Saturday, September 21, 2019

 

    I woke up around 7:30 and stayed in bed till 8:30.  I showered and headed over to the house after texting Karin.  She never answered.  I assumed she was sleeping.  When I got over there, it was just David, telling me to keep my voice down because everyone was asleep.  I got to work writing and having my morning soup. 

    I finally took a walk.  I usually do  Bikram and 6,000 steps a day. I am way off my mark while traveling. The hills in Seattle are a challenge. I used my walking poles while I was here in case I found myself rolling down a hill.  I called Dorothy while I walked.  She was doing better. At least she's not in bed all the time. Dorothy and I talked about the state of the world. We always fall into that topic.  I make some comment about the human condition.  However, I want to make it clear; I am not a pessimist about the human state.  I think we are pulled both ways, in our concern for others and our concern for ourselves, at all times. 

    I found a Catholic church, St. Joseph's.  There was a group standing in the doorway. Most of the women were wearing black dresses. Because they were fancy, I assumed it was going to be a wedding instead of a funeral.  I used the bathroom, sat in a pew, and did the rosary.  It was good to have something familiar. 

    Like a  10-year-old runaway, I came home when I was hungry. I had some bread and cheese and some of Karin's birthday cake.  Too much buttercream, at least it was good buttercream.

    David, Karin, and I had dinner together. Pork, a great salad, and some bread. This is the most time I've spent with them.  They were apologetic about not being able to spend more time with me.  I miss Mike in this context, but otherwise, I'm fine.  My purpose for the visit is to develop relationships with my family not visiting the city.  While I wind up spending less time face to face, I had gotten to know them better than I would have under normal circumstances when they had their hosting faces on. They hopefully also feel that they have gotten to know me better.

  The need to pay attention to me is different under this stress than if they had been okay.  They would have been feeling they had to take care of me, entertain me.  All that had been dropped.  Stress can be helpful.  The only remaining question: did I dodge the illness bullet?  Can I go on with my travels, or should I don a face mask and board a plane for Hawaii from Seattle?

______-______-_______

Musings:

 

    Someone compared my theories to EST and Scientology.  What they share is a belief that we can clear out the worst of our neuroses. What they don't share is the same objective.  I haven't read anything about either process for a while, but as I remember it, the goal of their work was success, basically getting what you want.  

    The goal of my work, as I see it, is getting what is best for myself and others, not necessarily what I think I want.  Also, I don't see my wellbeing as independent of the wellbeing of others. I believe they are linked.

    The other difference is the process.  I think both EST and Scientology use bullying tactics. The very person who compared my thinking to theirs said that they pursue you once they know you're interested.  Come on. I do the exact opposite.  I want the client to be in control of their course.  And I don't know what's best for people.  All I can do to help them is a slow unpeeling to heal old wounds.  Old wounds create detours.

Friday, September 20, 2019

    Karin's 35th birthday.  

    I texted her at work and asked for the code to get into the main house.  I was sitting there enjoying my morning soup and rereading Chapter 1 of my book when David came into the house.  He had just dropped Sam off at daycare, come home to shower, and go off to work.  He said he came home at 10:30 last night.  Truth is I didn't hear him come in despite having difficulty falling asleep.

    I'm on these Chinese herbs for my hot flashes.  They are stimulating, and sometimes I struggle to fall asleep.  Fortunately, I know meditation techniques to calm myself enough to knock myself out.  If I have to choose between hot flashes and insomnia, I prefer hot flashes.  Sleeplessness is the worst for me.

    After I had written for a while and finished my morning soup, I got dressed and ready to go to the Frye Museum, which Dorothy recommended.  I prepared to call for a Lyft. 

            No one uses the front entrance of their house.  There is a steep set of stairs from the street up to the front door.  The entrance that is used is technically the back door. It is accessed through the driveway, which is around the corner from the front of the house. I figured it would be too difficult to get a pick up from Lyft at the house, so I walked to the main drag and called from there. Easy peas.

    The Frye is a small museum with an odd collection.  The traveling exhibition wasn't open until the next day, but the permanent collection was available. I walked through the gallery and thought, huh? I thought most of the pictures looked amateur. There was something wrong with so many of them.  The trip there wound up being more of an intellectual challenge than an aesthetic treat.  I spent my time figuring out what was wrong with these pictures.

       Since I didn't have the traveling exhibit to look at, I concentrated on the pictures in the permanent exhibition.  I walked through the small gallery three times and stood looked at the pictures from varying angles, hoping I would see something that I had missed.  Why would these pictures be in a museum?

            When I spoke to Dorothy after I got home, she expressed the same opinion, which she had initially not shared with me.  She was expecting a special exhibit to be open.  She says those are good. When she went into the gallery with the permanent collection, she laughed. She thought they were terrible as I did.

    These were the pictures the Frye family had collected.  They even had an art expert to advise them. When they died, they had this charming small museum built to house their collection.  As Dorothy said, if the Fryes hadn't provided the space, no other museum would have displayed them.

    I found a number that were reasonably good and even took pictures of them.  It was a little like a treasure hunt, finding gold among the dross.  I concluded that most of the pictures lacked a clear focal point; either there wasn't one, or there was too much included. The other problem is that many of these paintings didn't flow. A good painting guides your eye over the surface by its lines.  These paintings were static. The coloration was simplistic and the subject matter rendered uninteresting.  Dorothy said the subject of the paintings was kitschy.  I think all subject matter can be interesting. Most of these painters managed to make these images boring.

    Before I left, I had a bit to eat in the museum cafeteria, a bowl of minestrone, and three slices of good Italian bread.   I also stopped in the gift shop to buy Karin a birthday card.  I found one with a lineup of cats sitting in a row of boxes, with someone sitting at the piano behind them.  The implication was that the pianist controlled the cats' calls.   This was a perfect card.  Mike and I had our rendition of the Happy Birthday song, inspired by Mike's total inability to carry a tune. We caterwauled our way through the lyrics.  It was fun. It became our tradition. People look forward to it- not.

    I overheard one of the waiters speak to a customer about the history of the English language. Naturally, I piped up. While I would hardly call myself a linguist, I have an abiding interest in the subject. He mentioned something I know: how the gh spelling slipped into English orthography.  It was the Dutch typesetters who couldn't imagine a language without that spelling in it.  

    Then I went off to find a CVS.  I wanted to make sure my hyperness wasn't due to high blood pressure.  My blood pressure had always been good until I spent five weeks in Oahu with Mike in the hospital before he died.  My blood pressure went up to 160/95.  I discovered this when Mike's first wife, Jean, visited him, bringing her blood pressure monitor.  When I tried it, I was duly shocked.  I called my internist immediately, and she prescribed blood pressure medication.  I was on four pills a day and couldn't bring it down to normal. 

