Monday, June 10, 2019

    I was up as usual with all the usual morning routines. I was planning to call the seminary in New Orleans to tell them about the set of books they might be interested in immediately, but when I got home at 11 am, they would be closed already.   I had the chiropractor at 9:30 and wanted to stop off at the Kona Bookstore to see how much I could get for the CDs I brought in.
    The chiropractor continued working on my upper body, particularly my neck, and the muscles around my shoulders.  Then she worked on my left ankle. As far as I could determine, the foot was out of alignment. The ankle is too far over the arch. I've been working on lowering the outer edge of the foot to the ground to correct the problems. Hopefully, the work, the chiropractor, did will move the process along.
    I stopped off at the bookstore.  Unsatisfying results: $15 store credit or $4.67 in cash, and they returned most of the CDs I gave them. They only took 4.  Apparently, they don't currently have a big need for Classical music. I took the cash since I'm going to have to pay for the shipping of the books. It's going to cost a pretty penny.  When I talk to Mike about the work I'm doing, he is very concerned about me.  He never did well l when I had to extend myself for him.  He felt guilty.  I told him to shut up.
    I am missing him more for two reasons.  Mike found me funny.  We laughed together a lot.  Outside the house as deacon and teacher, he was the comedian, but in the house I was, and he was my appreciative audience. As Damon said, my humor is not for everyone.  It situational and ironic with a dry presentation.  Some people actually believe I'm serious when I say certain things or say things in a certain way that makes others laugh.  They think I'm unaware that I'm being funny. That's scary.
    However, I must say that there was a period when I was living in the commune when no one laughed at what I said. Then this woman moved in, and she laughed.  I thought, 'Wow! I mean to be funny! "I had forgotten because of the lack of appropriate audience response. I'm concerned my sense of humor will languish without feedback. I need my humor to keep me balanced.
    I was explaining to the chiropractor that comedy involves two elements, at least these are the two elements I play with: defying expectations and timing.  I told her that a good comedian can read the telephone book and sound funny.  I must have had some natural awareness of this principle, but then I also read about it.  A comedy writer wrote how if she changed a sentence, she had to make sure to keep the same rhythm because the comedy depended upon it.
    I've told this story before: When I was at the University of Wisconsin, a friend asked me to audition with him.  He made a selection from TS Elliott's The Cocktail Party. It's a dramatic piece.  In the audition, while we were allowed to finish our presentation, the talent scout from Hollywood said, our performance was very good, but the audition was for comedy.  I said, "Give us five minutes." We came back and redid the reading. I have no idea if we were really funny, but I got the offer, not my audition partner. That was fun. Thank God I told him to forget it.  I would never have been a good life for me.
    When I got home, I tried to call the librarian at the seminary. I got a voice mail.  I suspect the library is closed because all the students are gone. I'll call tomorrow and find out.
    I was feeling down. I'm imagining an unsatisfying life.  I had struggled with this when Mike was alive. I want more recognition for my work and all the processes for therapy and teaching that I have developed. This is what I've devoted my life to. I remember as a teenager declaring, "If there's a way into this mess, ( in this case referring to my own unsatisfactory psychological state), there's a way out, and I'm going to find it." I felt that if I could find it for myself, I could help other people. And, that became the purpose of my life.  While I certainly have helped many people, something within me hungers for recognition – while at the same time being repulsed by the whole idea. I haven't found my way out this double bind.  I don't know if my need for recognition is healthy or not.  If it's not, I definitely don't want to pursue it.  I think we all have to be careful about what we pursue.  My uncle once said to me, "Always go after what you really want. Only make damn sure you want it, you just may get it."  It's like the Chinese curse, "May you live in interesting times."
    I washed the kitchen floor yesterday. Today before I did anything else, I washed the hall floor.  My white tiles with white grout look brand new when I wash the floor sucking up the water with my Rainbow vacuum cleaner.  Love it.  I also vacuumed the living room rug and put Yvette's and my Bikram stuff in the washing machine. Scott was in class today but didn't give me his stuff to take home.  I read some of Sunday's NY Times.  I tried to nap, mostly to avoid thinking and feeling. I didn't sit down to do the blog.  I am beginning to feel that sadness about my life.  Mike would help get me out of these funks by loving me and laughing with me. Others help, but they're just not the same thing.
