Monday, June 3, 2019, 3 months, and counting.

    I woke up early but waited until 6 before I got up.  I worked on my breathing.  I had been making a change, sucking my abdomen up to inhale.  It had been awkward, but I kept trying. This morning, I felt my ribs close to my armpits expand. Ah, if I focus on expanding my ribs when I breathe rather than my abdomen, the contraction of the abdominal muscles when I inhale follows as day the night.  I followed my morning routine and went to Bikram.

    The classes are a good size, even now, in the summer, when they usually shrink.  When it's hot enough outside, people tend to avoid greater heat and higher humidity.  Well, except me, maybe.  I keep doing my 6 days a week, and I have good company.

    I drove home immediately after class. The gardener was here already trimming a large hedge.  I told him my primary concern was the weeds, on yes, the weeds. This is what Mike was getting worked up about. 

    I walked down to the bottom of the property to check on the limes. There are some left, but it looks like the end of the season.  I will have to buy lemons from Costco soon.

    I didn't shower first thing because I wanted to do some gardening first.  I sat down to have my breakfast soup, called Social Security with some questions, did some work on the blog, and played FreeCell.   I had to wait for 40 minutes before I got someone to talk to.  My question was why my widow's benefit was so much smaller, only a little more than ½ of the total amount I was entitled to. The Ohio public school system didn't pay into the SS system.  The argument was that their retirement benefits were so good, we didn't need SS also.  Not! On both counts. Also, it said something about me not getting benefits for March.  I told the guy that Mike was alive in March. Ah, the March check was for February.  To get the full March benefits, he had to live till the end of the month. If he had died, three days earlier, he may not have been entitled to the February check.  What a system!  

    The funeral benefits – get this- are $250. That's it.  Fortunately, the only expenses I had for the whole funeral was the single flower display and the booklets we had printed up. Everything else, including food for 300 people, was provided by the church. The box that served as his urn was made by the father of one of the deacon candidates' wives.  It is an absolutely gorgeous koa wood box in the tradition of Hawaiian burial rituals.  The funeral was wonderful!  Too bad Mike wasn't there to enjoy it.  Well, I prefer to think that he was.

    I am as full of energy today as I was tired the other day.  It seems that I need a few days of complete rest and then can have one great vigor. My tutoring student arrived at 2. We worked exclusively on math. She catches on quickly; it is surprising what she doesn't know for being in 5th grade. For example, she had no idea how to do two-digit multiplication, rounding to any place, subtraction with regrouping. These are the things we are starting with.  I have copies of the standards and am going through them one at a time.  I will review what we have covered so far on Wednesday and cover expanded notation. 

    Judy called, and we yakked and yakked.  I told her about my response to David Brook's "The Second Mountain." How disappointed I was.  Her response was the same as mine: why can't you be committed to both self and others? Why does it have to be an absolute choice? 

    I walked Elsa.  I was going to stop over at Alexandra's, a high school student, and a neighbor to see if she would enter the books into the CollectionZ program that weren't in already. I would do it, but it will be such a strain on my eyes, combing the page for the information. 

    I ate dinner tonight at 6:30pm. This is early for me.  I had my usual large salad, two slices of buttered multi-grain baguette, and limeade.  Then I finished off the pasta alfredo light with broccoli that Shivani had made.  For the third night, I ate on the lanai instead of watching TV.  That way, I can read as I eat.  Reading this book is tough.  I want to react to things he says but don't have my computer in front of me to let loose. So I put the book down, afraid I will lose the page.

    I walked Elsa before going to bed.  When we got home, I  washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

Sunday, June 2, 2019

    I set the alarm for 8 because I didn't have to be ready for Paulette to pick me up for church until 9:30.  Nonetheless, I woke up at 6.  I was able to go back to sleep until 7. Since I had gone to bed shortly before 11 and had a five-hour nap the previous afternoon, I would say that I need a lot of sleep.  Both Mike and I enjoyed napping and sleeping and did it well.  I referred to napping as one of my retirement hobbies.  