    When I got home, I continued the medication but less.  I was taking two pills a day. One evening I missed; the next day, it was 136/85. Not terrible, but not great either.  Then I started taking my blood pressure daily and keeping a record. I was generally under 130/80.  I could maintain that with one pill a day.  But now I am having this strange sensation of blood pounding, which is keeping me up at night. I was concerned that my blood pressure was up again. 

    Before I found a drugstore with a blood pressure monitor, Judy called.  I was starting to get worried about her.  I had called her several times yesterday but hadn't heard from her.   Thank God, she is okay; she had her phone turned off.  I told her of my concern.  When I took my blood pressure, it was 125/75 shortly after I sat down. I retook it, and it dropped to 118/73.  I think I'm going to have to rethink my medication regime.  I don't want it to drop too low. While I'm traveling, I'll stay on one pill a day. I called Judy back to give her the news.

    While I was waiting for my Lyft to return home, Karin texted me to tell me she was sick.  She thought it was an ear infection and not Sam's flu. Her doctor corrected her; it's Sam's flu.  She said now she understands why he was moaning all the time.  When she took her temperature, she had 103.5, an impressive temp for an adult. Some birthday!

    Since I can't imagine that I will avoid getting sick, I texted Shivani and Damon to warn them.  I may have to go home to Hawaii from Seattle, so I don't get anyone else sick along the way. Damon told me that August, his sixteen-year-old son, was already sick. 

    Dorothy called me and asked me to bring a flask of cold water to Karin, who was lying in bed. I did that and returned to the Bnb, a fantastic separate unit, to do some more writing. After a while, poor Karin knocked on my door. She had to go pick up Sam and the food she ordered for dinner. I offered to do both; she turned me down. David wouldn't be home until 7. It wasn't much of a birthday celebration.  So glad I'm not the one who introduced this mayhem into their lives. They live on overdrive as it is.

    After she came home with the baby and the food, we spent some time together before David got home at 7.  After the Tylenol wore off, her temperature was 103.6. They spent some time together clearing Sam's nasal passages so he could eat. There's this contraption now for doing it.  First, you flush the nasal passage with saline, then you stick a tube down the baby's nose and suck.  No, you don't suck the phlegm into your mouth. It's pretty yucky even with that precaution, but the baby feels so much better. When the baby feels better, so do they. 

    I went over to the Bnb and watched some TV. I had trouble falling asleep again.  I got up to check my pulse to see if it was running fast.  It wasn't.  I think it is that I miss Mike. While I have known the people I am visiting for years, in some cases all their lives, I am with people I don't know well. It's stressful to be outside my routine and my environment. Mike was my portable home base.  When I rested in his arms, I knew I was okay just as I was; no more effort was necessary.  He didn't so much protect me, except from my mom, as he reassured me that I was okay just the way I was.  Nothing else was necessary. The good news is I got lots of work done on the book.

    When I checked my email, there was an email from JJ, the Bikram teacher, who was on the mainland for the summer.  He was asking if I was okay because he hadn't seen me in class.  He asked if I needed anything.  How lucky am I that I live in an environment where people would reach out like that??!!!

            

 

Thursday, September 19, 2019

    I woke up around seven and stayed in bed till about 8:30 am.  I heard someone drive off.  A car pulled up a while later, and David knocked on my door to ask if I needed anything.  They had arranged for a babysitter for Sam, their six-month-old baby, while they were out.  I went into the main house to be introduced.  David took out a gallon of Oat milk for me and the blender to make my smoothie.   Then he went off to work.

    It was good to get back to my usual eating routine.  I do love routine as my base. I also like some variety, but not as much as some. I know that I will have to include more into my life now. 

    Dorothy called.  She had a miserable cold. She was going to come out and spend time with me here but had to cancel.  She was in bed with a strong need for sleep and was glad she hadn't come out.  I had thought that if I wasn't traveling on from here, I could have taken care of Sam myself.  Watching the twenty-year-old babysitter deal with this baby, I don't know if I could have.  I don't have the strength anymore. Dorothy made me feel better and said that it would be a challenge for her too. I don't feel quite so bad.  The only problem is, I still haven't gotten to hold Sam. I do make faces at him, and he laughs.  

    I worked on updating the blog and sending a few out.  Then I went for a walk.  I managed to get 4,000 steps in where yesterday I only did 2,000 in total for the day.  I do love the plant growth on the mainland.  Here in Seattle, the style is the English garden: different plants randomly stuck in the ground next to each other. This creates a juxtaposition of a variety of leaf patterns.  Love that look! I'm wondering if I can do more of this in Hawaii.  Buy something and randomly stick it in the ground. Just see what happens — worth a try.

    I went out with David's sweatshirt on under a jacket, wearing socks with crocs. I suspect I looked homeless.  The hills here are steep; the one to the side of their house is worse than Hawaii's hills.  I took my walking sticks to give me more support.  I was somewhat concerned about falling and being left on the ground.  I took my phone with me to call a Lyft if I did fall and needed help.  Most people, along the way, said hello to me. There was one woman who stared when she saw I was wearing a Yale sweatshirt.  I don't know if that weighs more in favor of my being homeless or not. 

    When I came home, I did some more work on the blog.  Then, time for my afternoon nap. Karin and I had dinner alone. Sam was in bed, and David wasn't home from work yet. Wow! She is one good cook.  Her food was delicious.  I am eating well on my journey. 

    Karin went to bed right after dinner. She was exhausted and had to be at work by 8:30 for conferences. I stayed in their house rather than going over to the Bnb space because it was more comfortable typing at their dining room table. Then I went to bed. 

    I had difficulty falling asleep.  I was worried about David being out so late.  I logically assumed that they had been in touch with each other, and Karin knew he was all right, but I wasn't sure about it in my heart of hearts. I find myself fearful for these kids, all three.  Usually, I can anticipate the worst-case scenario without feeling fear. I suspect it's the genetic connection.  Although, I had similar feelings for Damon even though there was none of that there.          

Wednesday, September 18, 2019

 

    Travel day: Portland to Seattle.  Mowg arranged to borrow Lilith’s car and drive Yvette to the airport and then me to the train station. We arrived around 10:30 am for a noon departure.  The time wouldn’t have been a problem if the train station hadn’t been so cold.  It was built on the model of the Grand Central train station in Manhattan: high ceilings, absolutely gorgeous and without heat.  There was a small food stand where I got a sandwich and a Hersey’s Milk Chocolate Bar with whole almonds.  I also found out that it was a little warmer around where the stand than in the main section of the station.  

    I had bought coach seats for a whopping $31.50, with my senior discount.  That price included a baggage check. Since I had ordered late in the day, my car was the furthest down the track.  The first car I passed was an engine.  That led me to think we were going in that direction.  I noticed all the seats were facing with their backs to that engine.  Hmm!  I don’t do well riding backward.  I thought, one good thing about being so far away from the engine if there is a crash, I should be okay.  Wouldn’t you know it, there was an engine at the other end too, and my car was right behind it. I would be on the first car out. 

