Sunday, October 6, 2024
I was awake by 12:45 a.m. after going to bed at 9:30. Instead of lying in bed and struggling to sleep, I got up and wrote. I committed ideas for videos and my thoughts on how to teach in general and reading specifically to paper. Promoting my ideas, or is it just informing people of my teaching approaches, is something I desperately want to do, and I am entirely log-jammed. I have been broaching this subject in therapy for at least the last 25 years. I am terrified. I have no idea about what. I'm not only not expecting a devoted following. I dread the thought.
I hope some people can make use of the methods I've developed. I particularly want them used in schools with poor educational records. I don't believe my methods are the only thing that works. Still, I know the volunteer tutors in the LA program I worked in made progress with their students after half an hour of instruction on using the method. It's cheap and flexible. I do appreciate many teachers would not be comfortable using it because it involves thinking on your feet instead of having a definite answer. That would be hard for many teachers. However, there are ways they could incorporate the method with a few adaptations. One of the hallmarks of the method is it's based on sensory perception of speech sounds instead of teacher-directed pronunciations. It leaves room for dialectal differences as well as individual speech patterns. You are not teaching 'correct' pronunciation at the same time you are teaching reading. However, the method can be used to teach pronunciation. It is effective for speech therapy. My video, 5 Stories, breaks down each word into its phonemic units and has helped several people overcome speech defects.
When I weighed myself at 12:45 a.m., after getting up and writing for two hours, I weighed 131.5. I went back to bed at 2:45 a.m. I weighed myself again when I got up for the day at 5:30. The scale said 130.5. I doubt I lost a pound in five hours.
Once the Eucharist had been distributed at Mass, I searched for Beth. She was one of the people who distributed the Eucharist. I had seen her on the altar. I found her sitting in a seat right by the glass door. She slid open the door so we could speak. I told her Claire had died. Claire was a woman who came to Mass every Sunday in a wheelchair from the Regency retirement home. She hadn't been coming recently because her health had declined sufficiently, and the doctors weren't willing to release her for Mass. Beth had gone and visited her. I knew she was concerned. I had learned of her death from one of the other residents who I had contact with.
Damon called during Mass. The moment the service was over, I called him. I didn't head to my car to leave. Jean met me at church at 10:30, and we went out for breakfast. I walked back and forth on the north lanai of the church while we spoke. He told me how his new movie was coming along. It was scheduled for release in February. They were still making minor adjustments to the script. Ee Gad. We also spoke about his mom, my Hanai sister, who is suffering and only talks about that suffering. It's a problem for those who call to speak to her, and it's a problem for her. She limits her.
Jean called when she arrived. I went to meet her. Because Jean complained about knee pain, I wanted to instruct her on ways to protect her knees. Most people do the exact opposite of what they should do. We have to tighten our thigh muscles, take the impact of the step in the hip instead of the knees, and allow that impact to travel up our bodies and out the top of our heads. If we tighten up, we damage at least one body part.
First, I wanted to show her how to tighten her thighs without locking her knees. I lifted my skirt and showed her how I tightened my thighs even with my knees bent. Then, I wanted to show her how to tighten the abdominal muscles. You don't pull the stomach toward the back; you think of pulling the muscles up to form the rib lock, as Gokhale teaches. I had her put her hands on my abdomen and feel the difference between the two moves. Last, I wanted her to feel the movement in the hip joint. She placed her hands on my groin. I loved the interaction. We are both uninhibited people who don't care what others think of us.
While I'm not concerned about what others think of me, I am concerned about their comfort. I appreciate that someone might be uncomfortable because I can behave uninhibited and sometimes outrageously. I think it's funny. Those who are self-conscious aren't so keen on my public displays. Comedy requires disorienting your audience- a bit. People who are self-conscious about appropriate behavior shouldn't be around me.
