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How I Cured Morgellons
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John W / Mel John Waiveris - Invisible Gold, LLC. <john@invisiblegold.com> 4/13/2026 6:58:04 AM MST |
Mel of the Mountain They say you don’t just find the mountain— you only reach it when you’re ready. And on a windy afternoon, somewhere above the clouds where WiFi fears to tread, Mel stood at the summit. Robe flowing, staff in hand, sandals gripping the rock like they’d signed a long-term lease, he looked out over the valleys below. The people had gathered. Not by invitation—but by instinct. They came tired. They came foggy. They came carrying the strange, modern afflictions of the world—too much noise, too much sugar, too much sitting, too much everything. And then… there was Mel. A man who had survived two plane crashes (one of which he swears he walked away from “because lunch wasn’t ready yet”), been bitten by things that would make most people Google themselves into panic, and somehow still moved like a guy late for a pickup basketball game. He tapped his staff once. The mountain went quiet. “Alright,” he said, adjusting his black-rimmed glasses like a professor who had seen some things. “Let’s not overcomplicate this.” The crowd leaned in. “It’s not one thing,” he continued. “It’s the sum of the parts.” He paced slowly, like he had all the time in the world—because, frankly, he might. “Eat better. Move more. Get outside. Sleep like you mean it. Stop putting garbage in your body—unless it’s dessert.” A murmur of relief rippled through the crowd. Mel raised a finger. “Dessert,” he said, “is the one flaw. Without it… I’d probably be immortal.” A few people laughed. A few took notes. One guy quietly dropped a vending machine snack into his pocket like it might disappear on its own. Mel continued: “You don’t need a miracle. You need consistency. You don’t need a guru—” (pauses, looks down at his robe) “—well… maybe a little guidance.” The wind picked up, dramatically on cue. Somewhere in the distance, a hawk cried. Or maybe it was just a guy realizing he’d been overthinking everything for years. Mel planted his staff firmly into the ground. “Your body wants to work. Help it out.” Silence again. Then someone asked, “What about supplements?” Mel squinted slightly. “Maybe,” he said. “But if your breakfast comes from a gas station, we’ve got bigger problems.” Laughter broke out. Real laughter. The kind that loosens something inside you. And just like that, the mood shifted. Not cured. Not fixed overnight. But… pointed in a better direction. As the sun dipped lower, people began heading back down the mountain—walking a little lighter, thinking a little clearer. And Mel? He stayed. Looking out over the world like he always does. Half monk. Half coach. Half something nobody can quite explain. (Yes, that’s three halves. Mel would tell you math is flexible if your metabolism is strong.) And as the last of the light hit the peaks, he muttered to himself: “Alright… maybe just a little dessert.” | ||||||
Holly From Heaven 3/27/2026 7:13:39 AM MST |
Hi, Hope you like this one. Enjoy! ! | ||||||
Chrissie & Holly & Mel 7/9/2025 7:50:03 AM MST |
Hello everyone, Looks like Chrissy took holly to a modeling job, shes a natural! Enjoy. love to all, we three | ||||||
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