    The seats were tawdry: old, worn-out leather. I wondered what business class must look like.  The seats were comfortable except that the car was cold.  My feet were freezing.  I finally emptied my briefcase and put my feet in it.  That helped a little.

    I walked down to the dining car to get some movement in.  I walked through the business class. The seats were the same, just fewer of them in the car, making the aisle somewhat wider—big whoop.

    The Seattle train station is a fantastic as the Portland.  They must all have been built at the same time.  In baggage claim, I nailed some young woman to ask how I ordered a Lyft.  Mowg had made sure my account was set up with my current credit card, but I forgot to ask him how to order it. She was a newlywed traveling with her husband on their honeymoon.  How great is that? Starting a new life together.  Ah, I remember it well.

    I didn’t see the Lyft driver at first. Poor guy, he was a badly overweight fellow with back problems sitting in his car for 18 hours a day.  Yikes!  I suggested some exercises he could do while he drove to help his back. The trip to Karin and David’s house was easy.  

    They have an additional 500 sq. building on their property, which they use as an air Bnb and visiting relatives.   In Hawaii, it would be called an ohana.  Karin had sent me the combination for the lock.  I was able to let myself in. It is elegant.  A lot better than my Howard Johnson room.

    I saw Karin’s car parked in the driveway.  I texted her but didn’t call because I knew that Sam, their six-month-old son, was sick.  If she was able to sleep for a few minutes, great. I hadn’t brought my suitcase to the room because it involved in getting it over some steps.  Too much for me.  I texted Karin to get it when she had a chance.  Then there was a knock at my door, and there was David, who had come home and figured out who that suitcase belonged to and brought it down to me.

    I went into the main house.  We had takeout Thai food. That was delicious. The baby is incredible.  He is a doll even when he is sick.  At his worst, he never slips into bad baby mode.

Nonetheless, Karin and David were stressed listening to their son, making distressed noises they were not used to. They did a great job working together to solve childcare problems: who would take which shift during the night and how they were going to provide childcare for him the next day, given that they had to go to work.  They were both so deliciously tender with this baby.  He is the best. I would love to hold him. I am afraid to. I hope I don’t catch this cold.  I don’t want to spread it up and down the west coast.

    After dinner, I retired to my separate quarters,  unpacked, watched some TV, and went to bed. 

______-_______-________

Musings;

 

A conversation I had with God after watching a scene on TV in which adult males were bullying some people:

    Betty: God, why did you design us this way?

    God: I designed you for survival for a set of circumstances which no longer exist.  . . . .   Ever heard of the law of unintended consequences?

    And then I sent messengers down to earth to try to teach you guys how to deal with your impulses in a world you were not designed for.  Do you listen?  Not so much.  I try, but that’s what free will is about.  Sorry, it’s up to you guys if you’re going to make a mess of the world you are living in.  I can’t stop you.

Tuesday, September 17, 2019

 

    I got up late this morning.  Good thing I have Bikram every morning; otherwise, I would probably never get out of bed. I stayed put long after I woke up.  I sent all three, Yvette, Mowgli, and Lilith, individual texts asking them to tell me when they were up.

    Yvette was the first to contact me, letting me know she was awake. I still had to shower.  When I got out, Yvette had sent a text saying she was freezing and had to shower to warm up.  Then she came over and up to my room to check out my toilet and cut my toenails.  She sat down on the toilet.  The woman is 5’10’; her knees were way above her hips. The toenail job used to be Mike’s; now, it has fallen to Yvette.  

    After my pedicure, we headed off to the same restaurant we went to yesterday with Mowg and Lilith.  I had the same order, two eggs sunny side up and toast, but today I order a salad.  I ate the eggs first; I couldn’t finish the salad and had it packed up to go.  I had a wonderful time with Yvette alone. 

    Yvette and I walked over to Mowg and Lilith’s house.  On the way, we passed a house with two large tubs with ripe tomato plants sitting between the curb and the sidewalk. As Yvette and I were admiring them, the woman of the house opened her front door and told us to take as many as well like.  We grabbed a handful.

    When we arrived at the house, Mowg was at work, but Lilith was preparing to cook a meal.  She was delighted about the tomatoes.  She didn’t have enough to do what she had planned; now, she did.

    She delayed the cooking because Yvette had some chores and needed Mowg to drive her.  First stop, off to pick up the Chinese herbs that our Hawaiian acupuncturist had run out off.  She graduated from a school in Chinese medicine in Portland. Perfect. She sent in a prescription for both of us.  We’ll have to pay her when we get to Hawaii.  Ah, methinks she makes a percentage when she sells it — Fair’s fair. 

    Then we went to Yvette’s hairdresser/ friend.  I met her when she came to Hawaii several years ago and stayed at our house.  She had copies of pictures she took of Yvette mounted for display. 

    Yvette and I ran back to the car through the Portland rain. Yvette had a yen for a pumpkin-something injected with something.  The first stop was Starbucks. They were out of the something for the injection, and she came out emptyhanded- off to the next stop.  The yen was too big. 

    She had success at the next stop at Fred Something.  Yvette had three drinks in hand. Two Pumpkin something for Mowg and herself, something for Lilith, and a box of chocolate chip cookies for moi.

    When we got back to the house, Lilith had prepared food.  OMG! It was delicious and filling.  We sat around and talked while Yvette slept with her head on Lilith’s lap.  Mowg and Lilith are interested in exploring ideas.  I love doing that.  I left around 6 pm.  Mowg drove Lilith to the 7/11 and then me to the motel.  A very satisfying day.  

_______-________-_______

 

Musings:

    Mowg and I talked about someone who had been raised to be selfish.  Her mother taught her to always look out for herself.  How’s this for a definition of selfishness: Someone who always thinks all situations with other humans are win/lose situations; a win/win is inconceivable.      

    I don’t run into many people who can be described as selfish in that sense. But we are all vulnerable to ego-centricity, where we define the world by our needs instead of striving to understand the people we deal with on their terms.  That’s the hard one.  

Monday, September 16, 2019

  

    When I woke up in the motel, the first thing I noticed was the flat screen tv had fallen off the wall and was lying askew on the desk.  I never heard it fall.  I called the front desk to report the fallen TV and to ask how to turn on the shower water.  They said, “Pull the knob.”  I had done that to no avail.  I finally got in the tub and pulled; the angle improved my chances. Success!

    Yvette, Mowg, and Lilith walked over the motel, which is around the corner from their house.  We walked one more block and went to a local restaurant for breakfast. The waitresses were a treat. One was a woman in her late 50s that brought joy to her job.  The food was fine.

