I didn't do any writing yesterday. I woke up, and 8 am when the alarm went off and was still exhausted. I went to church. When I came home from church, I was even more tired. I went down for a nap. Why am I so tired? Is it because going to church reminds me of Mike, who should assist the priest, read the gospel, and give the homily? Am I that tired because I don't feel connected to the church, and the incongruence exhausts me? Am I exhausted because I tire myself out all week, and Sunday is a day to collapse? Who knows?
I petitioned heaven when I was there for My Mike. If anyone deserves the best accommodations, he does.
I went to Gertrude's Jazz Bar last night with Katrine. Yvette and Scott joined us when they could. The performer was lovely, reminded me of Nora Jones, but I found her style monotonous. I have never been to a concert with only one performer since Mike took me to one in the village in the 70s. He had seen this group when he went with some colleagues in Albany and bought their album. I don't know if their performance was varied, or I was familiar with their work and knew each song individually. What was great about my evening out tonight was the location of Gertrude's itself. Like many restaurants in Hawaii, it is open-air with a view of the ocean and ocean breezes to soothe us. Just sitting there was good enough for me.
Today was a busy, busy day. Bikram, home to eat breakfast and do some weeding, shower and off to the chiropractor, and then to the bank.
I had a check from the credit card company for unclaimed bonus points on Mike's credit card made out to the Estate of Michael David Ross. I had a problem depositing it. If I had anticipated it, I could have brought the will in with me when I went to the bank and shown them the trust, but I forgot that I had it in the car. The bank teller checked with a higher up, and they accepted the check for deposit. Done.
I flashed Mike's driver's license while at the bank, thinking that would give me more credibility. I kissed his sweet face. It's one of the better pictures of him that I have readily available- for now. When Damon comes over Christmas, we're going to set up a picture gallery in his open closet area. I will have plenty of pictures to remember him by. I will see him not just serious but also laughing with family and friends.
For the most part, I don't 'miss' him. My life goes on; I find satisfaction. It's only at moments that I miss loving him. My heart swells with the memory. I let it in, and then go on. Feeling that love for him was a nice respite.
After the bank, I was off to Office Max to Xerox all the documents that Damon will need upon my death, all the original signed and notarized sheets, all the documents showing where the money is hidden. It occurs to me that I should make a set of copies for Karin too, and get Damon to tell her where he has the originals. When I got home, I did some work cataloging books. I am almost finished. It thought I would be finished by Sunday, but it will probably be by Tuesday.
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Musings: I'm putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.
In my last post, I wrote about how religions inform us about the human condition. In that entry, I wrote about how the changes in religions over the centuries tell us of the changes in societies' social structure.
The need to love and be loved is addressed by religious worship. I know Christianity emphasizes the love of Jesus for us. I don't know if other religions speak about God loving us and comforting us, but all religions talk about the need for us to worship, love, and adore God. Some think why would I worship a God that needs or even responds to worship? But I see it as providing an outlet for one of our most basic needs: the need to love, yes, even more than we need to be loved.
Victor Frankel found his psychological freedom in a concentration camp through love. He focused on his love for his wife. He wasn't even sure she was still alive, but he focused on sending her love. He found that doing this changed his frame of mind. He could be a loving person, even in the midst of severe deprivation and the constant threat of death.
Loving others unconditionally isn't easy for any of us. We are born with the capacity to be annoyed and distressed when we don't get what we want, particularly from other human beings. But God, hmm, we can love God unconditionally excepting that everything He does is the best for us, even if we don't get it why it would be.
When I was in Oahu during Mike's hospitalization, I stayed at a Krishna Ashram. They spoke of serving the deities. They bathed, dressed, and fed statues every day. In the Abrahamic tradition, this sounds bizarre. However, as I was attending to Mike, I could feel my love for him grow. Caring for someone, or in the case of Krishna's something (a statue), lovingly, is a wonderful experience. It nurtures our loving nature. And boy, does that ever feel good. So much better than drugs. This loving life is what I miss with Mike. We would express our love for each other every day just because it felt good.
It's interesting, I consider expressing love for another is a gift to that person, but there are cultures where what is not expressed shows love. My guess is it means you keep your complaints to yourself. I guess you don't express the positive because it can open Pandora's box to all emotions, negative as well as positive. You don't want a world where negative emotions flow freely. However, neither do I want to live in a world where positive emotions can never be expressed as long as the negative ones do not outnumber them.
There were things about Mike he needed to change, just as there was and is about me. I found that I would know when to say something, start complaining even when they became more annoying. This worked for me. It works in my teaching too. I don't correct a student or use a teaching approach I know until it comes to mind. It is at that point that it is appropriate to introduce it. Before then, the student isn't ready to use that information or approach. But this assumes that I am centered enough to make a decision born out of concern for the other person instead of one guided by my fear about something or another.
I admit I am not very good with people who genuinely believe that the way they are is immutable; they cannot change because that is the way they are. Heaven, preserve me from those people. Yuck! There is no narrow way with people like that. Living with them is like participating in a carnival bumper car ride; the fun of that is limited.
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