Mike had problems with it. Once, we were in an Italian restaurant in Little Italy in NYC. I observed a dish being delivered to a neighboring table. I asked the woman the name of the dish. Poor Mike nearly died. It was even worse when the woman asked me if I'd like a taste, and I accepted. People who are inhibited think everyone is like them. I'm sure there are many people like them. However, they do not experiment and learn that there are others like us who are uninhibited, friendly people. Those of us who do reach out experiment. Do we always get it right? No, of course not. What a ridiculous expectation. But neither do those inhibited souls. I think they figure no harm can be done if they do nothing. But that's not always true. I think of myself as adding connections between people. Adding something wonderful to the world.
I do worry about people taking action when they don't like my behavior or what I represent. I do worry about that. Afterward, I thought about my actions with Jean. While it was totally innocent, others may not have seen it that way. I wouldn't have cared, but we did it right in front of the church. There might be consequences. I would have considered the incident funny if they had just been strangers. passerbys feeling distressed could have walked away. I love absurdity.
Jean and I went to Papa Kona's across the street from the church. Jean wanted to have pancakes with coconut and maple syrup. Coconut syrup didn't sound good, but the pancakes were huge and fluffy. There was plenty of maple syrup, so I didn't have to worry. I love the view from that restaurant. It is right at the water's edge. The breaking waves can be loud enough to make conversation challenging.
Jean and I went to Unity of Kona afterward for the sound bath. We put mats on the floor and lay down. It was lovely. The crystal-sounding bowls are nice, but the drums are better for me.
I went home to nap after that event. I had a scheduled appointment with fourth-grade MH. Her father texted to make it later because they were at a basketball event. He eventually texted to cancel because they played an extra game.
Jean called later in the day, and we did our water meditation over the phone. We do the water meditation daily. It's a wonderful commitment. We have a chance to connect daily, and we do this routine, which positively affects our lives. The water meditation: Below is the script we follow:
"Science and spirituality have proven that water listens to us; water is alive. So try the water meditation. Take a glass of water in both hands, close your eyes, and smile. Tell the water the one thing you want to manifest (we do) in the next twenty-four hours. Tell the water how much you appreciate everything it does for you. Open your eyes, smile, and take another large drink of water. Allow the healing effects of the water to flow into every cell of your body and transform your vibration so you can manifest your desire." For Jean and me, it is an opportunity for gratitude and prayer.
She told me she experienced healing during the sound bath. She had been in considerable pain before. In the middle of the sound bath, her pain worsened—and then it went away. After the bath, her leg was no longer swollen, and all the pain she had before the sound bath was gone.
As I drove from the restaurant to the church for the sound bath, I caught some of the Hidden Brain broadcast. It had been advertised as being about people's responses to art. I hadn't been interested. The topic interested me greatly: people's tolerance for ambiguity and uncertainty versus their need for closure and certainty. Relative to others, I have a high tolerance for uncertainty. I have a relatively low tolerance for people who need certainty and are certain about what they do. My mom was like that.
One extraordinary story exemplifies her behavior. I was home for the holidays. I decided to throw a dinner party. My sister was also home; she was included. I invited my friend Flo, with whom I shared a home while we both taught school in East Northport on Long Island. Two male friends from the University of Wisconsin who came to NYC to take in the sights were also there. To grease the social connection, I left setting the table and making the salad for my guests. This was in opposition to my mother's ideas of good hosting. While my guests were preparing the salad and chatting amicably, my mother burst into the kitchen and screamed at my guests for cooperating with me. Dorothy, my sister, saved the day. She said, "Sometimes it's so bad, it's just funny." There wasn't much we could do. My mom retreated after her outburst, and we went on with the dinner party.
I am terrified of people who thrive on closure. They are all control freaks. They need to have everything their way. They don't think of it as being their way. It's just that they know the right way to do everything; if you're not doing it that way, there's something wrong with you. My vision of hell.
Now, these folks are not all wrong. We need people who function that way in society as much as we need people who advocate for change and situational ethics. It's the push-pull of the social contract. If either side gets too much power, we're out of balance, punishing order or total chaos ensues. I represent the side that works for flexibility and situational responses. I look at everything with a statical eye. It's dirty work, but someone has to do it.
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