    We talked about Mike during breakfast. I had a quiet cry while everyone else sat quietly. Again, I find I don’t think I’m sad, but then tears overwhelm me. Sorrow comes from some inner source. Surprise!

    When I got back to the motel, I asked if I could have a room with a higher toilet.  (The TV was irrelevant.  I watched my Amazon shows on my computer.)  All their toilets were the same size.  They are not a handicapped facility. Because they don’t have an elevator, they can’t accommodate people with mobility problems. They are a Wyndham hotel, and these were the toilets they provided. All the rooms were the same. 

    I went up to the room, napped, read, and I sent out the blog entries I had worked on during the flight.  I got eight done. I was still behind.   I only finished up to September 8th.

    Yvette, Lilith, and Mowg went into town.  Mowg had to spend some time at work.  They picked me up from around 5 pm, and we headed out to Erika and Mark’s house for dinner.  Brenda and her boyfriend, Scott, were going to be there too. I hadn’t seen Erika, Mark or Brenda for 25 years.  Looking at myself through their eyes, I realized how much I must have aged.  The twenty-five years between 54 and 79 are a dramatic, as dramatic as the difference between 15 and 35, but not as dramatic as between 20 and 45.  When my mom was in her 90s, she told me that the rate of degeneration excels with age.  She compared it to the rapid pace of growth which happens at the beginning of life.  

    It was good to see Brenda and Erika again and see they’re doing well.  There were 8 of us all together, 7 Bunces and their spouses/partners, and me.  I have been an unofficial family member in the past, but there was a disruption.  I enjoyed the conversation. 

    I also enjoyed rolling around on a hard roller. I had been in agony since I got off the airplane, my back, my hip, my neck. Oy vey!  Mowgli did a little massage; that didn’t help. Doing MELT on this hard roll worked, I discovered that the problem started on the back of my head.  I didn’t feel pain there until I rolled my head on the hard roll.  

    We had to leave the gathering early because Lilith had the 8:30 to 12:30 shift at the airport. Then Mowgli drove us home.  I listened to some more TV on my computer, wrote a few notes on about the day on the blog, and went to sleep.

________- _______-________

 

Musings;

 

I hate the expression, “Just be a human being and not a human doing.” What the hell does that mean?  How do you be without doing? 

    I got some insight into what other people may mean by this expression. Nonetheless, I think it is close to meaningless.  How do you ‘be’ without ‘doing.” 

    If I’m sitting in nature – which is not in my yard where I have to do- I am.  Well, at least I’m not thinking about doing something.  However, I am still doing.  I am observing. If I am sitting in my yard, I may allow myself a moment of “am,” but as I looked around, I think of what I have to do.     

    This state of ‘being’ versus ‘doing’ does not happen to me in yoga, where I hear the expression the most.  There I am observing my body carefully, very carefully. In yoga or when meditating, I am doing. They both require a lot of effort. 

Sunday, September 15, 2019

    Damon’s 47th birthday.  Where did the years go?

    

     Yesterday, I devoted the day to cleaning, packing, and traveling.   Today, I flew to Portland, OR to visit with Mowgli, Yvette’s brother, his girlfriend, Lilith, Yvette, who has been there since the 12th, and Yvette’s two sisters who live there.  

    I arrived in Portland around 10:30 pm.  As I made my way to Baggage Claim, people were coming up to help me.  The way they spoke to me, it was clear they saw me like a dotty old lady.  Oh, well.  I also think that Mike sicced these people on me.  He was overprotective of me, always afraid I would be hurt. Really??

    I had made a reservation at the Howard Johnson Airport Motel because it is within walking distance of Mowg and Lilith’s house.  I was told there was a shuttle, but I wasn’t told that I had to call Howard Johnson before they sent the shuttle.  Fortunately, a driver for a parking service asked me where I was going and told me I had to call for service.  

    Lilith warned me that it was a very basic place. Indeed.  When given directions to my room, the registrar told me that I had to walk upstairs to get to my third-floor room.  When a look of alarm crossed my face, he told me he would carry my bag up.  I asked him if he could also carry me up the stairs.  He answered literally that he couldn’t because of insurance reasons. 

    The room was fine, but only one bedside lamp.  I guess the motel figures that only one member of a couple is interested in reading. The real problem was the toilet.  When I sat down, my knees were higher than my hips.  I have never seen such a low toilet.   With my hip and back problems, getting on and off presented a challenge.   

 

Saturday, September 14, 2019

  

    Sorrow is catching up with me.  I am leaving tomorrow for a two-week trip to the mainland to visit the west coast family contingent: Portland, Seattle, San Francisco, and LA.  The first three will be okay. Damon is the LA stop. I have never visited Damon without Mike.  Everywhere else I go, including home, I can pretend he is out or traveling.  

    I slept alone frequently when he was alive.  There were years where he was away during the week and came home on weekends.  He worked in Albany for a couple of years while our home was in Brooklyn.  When he got his second Ph.D., he was in Washington D.C. from Monday through Thursday during the school seminars.  Then he commuted between Columbus, Ohio, and Princeton, NJ, his first year working at the seminary in case his contract wasn’t renewed after the first year.  

    I’m noticing that only certain people whose expressions of sympathy touch me and others that don’t. I don’t know what this is about. 

 

_________-________-__________

 

Musings;

    What does it mean to not think of ourselves? I see it as impossible.  We always consider ourselves whether we want to or not.  It’s just the way I feel thinking about Mike.  I rarely think of him; I’m always thinking of him. He’s part of who I am. If that’s how it is with him, how can it be less with myself?  While we are always focused on ourselves, we are usually focused on something outside of ourselves too.    In our relationship with the environment, I see ourselves at the center of concentric circles.  How many concentric circles depends upon us.  The inner rings represent what we are familiar with, and the outer rings that are open for the unfamiliar. 

    The innermost rings are only us if there is such a thing, which I doubt. Maybe we can say those innermost rings are basic physical survival of only ourselves. But the rings just outside of that center ring, which includes people and objects, which are not immediately related to our survival, become part of what we consider ourselves: our homes, our jobs, our spouses, our children, our religions, etc., etc.  The survival of those things become linked to our survival. In primitive times that survival was literal physical survival. These days we consider this more part of ego survival. The problem is confusing ego survival with actual physical survival.  Not to minimize the importance of the ego; it’s just not equivalent to physical survival.  Our reptilian brain, however, does not always know the difference. 

    Our attention is like a spotlight. We can focus it on any of the concentrate circles.  Sometimes, things demand our attention, but we are always rooted in that center circle.  We love getting out of ourselves and being part of something else. This is a basic human need. 

    Unfortunately, our need to be part of something large than ourselves does not always produce beneficial results; it can be either good, neutral, or downright bad.  The good is when we can see ourselves as connected to other humans.  In this day and age, the criteria would be all humans because we live in a global world.  When our brains were developed, it would have been our tribe and not some other tribe. Loyalty.  On the other hand, we can focus on a baby in need and, particularly if it is our baby, be prepared to sacrifice any form of comfort and even life itself. This is considered a good manifestation of our need to be part of and service something outside of ourselves. 

