Privacy Policy
1. Introduction
Welcome to Brain Salad. We respect your privacy and are committed to protecting it through our compliance with this policy. This policy describes the types of information we may collect from you or that you may provide when you visit our website [brainsalad.org] and our practices for collecting, using, maintaining, protecting, and disclosing that information.
2. Information We Collect
We collect several types of information from and about users of our website, including:
Personal identification information (name, email address, phone number, etc.)
Non-personal identification information (browser type, language preference, referring site, etc.)
Information about your use of our site (pages viewed, time spent on site, etc.)
3. How We Use Your Information
We use the information we collect in various ways, including:
To personalize your experience on our site
To improve our website based on the information and feedback we receive from you
To send periodic emails, including updates and information related to your interests
4. How We Protect Your Information
We implement a variety of security measures to maintain the safety of your personal information when you enter, submit, or access your personal information.
5. Sharing Your Information
We do not sell, trade, or otherwise transfer to outside parties your personally identifiable information. This does not include trusted third parties who assist us in operating our website, conducting our business, or servicing you, so long as those parties agree to keep this information confidential.
6. Your Consent
By using our site, you consent to our website's privacy policy.
7. Changes to Our Privacy Policy
We may update our Privacy Policy from time to time. We will notify you of any changes by posting the new Privacy Policy on this page.
8. Contacting Us
If you have any questions regarding this privacy policy, you may contact us using the information below:
Steven Singer, email:4zebra2u@gmail.com
Feel free to adjust and expand upon this template to suit the specific needs and legal requirements of your blog.
About Me:
In 1970 I was finishing undergraduate school and excitedly preparing for the MFA program at the esteemed San Francisco Art Institute. I was happily married and had a beautiful baby girl who is now fifty-three in 2024, and a mother herself with three beautiful children of her own. Four years after Vietnam, I was beaming with a new optimized energy, hope of golden success and was living in one of the most culturally alluring cities in the world, San Francisco. It was becoming apparent, though, that I still had not come to terms with the legacy of trauma that lived within me rooted in my war experience - a Pandora's box of nightmarish unwanted orphans like some kind of mental mold that slowly ate at me, a delayed reaction to the misery and horror of it all – The truth was that in spite of my new beautiful life, I was shattered.
​
Quite frankly, at the time I had not even been aware of the term PTSD, or at least I have no memory of ever hearing it. I just slowly felt a kind of spiraling rage, pulling me down a drain like a cockroach circling a drainpipe about to be swallowed up by a big black hole.
My Search for a Remedy:
​
At this period in my life, I never considered therapy as a remedy for my despair, I think because it seemed like some interminable distant expensive and endless thing that only rich people had access to. Anyway, was somebody going to talk me out of getting over my turbulent storm of emotions - besides, I doubted the value of therapy. I didn’t want to spend years reliving and unraveling the harrowing grip of those dreadful memories while being stripped to the bone in analysis and entrenched in my own recycled psycho sensory gratuitous B Movie by a shrink with a clipboard – After all, who am I, Woody Allen?
Instead, believing in miracles and God Men with superpowers I had just finished reading three awe inspiring books that sustained me with a profound sense of hope for a better day and I think worth mentioning. They were: “Listen Humanity’ by Maher Baba, “Autobiography of Yogi” by Paramhansa Yogananda and “Siddhartha” by Herman Hesse - consequently, it was my contention that what I needed was a spiritual solution.
​
One day a poster of an Indian boy stapled to a telephone pole caught my eye advertising a program about meditation – yeah, I went to check it out.
​
Upon arrival I found myself in an expansive San Francisco Victorian amidst a throng of maybe 60 or so people. Seated in front of us in a throne-like chair was a thirteen-year-old Boy Guru.
It was a strange site to see The Boy Guru flanked by older Indian men dressed in black robes in postures of submissive devotion. I later discovered they were identified as the Gurus Mahatmas-meaning great souls or saints in Hindi.
​
What I found so incredibly odd was that the boy Guru, was then introduced by one of the men as the Sat Guru of the age known then as Guru Maharaji, also known to his devotees as “The Perfect Master.” This was strangely fitting for the milieu of the early seventies when Indian Gurus were all the rage. I thought, wow, I hit the jackpot, not just any Guru but the perfect one just for me. I know, how quaint right?
​
Today, at the time I’m writing this, that 13-year-old boy is now sixty-seven, and is still teaching exactly what he was back then and remains my spiritual father to this very day. He is currently known as Prem Pal Singh Rawat, but I digress. The Guru gave a beautiful rousing presentation on The Knowledge he would reveal for those among us who were sincere and guiles of heart – guiles “huh” I thought “whatever,” but I knew I resembled that remark no matter what it meant, and I wanted in bigtime and maybe you do too:
​
​
After over 50 years of practicing the meditation techniques that I learned at twenty-four, I have recently discovered new technological tools and methodologies employing electronically produced sound waves that can be utilized as a trigger to efficiently synchronize or intone your brain towards changing unwanted parts of its program when included with affirmations.