the script. “Prepare for five days of creative hanging out,” I told everyone. More potent than a seminar, creative hanging out involves openness, spontaneity, curiosity, and harnessing the heart. Making something out of nothing is the advanced course.
Beyond the auto body filler, Bondo describes the capacity to form and maintain intimate relationships. (Before you run to Wikipedia, I coined the term.)
This being a laboratory, I boiled Bondo down to four ingredients:
Connection — The deep sense of being on the same team. In Bondo, a shared guidance steers the ship so that decisions flow effortlessly.
Conversation — Call and response build substance. Remember “Hi dee hi dee hi dee hi?” Unlike “communication,” conversation is always two-way.
Caring — This is no different than the timeless attachment a mother has for her child. In Bondo, your beloveds live in your heart, outside of time.
Curiosity — In true Bondo, you crank up your level of interest to not take your friend or partner for granted. Being attentive is how we grow closer. My friend Penny remarked, “I get the first three, but number four is hard. Maybe, you really don’t want to know who this person is I married.”
Nietzsche recognized the curiosity problem when he wrote:
"Up to now, women have been treated by men like birds... something which man must lock up so that it does not fly away." ~Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
The four C’s also apply to dogs; mine desperately needed some Bondo.
“Miko, get down! Everything’s gonna be okay.” FLASH-CRACKLE-BOOM!
Sleep wasn’t happening with Miko shaking, so I reflexively clicked on Facebook, which algorithmically suggested I join “Awakened Souls Dating & Relationship.” I’m not dating, but in a lightning storm, all bets are off.
I scrolled past the lonely hearts selling their “awakeness” until I spotted a crazy-color spectrograph with the headline:
“The CRAZIEST Schumann Resonances yet!”
Who’s this guy Schumann? How does a resonance get crazy? Everyone was freaking out that the normally restrained measurement bands on the left suddenly catapulted into the space-alien sacred geometry on the right. I read the comments:
“We have been freed from lower energies; much higher frequencies are coming in!”
“CRAAZZYY off the charts! Explains why we are feeling such intense chakra energies.”
“The earth is shifting... which is why it's Spiking... the Great Awakening!”
I could dismiss the crazy talk, but not the diagram. The spectrograph was from a reporting station in Tomsk, Russia, in Siberia — hardly a hotbed for the new age.
I headed to Wikipedia to learn that the Schumann Resonances describe electromagnetic waves surrounding the planet at particular frequencies. They were mathematically predicted by Winfried Otto Schumann in 1952 — hardly a new ager.
What’s a resonance?
If you blow across the lip of a wine bottle, the air molecules vibrate in the bottle’s cavity to produce sound waves — a mellow tone of 114 Hz for an empty bottle of Cabernet (114 waves per second). A Coke bottle has a higher pitch.
Like a giant donut, the ionosphere also forms a cavity surrounding the Earth that stretches over 300 kilometers into space. There’s no bottle to blow, but lightning discharges from thousands of thunderstorms to provide the force — each strong enough to explode an oak tree. Approximately 50 bolts of lightning strike per second, and many near our cabin!
“Miko, you’re okay… it’s just a little rain….” BOOM!
The wine bottle makes a rich low note at 114 Hz, but imagine the ionosphere as a big bottle that resonates at approximately 8 Hz (Not sound waves, but electromagnetic waves similar to light). To get a feel for 8 Hz, search the web for an online tone generator and play some low tones. Even with a stereophile sound system, you can’t hear much below 20 hz, but you can feel it. The planet bathes in the ionosphere like an electromagnetic bath.
Here’s where it gets interesting.
In our Solstice week Bondo lab, we studied how to slow down our brain waves through meditation to reach a nice alpha state.
And what are alpha waves?
The electrical rhythms in our brain range are divided into five bands associated with our mental states: delta, theta, alpha, beta, and gamma.