    When Mike was in the hospital for five weeks before he died, I was focused mostly on him.  I loved being focused on him. I didn’t think of myself as making a sacrifice or suffering in any way.  He grabbed all my attention. It was my blood pressure spike, which told me that it was even stressful.

    Neutral activities are equivalent to going to a rock concert.  Our senses are drowned in sound and sight; the responses of those around us impact us, carried away by the shared focus.  We are all part of the same thing.  Boy, what a thrill.  I am at this moment listening to a string quartet.  These players are experiencing a more controlled form of this surrender to something greater than each individual. (I would classify their experience as morally neutral. I anticipate some would take issue with me.) They are not just playing the notes in front of them; they listen carefully to each other. Their attention is on their actions and the actions of the other players.  Perfect harmony, literally.  This type of union is considered higher than attending a rock concert or listening to a concert by this very same quartet because the participants are active rather than passive.  They are not merely swept away by sight and sound, blinded, and deafened to anything else; they choose attentiveness.

    Unfortunately, this need to be part of something greater than ourselves can also go wrong. In an anthropology class, I learned that the word for humans was initially the same as the tribe name; they were synonymous.  Therefore, anyone not of the tribe was not human.  

    I have heard or read recently, sorry, don’t know where that oxytocin is released, not only when we love our own, but when we attack those who are not our own, particularly in the company of our own.  We’re seeing this a lot now.  Our need to be part of something greater than ourselves can indeed go horribly wrong.   

    How much we focus on an outer ring rather than an inner ring depends on how stimulating it is, how important it is to us (i.e., Mike to me), or how much attention we can bring to it (i.e., the quartet).  It can be very stimulating because it is demanding our attention, i.e., baby. Now a baby, particularly our own, while something separate from us, is also something that is part of us, close to the center of our sense of self.  A baby demands that we focus our attention on it and not on our center, but it is impossible to do it to the exclusion of our center. We either love caring for the baby or hate it, sometimes both in the same day. However, that baby is also very much part of our sense of self.  

    Other things can demand our attention, which are unfamiliar, not part of our sense of self in an immediate sense. These can take up a lot of brain energy to process.  Some err on the side of the familiar and some err on the side of the novel.  These experiences get our focus off that center, but it need not be healthy, good for us, or society at large.  It certainly doesn’t have to be altruistic.   Is addiction of any sort an unselfish act? The escape from ‘self,’ those center rings, is not always good for us.  Illegal drugs will do it; escapism of any sort: travel, extreme sports, changing partners, changing foods.  

    Too much ‘self’ and too much ‘not-self’ can both be a problem. Both are ways of escaping burdens of the human condition.  And then, there is always the irony of focusing on a false self in which we spend our time denying who and what we are.  That takes so much energy.

    Again, I refer to our evolutionary background.  The familiar was our group, as familiar as any group of people can be.  The unfamiliar was the changing environment.  Those folks did not have climate-controlled environments with food delivered to their doors.  Every minute was fraught with danger, the unexpected, the novel.

Friday, September 13, 2019

    Yvette left for Portland, Oregon on the red-eye last night.  I will meet up with her on Sunday night.  Mowgli has arranged to take off Monday and Tuesday from work to play with us.  Great.

    The seminary library director told me two boxes arrived out of the four — a moment of panic.  I checked the tracking numbers this morning. The other two are scheduled to arrive on September 23.  They mustn't have been on the same boat as the first two. 

    I've been giving relationship advice.  I don't think anyone can judge what is suitable for another person.  Years ago, I formulated a theory of complementary neuroses. This would apply to ALL couples.  When we have the luxury of choosing our mates ourselves, we choose them not only for things we like but also for things that remind us of unresolved issues with family members, unless we worked it out in therapy already. With any luck, those two people will grow in response to each other.  They will serve as each other's muse.  

    There are a few questions: are there things about this person you like? Can you live with the things about them you don't like without assuming they will change?  Will this person respect your point of view and work to make changes for their own sake or yours?  It may sound like the last two items contradict each other; they don't.  You have to assume that the person will never change, and they are good enough.  If there are things that irritate you, it will be your job to get into therapy and change yourself.  Making those changes in yourself can produce unexpected changes in your partner. Remember, the only person you can change is yourself.    

    An interesting development at school: I got a new insight into how the brain works while working with D. He often 'misreads' a word.  Today, he was misreading numbers.  I can't remember now why he was reading numbers, but he called out the wrong ones on several occasions. I could see it was a struggle for him. 

    I asked him if the letters and numbers were moving on the page or in his mind.  We had worked on that a few times doing spin releases.  He said no, that wasn't the problem. Everything on the page was visually stable.  I asked if the sounds were spinning in his head. He said no.  It was coming straight up from the back of his head.  I had him show me.  He moved his hand from the center of the back his to the forehead area.  I had already done some work with him on his auditory processing.  He had shown me that he remembered sounds in the forehead area, which, in my experience, is best suited for visual processing.  I reminded him to attend to his head's left side, experiencing the information coming from the left side of the back of his head going to the temple area. 

    He managed to explain to me that the one that moved up the center of his head got there first.  I told him to think of two friends speaking to him simultaneously and choosing which one to pay attention to.  I took two pencils, telling him to watch for the one that came up on the left side.  I then moved one pencil, through the air over his head down the centerline of his head quickly, and the other pencil slowly by the left side of his head.   We did this several times. 

    This activity reminded me of some work I did a few years ago on visual processing with a student who was having trouble with confusing sequences of letters.   I folded a paper into two columns: one column was how the word looked to her; the other column was the correct way.  I told her to go home and practice this. There was a vacation in here. When she came back, I asked her if she had done the exercise.  She said yes, but then it stopped working.  I gave her the exercise to do again.  She got every word sequenced correctly.  I pulled up the NY Times on my Kindle and gave her words she couldn't possibly be familiar with. After looking at them for a minute, she was able to write down each one correctly.  She realized the problem had been resolved.  The next day, I asked her if she had shown her mom. She said yes,. Her mom had said, "Holy Cow!"

    I realized then that there is more than one part of the brain providing information.  For some reason, some people keep both sources active.  Because of that, many children learn words incorrectly in the earlier grades.  These words continue to be a problem long after they have learned to read much more difficult words.  

    After this experience with D, I remembered something I heard somewhere (sorry, I have no idea of the source) about the process of translating from one language to another.  The researcher said we never actually translate, meaning we don't conjure words in the second language in response to the word in our first. Instead, we recall words in both languages from visual images.  The difference is that the response time in our first language is faster.  We hear the word in our mind in our language before we hear it in the other one.  Therefore, it seems that the trigger for bringing up the word in the second language is the word in the first, but it's not.   The word's response time in the second language is longer and overshadowed by our brains' response in the first language.

