Saturday, December 17, 2022

Saturday, December 17, 2022

 

   I went to bed before 9:30 and read a little before trying to fall asleep. I had slept most of the day because I wasn't feeling well. The vertigo had cleared, but the lousy feeling hadn't. As a measure of how bad I felt, I didn't want any Hersey's milk chocolate nuggets with whole almonds. That's an accurate measure of my state of being.

  I wasn't surprised to find I couldn't fall asleep. I planned to meditate through the night. Lying down provides physical rest; meditating provides mental rest. I was in a rested state but couldn't shut my mind off. I have been more anxious since Mike died. He was my safe place. He protected me from my mother. He didn't have to do anything; he once quietly sat by my bedside while I napped at her house. That's all he had to do. My mother respected strong statements from men with pleasure. Now that he's gone, I feel I have no one to protect me or comfort me when I am attacked. All attacks, even from my mother, were and are verbal. I am more anxious now because of his absence. It's harder for me to blow off bad interactions.

   I spent a good part of the night wrestling with what the Buddhists call "the monkey mind" and what neurologists call the 'default brain,' the one that buzzes away unless we're focused on something else.

   I must have dozed on and off. I didn't have an insomniac night because I had accepted that I couldn't sleep. I was peaceful. In the morning, I was aware of that sense of stress inside my body, which meant something was pressing uncomfortably on my soul. Looking at it, it felt like I had a pile of ash inside me. I followed the mindfulness technique and watched it without either craving or aversion. (It's a neat trick. Everyone should learn it.)  I had a moment when I felt so empty and useless and lost. Then, I experienced myself as empty. The shell of my body was there, but there were no insides. I know it sounds horrible, but it wasn't. It was wonderful. The source of my reactivity was gone, not because I denied it or pushed it away, but because I accepted it with a peaceful mind. For the first time, I understood the Buddhist concept of emptiness.

    I experienced the empty space inside of me as invulnerable to reactivity. The Christian hymn Blest Be the Lord is about not fearing the "and the arrow that flies at day." That arrow cannot cause harm. That's what this was. The arrows and swords would pass right through me. There was nothing to latch on to.

  As I understand it, people with locked-in syndrome experience life that way. Despite their desperate condition, being locked into bodies without sensation means they can't experience inner distress. They're happy as they are, even with active minds.

  I doubt I can maintain this mental state, and I don't think I want to. I heard Batchelor speak about it in a YouTube interview. Buddhist meditation is sometimes referred to as "the opiate of the middle class." Knowing when to be active and when to be passive is an art. I always refer to the AA prayer. No Buddhist teacher I have worked with has advocated 100% peaceful resignation. Buddhism only teaches how to create change in ourselves- a very valuable skill, but never the whole ball of wax.

    It was water pick-up day. Elsa and I drove to Paulette's to get the water and visit. I told Judy I wanted to write my material for beginning readers. I use Carpenter's stories with my students but can't share them with other teachers. If I write my own, I can give them to whomever I want. I planned to base the sequence of letter inclusion on the Orton-Gillingham sequence. I don't believe phonics needs to be taught sequentially as Orto-Gillinghmam recommends. Still, it is a convenient framework for me to use.

   Judy said she had material I could use. While I was visiting Paulette, Judy ran upstairs to find the material for beginning students. I was looking for something else. It was pictures with single sentences underneath them.

   Meali'inani called while I was still at Paulette and Judy's. 

It was a good thing she called. She was twenty minutes away. She wanted me to confirm my address. She was stopping by to drop off some vitamins I bought from her at a discount. One was a large bottle of cod liver oil, which she recommended to help with my dry eyes. Elsa put Meali'inani to work throwing balls for her. One of the balls got under something. Elsa had my guest on her hands and knees looking for that ball. Elsa has no consideration.

    I spoke to ninth-grade K's mother about the vacation schedule. I recommended I see him daily. I planned to work with him using the book Hatchet. He does well with outdoor activities like fishing and hunting. Hatchet is a survival story of a thirteen-year-old boy who finds himself alone in the Canadian wilderness after a plane crash. While she ordered the book for him, she not only didn't agree to more sessions during the Christmas break but also reduced our sessions to half an hour twice a week instead of three times. It was a tense conversation. Again, I expected her to fire me. It might not be a bad idea. I don't know how to help her son. Does he have an intellectual disability, or is it an emotional problem? I swing back and forth between the two.  

    On the other hand, K would benefit from an educational evaluation. I estimate his verbal ability is at a 7- or 8-year-old level. Some of his mother's anger is toward herself. She put him in a school that didn't require verbal skills in any language. It is supposed to be a Hawaiian emergent school. According to K, none of the students learned enough Hawaiian to converse in the language. I can imagine she believed he was just quiet; he had thoughts he chose not to share. He had no thoughts, at least not ones that could be expressed with words. I would love to know what a speech and language therapist would do with this boy. 

   My plans are to have him talk about the book Hatchet. I will have him read a passage and then put what he read in his own words. Wish me luck!