The Schumann Resonances are also divided into five bands. You can see these white bands on the spectrograph at 7.8, 14.1, 20.3, 26.4, and 32.5 Hz.
Here’s the kicker: The brain's alpha waves and the planet's Schumann Resonance vibrate at the same 8 Hz rate. The much-vaunted alpha state is harmonious with the vibration of the planet.
We evolved on Earth bathed in this band of frequencies, and our cells depend upon it. Most brainwave activity occurs within the range of the first four Schumann resonances, ie 0-34Hz. We are synchronized to this signal. A growing body of research shows how our core brain and cellular rhythms evolved to synchronize with the Earth's pulse. In modern life, this natural electromagnetic field is swamped by EMFs from radio, wifi, radar, and now 5G mobile phones, which may be suppressing our natural immune system.
A 2017 study found seven positive emotions associated with alpha waves:
Awe, gratitude, hope, inspiration, pride, serenity, and love. Should we call them Bondo Waves?1
The lightning subsided, but I continued down the wormhole to learn more — how these natural energy fields affect the brain, heart, nervous system, cells, proteins, and even our DNA.
Researchers also found surges in these electromagnetic waves during the 9/11 attacks, the Japanese earthquake in 2011, and other catastrophic events. When Karen and I lived in Los Angeles years ago, we knew nothing of Schumann surges but joked about “earthquake weather.” On a stinky hot day, we could feel the psychic tension from smog, traffic, and societal stress build before an earthquake. No canaries are needed.
Miko went back to sleep, and I listened to the comforting sounds of rain and geese outside my window. With the mountains and national forest looming through the lake mist, I sensed the earth’s vibration.
I had been starved for Bondo during my grieving process, but what if the intimacy I sought wasn’t kinky but planetary?
What if Bondo was planetary consciousness?
The collective unconscious contains the whole spiritual heritage of mankind's evolution born anew in the brain structure of every individual. ~ Carl Jung
Once you consider Jung, the wormhole deepens. Laying in bed, I stumbled upon a scientific discovery in the latest issue of The Atlantic:2
“The whole universe is humming… Every star, every planet, every continent, every building, every person is vibrating along to the slow cosmic beat.
“That’s the takeaway from yesterday’s remarkable announcement that scientists have detected a “cosmic background” of ripples in the structure of space and time.
“All of a sudden, we know that we are humming in tune with the entire universe, that each of us contains the signature of everything that has ever been. It’s all within us, around us, pushing us to and fro as we hurtle through the cosmos.
I never went back to sleep, and the rain never stopped. The radar showed the entire weather system rotating like a wormhole around our little lake — for days.
Today was the solstice, and the plan was to celebrate Karen.
First up, to make the swim across the lake to honor Karen’s determination to beat her diagnosis. The radar showed a break; we dove in (half of us naked to honor Karen and Sarah’s famous double-dare swim across the lake au natural, unbeknown to the tipsy cocktail cruisers). Suddenly the sky looked iffy — BOOM!
No lifeguards blew whistles, so we frolicked in the magical deluge of raindrops that bounced off the water like diamonds — or better, bounced like a “cosmic background of ripples in the structure of space and time.”
Next up, the tomato pie.
If this were a workbook on building Bondo, the critical exercise would be simple: Cook together.
I love pie. I also love tomatoes. Tomato pie taunts like a culinary oxymoron; yes, I know, tomatoes are of the nightshade family. They contain the alkaloid solanine, which is toxic in high concentrations, so, like a Mediterranean mescaline, tomatoes are my drug of choice.
Following an ancient hand-written recipe, we started with a stick and a half of butter, plus basil, cheeses, eggs, bacon, yogurt, and the New York Times crust. You can’t go wrong. Suzy-the-artist laid the tomato slices into a Fibonacci spiral while we prepped and assembled the ingredients. With Karen’s favorite dance number, Colors by the Black Pumas, blaring on the kitchen speakers, Carole Anne and I took a pie break to swing — in, out, around, and through. As we caught our breath, I felt safe to share, “That first night alone in bed after Karen died, my first terrifying thought was, ‘I will never dance with her again.’”