    Elsa and I went around the block this morning with a brown paper bag in hand since I wasn't doing Bikram.  There wasn't a lot of trash, only cigarette butts which people must have thrown out their car windows.  I do hope they put them out before they toss them.  There is a lot of dried grass around; we're vulnerable to fire.  When I came back to our street, there was that thing that holds the wheel.  I tried to pick it up; it was way over 25 lbs. That's how much Sidney weighs.  I had no problem picking him up.

    When I came back, I gave Elsa her pill, but no food, she still had some in her bowl.  I made my two days of Juice Plus, washed the dishes, drank my two cups of water, did one kettle of boiling water for my weeds, and did some work on the blog. I was planning to go out and kill off that weed that is growing in one of my plants but ran out of time.  I jumped into the shower, did MELT on both my feet and hands, but I didn't do and haven't done the Tiger Tail for a while.  It is incredible how quickly my hands feel better with MELT treatment. 

    After I got dressed, I tried to do some more work on the blog. I hadn't done much when I heard Paulette honking her horn in my driveway. We were one of the first at church. Paulette made sure I had a bulletin. I looked through it and noticed that Mike's name wasn't listed, and his Deacon's Corner article wasn't there.  When I am aware of his absence, it knocks me out. I just wanted to go to sleep,  His absence in the physical world has a profound effect. His towel is still sitting on the rack, waiting for him to use it. I still haven't changed the linens. I haven't touched the files on his desk filled with things he was currently working on. Those things are too much for me.  When I think of him spiritually, I can feel his presence and his love, and I smile.  His spiritual presence and love were always available, whether he was physically close or not.  

    My experience of feeling my heart/chest with his love must be what many people associate with experiencing the love of God, a loving God.  I wasn't raised with that expectation and feeling as associated with God does not come naturally to me. I was dependent on human love.  The problem with human love is that it is mood dependent, even with the best intentions. 

    As I am typing this, I am experiencing the visual images associated with migraines.  Maybe that's why I'm tired. While I felt pressure in my head, I've always assumed I had a sinus headache.  These images that announce a migraine are new to me. Clear signs that I'm responding to the stress of Mike's loss.  But I don't think I'm depressed.  I can enjoy the flowers, the sunset, Elsa, the outreach of a friend, a conversation with a family member, and so much more. 

    I finally went out and worked on that weed that I was determined to do before the gardeners came on Monday.  It took an hour to finish the work, and I had a blast.  Here I was procrastinating, fearing that I wouldn't be able to do it.  Some of that is due to my physical limitations.  There was one point where I was down on my knees on a pad and had trouble getting up. But,, I kept on pushing through.  I pulled up weeds that would come up, cut those that had thicker stems that didn't give in to a good yank, and painted them with Clorox. Of course, I wound up getting some Clorox on the plant I was trying to free. Let's see what the effect is. Also, I noticed that the gardeners had cut back that plant before.  As is the case here in Hawaii, we grow indestructible weeds.  

    B came up to put some plant hooks up in the roof overhang, so I could put up wind chimes.  Boy, did I mess up my Woodstock windchimes when I moved!  I left them wrapped in plastic on an outdoor table. The wood on my Woodstock windchimes just rotted out. There was a pewter set a student gave me that is not in A one condition but good enough. Now, I have to restring the silver dollar wind chimes from my mom. That will be nice to hear outside my bedroom. 

    There was a moment between my mom and me one day when I was driving her somewhere. She spontaneously said, "I'll take care of you when you get old." We both laughed when we realized what she had said.  I said, "Mom, I'm going hold you to that promise." If there is any way for her to do so, I'm sure she is.  The picture of my mom and Mike looking after me together now earns a big smile from me. 

    Which reminds me of another story.  I finally got my Master's in Education because Mike insisted; he valued certification and thought I would have more authority with a Master's degree.. When it came to graduation, I said, "I'm not walking. I couldn't care less." Well, Mike set me straight.  My mom came too. 

    On the day of graduation, once I found my seat among the other graduates, I looked around for them. I saw the two of them in the stands of the gymnasium; they were radiating pride.  They were so happy and proud, and they shared that with each other.  Mike was great with my mom.  Again, I was so lucky. She wasn't an easy person. I recently asked him if he regretted having my mom live with us for the last 18 years of her life. Mike's response was, "No, it made our hearts bigger." I loved, love, and will always love that incredible man. 