    So what if this is what happens with children who produce the wrong numbers, letters, or words?  They have been using the part of the brain that provides the wrong answers.  What fires together wires together.  That part of the brain has been used more frequently than the 'correct' section of the brain. That would make this problem for some of these readers an attention problem. What part of the brain are you paying attention to?

    This is not to say there can't be other problems too.  I have worked with children with more complicated issues.  While I have found ways to resolve many of those issues, that is not for this space.  I hope to cover some of that in my book.  Each of these exercises peels off another layer of students that are having problems with word recognition.  Nothing works for everyone.  

    Last night I found two books after an hour of searching. Tonight, I found none. Very frustrating.  I have been looking by subject matter. This approach no longer works.  I stood before one shelf and said, "Mike, this is too hard.  I can't do it." The idea of reorganizing the books on each shelf in alphabet order by author came to mind.  The book lists are organized by the author's last name. This would mean that I have to find all the Rs on the shelves to see if I can find a book by Ratzinger. Then I can check to see if it's the right book by Ratzinger.  I organized two shelves and found three books.  I had looked at the books on those shelves at least a dozen times before.

Thursday, September 12, 2019

    Life is becoming more routine.  I wrote about my daily routine when I first came home from my time in Oahu after Mike died.   Routine was important.  It anchored me. Now, it's just routine. Life's little chores. The routine makes me feel more like I'm doing nothing.  I need more stimulation. 

    Today's activities were: yoga, dropped off Styrofoam and UPS for recycling, Long's to buy Epson Salt's for my sore toe, the Post Office to mail four more boxes of books to the seminary in New Orleans, Kaiser Permanente pharmacist to pick up my blood pressure meds and Costco to pick up items that were not in and buy several more that I pick up routinely in case they're not in when I do need them.

    When I got home, I mailed a birthday card for Damon, who will be 47 this year. Unbelievable.  Where did the time go?  I also filled out a form for the NJ Division of Pensions and Benefits changing my tax withholding.  

    Then, after procrastinating as long as possible, I went down to finish off my work, getting the plumbago off my neighbor's fence.  Done!  Then I sprayed the cut area with Clorox.  I am experimenting.  We have a trash tree here that is impossible to kill that I had some success with.  I have killed one; I cut it down, scraped the remaining stump, and drowned it in either Clorox or gasoline. That's one out of several hundred on the property.  They took God's directive to go forth and prosper very seriously. I'm experimenting with spraying the leaves of the tree, provided it's not too big, with Clorox. I'm hoping the leaves will carry the acid down through the plant and kill it. Although this information will not be very relevant to anyone not from Hawaii, I'll let you know. 

    After I  finished with the plumbago, I went down and picked some more limes.  My tree runneth over.  A neighbor told me that her tree had stopped producing.  Maybe she has a different brand of the lime tree than I do.  Mine is producing, producing, and producing.  Maybe when I come back from the mainland at the end of September, it will be finished.

    I wrote the library director from the New Orleans seminary to tell him there were four more boxes on their way.  He told me he had received two packages. What happened to the other two?  I worry about them.  Because I reuse commercial boxes, I cover them with paper.  The address is written on the paper.  I fear that the paper will get ripped in the shipping process, and the box will get lost.  No, I did not insure them.  These are donated books that I ship at my expense.  I have no record of what books are in each box. Enough! I'm doing enough.  I still worry.  I wrap the boxes defensively, anticipating disaster along the way.  Oh, well. It's the best I can do.  Hopefully, the other two boxes just missed the boat the first two were on and will show up soon. 

    When writing, it is possible to make every moment of one's life interesting, at least to me, as I write.  I hope it amuses my readers.  I do enjoy writing. 

    I went off to school to work with the kids.

Wednesday, September 11, 201

    

    After Bikram, I went to the acupuncture’s office to pick up some pills.  The pill bottle had been set out, but there was no note saying it was for me.  I had to wait until the acupuncturist came out because she wanted to change the directions. Because I haven’t experienced much improvement, she upped the dose from three pills three times a day, to six pills twice a day.  We’ll see.  I’m game.  My hot flashes have gotten worse of late. I can’t remember if this is only since Mike’s death.

    I am dreading encountering family members along my west coast trip who are going to push hip replacement surgery. I’m not expecting many people would want to do it my way. However, it drives me crazy that these folks look at the dramatic, sudden difference the surgery made on the lives of those who had it and overlook that I am not in that kind of pain, and I have been steadily improving.  Yes, my process is slow, very slow, but I love it.  

    Some people think I’m improving because I’m exercising, which I believe means to them that I am working on strengthening my body and making it more flexible.  That doesn’t capture what I am doing.  I am using exercise to do unwinding and improve my posture, which has something to do with fascia, not muscle, tendons, or ligaments.   In the process, I am gaining strength and flexibility, but that is not the objective of my work.  

    I’m not expecting anyone else on the planet to be interested in doing what I am doing. I wouldn’t object if I were successful, and it became clear that there are alternatives to surgery.  However, even I am willing to consider cell transplant therapy. That can be used to replace cartilage.  That would be good -if the bone spur and large cartilage cyst in the hip would not still interfere with joint movement. 

    Heather, the Bikram teacher, told me about the CPR class given at the Firehouse at the airport.  She said 9/11 at 9 am, and 11 am.  I went out there for the 11 am class. The gate was locked. I made a few phone calls, and finally got hold of someone in the facility I was trying to get into .  Frank the Fireman, from yoga, came out to open the gate. He said the 9 am class was still in session, and the next class was at 1 pm.  Ah, Heather. Well, now I know where the class is.  I also know the course will be two hours long.  I came home and did some writing.

    I went back at 1 pm for the class.  I was lots of fun.  Showing us what to do took all of 10 minutes.  Most of the class was devoted to helping us get over any reluctance we might feel to doing it for someone who needed it.  The main presenter said that fear was the biggest obstacle, mainly when using CPR on people we know and love.  We’re afraid of hurting them.  The mantra was, “If you break a rib, it will heal. But dead is dead.”  In other words, go for it.  If someone doesn’t need CPR, they will say, “OW!” when you push on their chest.

    My biggest problem was that I didn’t seem to have the strength to do it.  My partner was a vet. She pointed out to me that I was doing the compressions in the wrong place. The directions are to find an area between the nipples. Problem: on women, at least on me, there is a good six-inch difference between where my nipples once were and where they are now.  I think this standard of measure is for men.  At any rate, when I was shown the right place, I couldn’t fully make those compressions.