If you knew Karen’s history, it’s easy to understand why for her, dance was better than sex. Surrendering in love can take many forms, especially with a good beat.
Last dance with Karen to the Black Pumas, a few months before she passed
We ate pie with our neighbor while sharing Karen stories as the sun set behind the mountains. Earlier that day, during the storm, I discovered a slew of Karen interviews hidden in an app on my phone: The infamous blind date, how we got back together after separation, her last moments before brain surgery, her plane trip alone with massive chemo/radiation brain fog, and the one interview she didn’t want to share — the story of her going over a Big Sur waterfall on a self-styled vision quest. Naturally, that’s the one I played.
After you die, you realize that every part of your life is perfect.
“It was a lonely time in my life,” Karen recounted on the tape.
“I was constantly looking at other people and the things they had — particularly relationships. I was envious and even resentful that I was not in a committed relationship. I wanted to be married.
"It was during this time that I stumbled upon a little pamphlet titled, 'Gratitude' that profoundly affected me. I had a wake-up call. I realized I needed to change my attitude and focus on what I had instead of what I didn't have. That changed everything. I got into a place of trust, and everything shifted. I shifted into a different world.
"I had a vision of my future self — myself as an old woman. I saw myself with long white hair in a French twist looking pretty and lively. I saw my older self tell my younger self, 'Hang in there. If you only knew what was coming.'
"I quit my job at the hospital and headed to Big Sur. I lived in my Ford Falcon for a few weeks. A friend showed me how to lower the seat, lay out a piece of plywood, and form a comfortable bed. I had a Coleman stove.
"During my time in Big Sur, I lived in a place of question: Where is my spiritual home? What do I need to be doing? Who is my teacher?
"I decided to perform a cleansing ritual to find my authentic voice. I didn’t know what would happen; I was on a vision quest. I fasted for several days and then drove to a secret beach with a waterfall.
"I followed the steep, difficult trail to the beach, all the time opening myself to my question, going deeper and deeper: What is the next thing to do?
"I saw the waterfall and began to climb the slope. Once I started, it wasn’t possible to go back. It was very steep and treacherous. I’m amazed I didn’t fall. I climbed this rugged cliff full of rocks and debris, pulling myself up the hillside.
"As I climbed, I felt like a Native American on a vision quest. A vision quest is a sacred rite where you go into the wilderness seeking guidance and renewal, encounter your authentic self, and let your old self die. I had been studying the Tarot archetypes for the Inner Guide, and I connected through those archetypes. It was terrifying, but I just kept going.
"I sensed that there would be something beautiful at the top, but when I reached the top, there were lots of briars. It wasn’t pretty at all.
"But now I needed to go down. I kept asking which is the way to go? I was in this place of total surrender, asking where is my life calling me? At that moment, I found a way to surrender into the stream. I have been able to totally surrender a few times in my life, and it was quite profound. I was called to the stream, into the stream of life. But this was a real stream, and when I reclined to let go, the rushing water carried me over some rocks, and I got banged up, scraped, and scratched.
"I was pretty upset that I had gotten hurt but was also in a surrendered state. It was very similar to the place of trust I experienced with the brain tumor. On one level, I’m embarrassed that it happened, that I got hurt, but on another level, it took profound courage. That moment symbolized my seriousness toward the spiritual path.
"The sun was starting to go down, and I eventually reached the beach. I gathered my shoes and clothes and realized I had to get out of there, or I might die from hypothermia. Plus, I was hurt and banged up. I managed to hike out even though it had become completely dark.
"I got into my car and headed to Deetjen’s Inn. There was nothing else for miles. As it turned out, Deetjen’s was closed, so I walked around the back and went to the kitchen. I found some staff who wanted to take me to the hospital. I said, no, I don’t need the hospital. I’m a nurse. Could you let me stay here? So they took me to a special room, Grandpa’s Room, the original hand-built home of the Inn's founder, Grandpa Deetjen. It was beautiful. And in that room, I saw a sculpture of a nude woman leaning back in total surrender. I saw myself in her.