    I finally called the gardener this weekend.  He said he would come over on Monday. I can hear Mike giving a sigh of relief.  Now to solve the food problem, so I get more protein in me.

    I walked Elsa, came home had my large salad, and two slices of multi-grain baguette, yum, and my limeade.  I defrosted two kale and cheese patties planning to cook them, but I wasn't hungry after finishing my salad and bread. But, of course, I had two Hersey milk chocolate bars with whole almonds. I resisted having a third.  I wasn't hungry for nutrition just for the taste of the chocolate with almonds. 

    I walked Elsa before going to bed.  She is no longer willing to do the full walk. She turns around and heads back home. I don’t argue with her. When we got home, I  washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went to bed. Good night, Elsa, Goodnight, Mike.

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Musings:

p. xxv "Flow is especially wonderful when it is collective Flow. Something you experience with your team or unit." He gives the example of someone who experienced it in boot camp when he marched with his unit.

p. Xxvi In this kind of joy, like all joy, the cage of self-consciousness falls away, and people are fused with those around them.  This kind of joy is all present tense; people are captured by and fully alive in the moment.

    Scary quotes from Brooks's "The Second Mountain.".  My parents were refugees from Nazi Germany.  My father was Jewish, but my mother was Christian. He left a year and a half before she did, and they were married in the US when she arrived.  She witnessed the Nazi rallies.  Yes, they create Flow, but at what cost to our humanity. 

    My parents, born in 1903,  were so disturbed by the tribalism they witnessed in the 20th century. While my father was not old enough to be drafted for the war in 1914, he was aware of how crazy the war's provocation was.  He concluded that all group activities were dangerous.  My sister and I weren't even allowed to join the Girl Scouts. I could never go to a rock concert where everyone claps or yells together.  Converting to Catholicism was a challenge.  

    No, I didn't do it for Mike's sake; I had my own conversion story, which started when I was 12, but conversion was just a bizarre thought until Mike led the way. Then it wasn't so farfetched. But I had to come to terms with joining a group with a common doctrine. Before Vatican II, I would pass Catholic churches that announced that anyone who was not a Catholic would go to hell. Boy, if anything was going to turn me away from joining, that was it. 

    I had to come to terms with the reality that social groups are part of what it means to be human. It's neither good nor bad. It can be either. When I was a child, there was a game we played at pajama parties.  We would say "Under the sheets," after someone said something, like: I do my homework – under the sheets.  For a preteen in the 50s, this had some sexual implication. We would laugh and laugh. You had to be there. It doesn't sound very funny to me anymore, either.  But my point is that everything can be evaluated in a context. Group togetherness, with loss of self-consciousness, even loss of some individuality can be either good or bad depending on the context.  

    Unfortunately, context and true intent aren't that easy to discern. A person can say they mean to do good but wind up doing harm. All too often, we are tricked by our own hidden needs to be or do something.  We may not want to, but we use others to satisfy these hidden needs of our own.  Tricky.  I had two caring parents who were unaware of their hidden motivation.  My sister said camp was wonderful, "Because we had all their love and attention at the safe distance of 200 miles." Talk about out of the mouth of babes.

    I say keep your eye on the outcome. But for some, the issue is really the elevation of self through the destruction of the other.  At least we can see them coming at us. It's the others who swear they only mean and do good who scare the hell out of me. 

    Brooks describes all people who think of others as Second Mountain people.   I challenge that assumption. Naming the mountains first and second mountain, at least when we are talking about adults, is inappropriate. Yes, children, appropriately, are entirely focused on self. Their first job is to survive, but adults have the luxury of thinking beyond their own immediate survival, at least many adults, certainly not all.   I don't know a better term, but either mountain, as he describes them, can represent people who suck the life out of others. 

    I think there is a third mountain, where the dialectic of two opposing ideas, thinking of others first and thinking of self first, are resolved, the synthesis.  While we do everything inevitably for ourselves for one reason or another, including sacrificing our very lives,  when we achieve the third mountain, we seek out the 'narrow path' between self and others, which our modern lives call for.