    However, the presenter told a reassuring story. The program was initially designed so  someone could only receive their certificate of completion if they were able to do compressions for something like 2 minutes or was it 120 compressions.  At any rate, she taught a woman who couldn’t do that much.  The woman was denied her certificate. The next day, the woman called to say that her mother had collapsed and she had done compressions on her for 40 minutes straight and saved her life.  Moral of the story: with the aid of adrenaline, anything is possible. 

 _________-________-___________   

Musings:

    I had an interesting experience today.  I heard a song on the radio which appealed to me, but it appealed to the part of me that is lonely and yearning for something I can’t have, Mike. I didn’t want to enhance that emotion, but I found myself drawn back to the song over and over. It was becoming an earworm.  I knew that would not be good for me.

    I said, “No!” but I didn’t say no to the song, I said no to the part of me that was drawn to it.  I see this as something quite different than restraint in the sense that I usually think of it.  Restraint, as I have understood it up to now, is pulling on the reins of a runaway horse.  This experience of restraint is more like saying NO to a dog who I know well and who is dependent on me, a dog that will listen to me.  I am wondering if this difference in attitude, precisely in who is addressed when I say no, could be a useful tool for addicts.  I have to try it more with my runaway FreeCell playing.

    Oh, by the way. I have found a way to get myself to do more writing on my book.  I think of just doing a paragraph at a time.  If I want to do more, I do. Then I can do something else. And, then I can come back to it because it is only a small chore, a little bite of the apple.

 

Tuesday, September 10, 2019

  

    I went to school yesterday and worked with the three kids, K, D, and B.  K is the one who gives me attitude.  I know it’s a defense against bone-shattering fear.  Last time I worked with her, I asked her where she felt the bad feeling in her body. She said all over and described it on her back.  It sounded like shame to me.  I didn’t have a chance to work on it at that time.  Nonetheless, her behavior was better today than it had been. She delayed a little less before coming out to work with me.  I used EFT on the negative feelings she described the other day.  “Even though I have this terrible feeling when I make a mistake, I choose to know that I am safe.”  I used Pat Carrington’s format. (I wrote I did this yesterday. I lied.)  

I did the set up on the karate point. I used 8 tapping spots, adding on the top of the head. I went through all the spots for the first half of the setup, and all the points again for the second half of the setup and then went through all the points again, alternating between the first and second half of the setup phrase.  She said she went from a 10 to a four on the SUDS scale.  That is a satisfying improvement for one pass.  She may need more help with this in the future, but we know what works now.  After we did the EFT, she was somewhat more cooperative. She still twisted her body and head to look away, but I could get her to put her eyes on the work by just politely saying, “Please, put your eyes here on the work.”  I sometimes had to repeat this more than once, but it took her less time to respond. We agreed on how much she had to read.  When we completed it, I asked her if she would do one more page. She said yes. WOW! We’re moving in the right direction.  I see a little improvement in her cooperation with every session. She also told me – reluctantly- that she is improving.  How does someone so young become so withholding?

    During the last session, D made it clear he was having problems remembering things he has heard and seen.  With the listening exercise, his short-term memory worked very well. When I gave him a sentence to repeat, he could do it correctly.  The problem was that he couldn’t remember what he heard afterward. I worked on having him pull up information from his long-term memory.  It doesn’t look like there is anything neurologically wrong with him.  He just developed a habit of not using his long-term memory. Why someone doesn’t wind up using it is a mystery? As he worked, he remembered the sentence I had given him even after repeating other sentences and doing other activities - distractors.  I taught him to ask his long-term memory to provide him with the information and then w-a-i-t and listen for the answer.  

    I worked with B on both spelling and word recognition. He remembered that this spelling lesson features different spellings for the long o sound. That’s a good start.  He was able to produce the phonemic sounds in each word reasonably well.  He only had a problem with one word, where he pronounced the word with a short o, and he still had some difficulties pronouncing the sh as an /s/, and the s and a /sh/. But the good news is that he started using the crossbody blending strategy on his own.  Yay!

    Today was the day Elsa got her heartworm meds and the top spot for tick and flea protection. She loves the heartworm pill and tolerates the top spot application reasonably well. She’s a good girl. 

 

_____-____-_____

   

Musings:

 

 

    As part of my perspective from evolutionary psychology, I think that all human drives that survived into the 21 century have something to do with survival, survival during the period where our brain circuitry was built.  So how do fame, fortune, and power translate to survival? 

    Fortune is the easiest to deal with.  There are basic needs for food, water, and shelter, and I will throw in aesthetics. In other words, we prefer something not just safe, but we have a preference for clean and comfortable, too;  I’m adding on the last two because they are part of my minimal standard.  Once we have satisfied those criteria, the rest is gravy. The pursuit of those standards in primitive times had something to do with survival, particularly the safe test. I suppose that the criteria could be extended to clean and comfortable if the environment were safe enough. 

    In the 21st century, the criteria for safe, clean, and comfortable far surpass anything our ancestors had, including the wealthiest people in the 15th century.   But not everyone has this minimal standard.  People are living in refugee camps whose circumstances do not meet it.  On the other hand, some people live far above the criteria.  As I have learned to consider what I have as a basic necessity, they learn to consider luxury a basic necessity.  What I have is luxury to many people on the planet. Very confusing. There are moral issues here:  how much do I need for myself if it limits what others have?

    There are minimal standards for clean water and decent food.  We all understand clean water. Or do we?  I live in an area of the world where I don’t have to worry about getting water I can safely drink. (If you don’t include the discussions about the fluoride and all the pharmaceuticals that have leached into the water supply.) I know that I’m lucky. 

    Food. I don’t think anyone questions that this is a basic need. We were designed to pursue food. Without it, we would all die. Every animal pursues food, but not every animal has access to the amount of food some of us have today. Now food’s pretty easy for me.  I’m not a gourmand or gourmet.  I eat to stay alive. My indulgences run in the area of Hersey Milk Chocolate bars with whole almonds, and sometimes Haagen Das ice cream.  While I don’t need much in terms of food, I do need the basics, and I need to know I can get it whenever I want, assuming it is during the store’s opening hours.

            On the other hand, some need heaping plates of expensive and exotic foods.  We pursue food, and then we seek more food. This pursuit of material goods is the pursuit of fortune.  But so much more is available. More and more and more is better. If there is more accessible, do I have to pursue it?  For some people having it all is the minimum standard. In primitive times, all was quite limited and worthy pursing.  Now that we have abundance on top of abundance, pursing all we can get is not such a good idea, either for ourselves or for others.    

    Then there is fame.  What could the function of fame be? Well, in primitive times, it would be essential to be known by every person in your group.  You want to be recognized as part of the in-crowd. Otherwise, you could get yourself killed.  Perhaps, that fame could extend to a neighboring tribe that would identify you if you came by and not harm you as a result.  But nowadays, being known by everyone in our tribe has an entirely different meaning. In primitive times, that knowledge was mutual.  Now it is possible to be recognized by someone we don’t know.  Possible??? It’s a given for anyone on social media.  