"Throughout the night, people came and sat with me. They chanted at times and kept vigil. I felt held and loved, and supported. And, I felt a confirmation. These people took me in, put me in Grandpa Deetjen’s place of honor, watched after me, and cared for me.
"The next day, a friend from Santa Cruz picked me up and cared for me over the next two weeks. I realized I couldn’t reach my spiritual station myself; I needed a teacher.”
I stopped playing the tape so that my solstice crew could watch the last red rays of the sun over the hill. We were quiet. A single image from Karen’s story lingered: Laying down in that stream.
I remember nine years earlier when Karen was wheeled away into brain surgery. I took her hand as a river of energy coursed through my being, and the words spilled out, “Karen, this is crazy, but I just have to say it, whoa, I just feel so in love.”
Karen smiled at me with an other-worldly luminescence.
“Isn’t it funny,” she confided, “I feel myself entering a space I long dreamed of. When I was young, I imagined what it would be like to surrender to love without shame — a kind of freedom, to be myself without inhibition or fear.”
A couple of years later, I asked Karen if she had been scared during that moment in pre-op:
“Yes, it was scary to have brain surgery. It was also necessary. I didn’t know what might happen; it was just the journey that I was on. I was just going with it. I was completely going with it. It was like being on the whitewater rapids. I was in the boat, and I knew that if I became emotional and upset about it, that could turn the boat over and cause many more problems. So, I chose to be surrendered and relaxed, particularly with the anesthesia, because I knew that by being relaxed, it would all go better.”
I flashed forward to Karen’s final days when Bridget touched Karen’s crown chakra and encouraged her to be there. “There is a garden up there,” Bridget whispered. “Can you feel it?”
“Yes, it’s very beautiful,” Karen replied.
I strung those moments together — letting go into the waterfall on her age 28 Saturn’s Return, Karen coursing through the whitewater of brain surgery forty years later and surrendering into an inner garden during her final hours. It all seemed like preparation for the Final Act.
Karen found comfort in those waves — waves of love energy.
The breeze picked up, forming ripples on the lake. Far in the distance, we watched a beaver cut a wake across the water’s surface to mark his journey.
I walked the girls next door to their cabin with the flashlight off. I noticed a growing patch of sky open amid the rain clouds.
“Look, stars,” I said, pointing at the opening.
Everyone looked up to see a shooting star burst across the window of sky.
“That never happens,” Carole Anne remarked. “Someone in a group always misses it.”
We had one more inquiry on our final night in the Bondo lab.
Schumann Resonances, cosmic ripples, waterfalls, tomato pie, and dancing in the kitchen — how do we tie it all together?
The ah-ha was obvious — Schumann/human! The fifth ingredient is Human Resonance. Choose any description: sexual chemistry, good vibes, shared wavelength, love on the brain, synchronized heart rhythms, neural synchrony, synergistic hormones, or that love release of dopamine and norepinephrine. It’s all one thing:
Human Resonance — Bondo forms from mutual oscillation.
This sounds healy-feelie, but it’s documented. More time to oscillate = more Bondo:
A recent study out of the University of Kansas found that it takes about 50 hours of socializing to go from acquaintance to casual friend, an additional 40 hours to become a “real” friend, and a total of 200 hours to become a close friend.3
Scientists call this “interbrain synchrony”
Our brain patterns align when we think, feel, and act in response to others. Like two conga players syncing in a drum circle, neurons in two brains also fire simultaneously. More synchrony indicates a stronger relationship, especially between close friends, partners, or an effective teacher and their students.
Neuroscientists observed the interbrain synchrony by placing two subjects in brain imaging machines 130 miles apart and asking them to collaborate on a story while communicating over the Web. The fMRI machines tracked changes in blood flow throughout the brain, which correlate tightly with changes in neural activity.