    Jean had called while I was at the chiropractor's. I called her back after I finished my housing cleaning.  She is still struggling with her foot. She also said she is having some problems with her knee.  Her back seems to be okay.
    Brenda called and said that she was too busy to come over to go through my freezer to pick out food to cook for tomorrow night's dinner when she and Don were planning to come over. Naturally, they were cooking.  I took all the chicken out of the freezer that I could find.  Mike had bought the meat from Costco and then broken it up into smaller packages so it would be easier to defrost and prepare for single meals.  I couldn't even tell for sure what is chicken and what might be a different kind of meat. Most of these meats have frost accumulated on them by now—time to use it all as quickly as possible.
    My student arrived late. She was exhausted and had trouble remembering some of the things I already taught her. She is having trouble remembering the procedure for addition, moving up or down in columns, versus double-digit multiplication, which is a crossing pattern.
    After she left, I got the Bikram stuff off the line and got it ready for tomorrow and finally sat down to do some work on the blog.  Writing does help my mood.
    I didn’t take notes for the rest of the day.  I can be reasonably sure my evening routine was the same. Walk, dinner on the screen lanai reading and glancing up at the sunset, watching TV while cataloging books and then I walked Elsa at the end of the evening. 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:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

    Brooks writes a lot about people who experience satisfaction by putting in an all-out effort, often sacrificing themselves.  I certainly agree that strain produces a great deal more than just gain; its by-product can be deep satisfaction. However, everything is in a context, and there are many ways of producing that sense of effort.
    There is nothing worse than living a life at the speed of idling, no strain, no gain, and, more importantly, no satisfaction.  We love putting ourselves out.  Why do some choose not to?  I have lived much of my life at full tilt. I invest and invest deeply.  Of course, there are things I am also afraid to invest in that I would love to.  Fortunately, Mike wasn't one of those things.  I invested in him fully.  It was an excellent choice. Yay, for me.
    I have also invested deeply in developing methods for helping people deal with difficulties in their lives and ways of teaching.  I was driven to resolve those issues. I was fortunate to have discovered them and pursued them.  They gave my life meaning.  However, I'm blocked at putting those ideas out.  People have told me forever to write books about the methods I have developed.  I have started one, but it's like pulling teeth.  Lucky me, Mike's death has given me so many things to do. I'm happily distracted from writing that book. Then again, who would read it? I can't seem to find people who are dying to know what I discovered.   I still want to put it out. Maybe someday, it will have meaning for others.
    Full tilt effort alone does not guarantee satisfaction.  The sign over the entrance at Auschwitz reads, "Work makes free1" Those folks had to live a full tilt just to survive, but I doubt they experienced much satisfaction.  I doubt those who are forced to work by others find that kind of satisfaction.  So, there has to be coordination between the effort and the connection to a meaningful activity for each one of us.
    I can remember an incident that required great effort, provided satisfaction, and had little meaning in the term's broader sense.  Mike and I were taking a walk in our neighborhood in Princeton, NY.  We came across a large tree branch that had been knocked down in a storm. I proposed taking it home. Mike was game.  You have no idea how heavy it was. We only had to walk two blocks, but we had to put it down frequently to rest our straining muscles.  It felt wonderful.  We were able to strain to accomplish something. Although it was hardly a world-shattering goal, our bodies felt great after the effort.
    Full throttle efforts feel great when they are part of a group effort.  Unfortunately, those efforts don't have to be for the greater good of all concerned. As I mentioned before, although I misspelled the word, we produce oxytocin whether we are performing a loving healing act for the benefit of all involved, or acting in unity with our tribe to destroy some common enemy.  The satisfaction comes from working with and for others, giving our all.  This seems to be a basic human need.  I believe if we don't have a chance to express this need, we experience a form of emotional congestion, which can be ultimately deadly.