    Power, ah, power.  I think it is as simple as ‘ might makes right.”  I don’t remember where I heard that expression.  It’s old, and it certainly applied to the upper class. It was an equation, “If I do it= it’s right.” Sort of like the expression, “It’s Thursday, it must be Belgium.” (Anyone remember that New Yorker cartoon?) There’s no logic. It is by fiat.  Oh, to be in that position and be able to assure your safety.  I think most human conflict, once the basic material needs are addressed, is over who’s right- about anything. We see these conflicts between family members and between countries.  We are prepared to fight, die, and kill to defend our views.  

    Humility: back to this subject.  It has to do with understanding our minimal needs, in the world we live in, I’m going to add plus some. At what point does this all become excessive? Why is enough, never enough?  Why do we compulsively pursue fame, fortune, and power?  They are survival skills at a basic life level, but many have surpassed that point and purse more and more and more. Why?  Maybe like Oprah, they never feel they have enough even though they are considered one of the people who have the most in the world. Or is it the Pringle Potato chip problem: We can’t just have one, not even if we are satisfied by it.  How do we stop this rampage?  Religions address this issue; both in how our behavior affects others and how our behavior affects us.

Monday, September 9, 2019

    I just slept in today instead of going to Bikram.  I compensated by doing a long walk. For the second time, I saw an elderly lady struggling on her walk up the hill.  I spoke to her.  Her name is Ginny, and she is 90.  I wouldn’t have guessed that much; she was doing pretty well.  She was walking slowly but taking on a pronounced incline.  She moved here recently to live with her youngest son, who didn’t want her living alone anymore.  I think she’s my kind of lady. Among other things, she is looking for a yoga studio. 

    When I got home, I worked on the plumbago, just about finished pulling it off the fence. Then I showered and went to school to tutor my three students.

    K. admits, reluctantly, that she is reading better. She doesn’t want to give anyone any points, oh no. She finally gave a two thumbs up, but she still had that terrible feeling when she makes a mistake in reading. I did some EFT with her. “Even though I still make mistakes when I read, I know that I am safe,’ was the setup, and I used Pat Carrington’s format for the tapping. Her SUDS level dropped from a 10, distressed to a 4, where she felt safe.

    With D, I worked on his auditory processing.  His short-term memory was good; he can repeat a sentence correctly, but then he has trouble with long term memory. I showed him a better spot for short-term auditory memory and how to encode and decode from long term memory. He practiced this recall skill, using those spots, for the rest of the class.

    B. says his reading is much improved.  He says his mother recognizes that but no jumping up and down for joy.  What a shame.  It’s not that he is doing grade-level work, but improvement should always be recognized, as well as effort  Pushing beyond previous limits should always be celebrated. He still does not stop to write down and process the words he doesn’t know.  I think the first step is getting him to recognize that he doesn’t know and stop the wild guessing based on the first letter of the word.  That would be a good start.  When he does write them down and go through the procedure I recommend, he usually gets them on the first try. When he doesn’t get them on the first try, he shifted a sound from the front to the back of the word or vice versa or intruded another sound.  When he does the cross body blending, that problem is eliminated.  I can’t get him to do this on his own so far.  Oh, well.  Just a few moves at a time.  I see improvement in his use of context clues to figure out the word when his pronunciation is slightly off.  He wasn’t doing that at all when we started. He didn’t even understand that was what he was supposed to do it. 

    I left school a bit earlier than I more normally do.  I had an appointment with the acupuncturist at two and then with the chiropractor at three.   I still see no change in the hot flashes with the needle treatments and the Chinese herbs.  The problem isn’t that I have them; they have become private downpours over the last few years. The acupuncturist recommended ‘cooling’ foods.: asparagus, watermelon.  I stopped off at Safeway to snag those two before I went home. When I got home after those two treatments, I slept. 

    Yvette and I had a dinner date.  It was three slices of Kona Crust Pizza, two for me, one for her.  We ate in the library so we would be alone.  Kathrin would have left the house if I had asked her, but I didn’t. The library worked just fine.  I like that we are making an effort to connect more.

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Musings:

    Toni Morrison wrote an article for the Book Review section of the NY Times for September 8 dealing with the question of goodness and altruism.  She reports that she found a bewildering number of conflicting definitions for both terms.  She wrote, “Thinkers, of whom none was as uninformed as I was, have long analyzed what constitutes goodness, what good is good, and what its origins are or maybe.” 

    I give a lot of thought to these topics.  I find simplistic answers tough to bear.  I have only vague ideas as to why this is so upsetting to me.  She listed the diverse interpretations of altruism.  What is the term when you read something that supports your opinion and latch on to it as evidence of validation?  That’s what I’ve done here. To that end: different “interpretations, contrary analyses, and doubt. A few of these arguments posited wildly different interpretations:

1.    Altruism is not an instinctive act of selfness, but a taught and learned one.

 

2.    Altruism might actually be narcissism, ego enhancement, even a mental disorder made manifest in a desperate desire to think well of oneself to diminish self-loathing.

 

3.     Some of the most thought-provoking theories came from scholarship investigating the DNA, if you will, seeking evidence of an embedded gene automatic firing to enable the sacrifice of oneself for the benefit of others; a kind of brother or sister to Darwin’s “survival of the fittest.””

    

    Do I need to tell you who know me that I think all three can play a role?  I have at least one more to add to the list: Once someone has decided that they want to live a life caring and protecting others,  they practice it daily.  With that practice, as with any form of behavior practiced, soccer, table manners, reading, etc., the response can become automatic.  Therefore, when someone finds themselves in a situation calling for an immediate response, they have programmed themselves to give that response of self-sacrifice, even of life.  Yes, I think that it is part of self-image, “I am a good person.” But no, I don’t believe this is always an indication of a mental disturbance.  When the genetic component of altruism hasn’t been disturbed or downright destroyed,  combined with social input on the value of caring for others and practicing something, or better yet someone, good may come out of it.

    Many years ago, I heard a lecture on self-image.  The speaker said most people need to be seen as good people. Even serial killers will argue they are not bad people; they only did something bad. This is another nagging question: when do we say someone is not a good person?

    My speculation on the ‘genetic’ source is that being seen as good by our group was essential to our survival.  Anyone who wasn’t seen as good was threatened with expulsion from the group and certain death. 

    While the need to see ourselves and be seen by others as good people may be universal,  I am particularly suspicious of those who match the second definition of altruism, see above. I think I can tell who they are because they keep insisting that they never think of themselves. Yikes!  I think they are downright dangerous for anyone they come in contact with. But then, aren’t we all?  All we can hope for is to do the least damage possible without having to wipe ourselves out totally.  We humans face quite a challenge.