Dartmouth neuroscientist Thalia Wheatley, who is working on the pioneering study, explained to Scientific American, “When we're talking to each other, we kind of create a single überbrain that isn't reducible to the sum of its parts. Like how oxygen and hydrogen combine to make water, it creates something special that isn't reducible to oxygen and hydrogen independently.”
According to the research, “This new kind of brain research might also illuminate why we don't always ‘click’ with someone or why social isolation is so harmful to physical and mental health.”4
Tell me about it.
After five days in a 750-square-foot cabin, we validated these results and are still texting throughout the day (# 2 Conversation) weeks later.
There was one bit of unfinished business — that wonky Schumann spectrograph.
Further research revealed that the “CRAAZZYY off the chart” spectrograph was bogus.
Boo, no second coming. It could have been a glitch, equipment calibration, a HAARP attack, or a spoof. No other monitoring station except Russia observed it, and they’re all looking at the same ionosphere. Adding to the intrigue, the Russian monitoring app was hacked on June 23, 2023, the same day Yevgeny Prigozhin staged a rebellion against Putin’s military.
Confused, I consulted Henny Youngman, my ever-present mentor.
“Henny, what’s going on? I woke up this morning expecting the Great Awakening, and ended with a Russian hack.”
Henny rolled his eyes and tucked his violin under his chin. “Since the beginning of time, our people looked for a golden age,” Henny explained with uncharacteristic authority. “It’s a big mess out there, so they seek a messiah. Any day, it’s just around the corner. But it’s always been a mess.”
Henny screeched his violin, then paused. “Always a mess — Hitler, Putin, Nebuchadnezzar, and don’t forget Bugsy Siegel — a Russian Jew from Brooklyn. He built the Flamingo Hotel, the first big hotel in Vegas, but he owed people for construction, the wrong people. A sniper shot him dead while he was reading the morning paper on his mistress’s beautiful couch in her Beverly Hills mansion.”
“Wow, glitz, glamour, and showgirls,” I sighed, “and boom, they shot him dead. How sad.”
“Sad for Bugsy, but I got to work on the Strip — it was my golden age!” Henny said with a crazy face.
“That’s it,” I shouted, feeling the Eureka. “There is no golden age! One person is in gold, another in bronze.” I paced and gestured. “Right now, I’m desperate for Bondo…but I’ve never felt more empowered! A man needs a woman like a fish needs… Hey, can you be in two worlds at once?”
Henny segued into “Hearts and Flowers”, then put down his violin and spoke from his heart. “Let me tell you about my uncle Moishe. He was a little soft in the head — fell off the monkey bars as a kid. So they gave him a job as the security guy outside the schul. Moishe was ecstatic, best day in his life — except he didn’t know how to do security, so the Rabbi said, ‘It’s easy. Sit here and wait for the Messiah.’”
“One Saturday, after the service, Moishe’s mom, my great aunt, was startled to see her son sitting outside the synagogue. ‘Moishe, What are you doing out here?’”
“Moishe explained, ‘The rabbi told me to sit here and wait for the Messiah.’ His mother was not buying it. ‘Wait for the Messiah? What kind of job is that?’”
“‘Well,’ Moishe said, shaking his head, ‘the pay is not so good.’ His eyes brightened, ‘But it’s steady work!’”
Henny raised his violin and butchered “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” I sat there pondering — am I in my golden age or schmolden age?
Lately, I’ve been turning to Karen when I’m in a pickle — and that’s when I remembered Karen’s famous alchemical principle:
“Things that don’t go together somehow go together.” ~ Karen Miller
https://www.diygenius.com/positive-emotions-linked-to-alpha-waves-and-meditation/
https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2023/06/universe-gravitational-waves-nanograv-discovery/674570/
https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/brain-waves-synchronize-when-people-interact/