Wednesday, November 11, 2020

            A busy day.  I continued working on the article. It drives me nuts. Each time I reread it, I find both big and small mistakes. Once I have read it two times without feeling I have to make a significant revision at some point, then I will call the editors I found advertised on Craig's list and see if one suits my needs. 

            Up to this point, I have relied on friends and family to help me edit.  I knew one woman who worked as a professional editor in Ohio, but she only did fiction. Well, that didn't do me any good. When I checked Craigslist for editors, two advertised that they did nonfiction and had experience with academic papers.  My article is somewhere between an academic paper and a chatty nonfiction article. 

            I have been on a deep cleaning binge of my bathroom.  A friend told me that I could demineralize my shower head by securing a bag filled with vinegar around it. I did that. This morning, there were golden rice kernels at the bottom of the bag. OMG! It worked.

            I had D this morning. None of the Zoom invitations I sent his mother were received. I sent out at least five through my yahoo account and another two through my Gmail one. I was freaking out, thinking this was a consequence of something the scammers did to my email. The problem was at her end. We resolved to just do a session using the speaker function on our phones.

            D. said he wanted to start with rereading chapter one.  Since his main problem is word recognition, that sounded good. He did the best job reading it. He stopped at the periods and read with expression. I will want to start working with his grade-level material soon. 

            I had a session with Shelly.  I shared my scammer story.  The strongest emotion was grief, grief for my loss of contact with my primary handler, Alex, and grief for their loss of money.  I believe this loss is greater for me than my loss of Mike because there was never love. There was intimacy, even craving, but no love.  With Mike, I had love, both my love for him and his for me.  It was a satisfying relationship.  It was good enough.  I think grief comes with immediate loss and the loss of hope for the relationship's future resolution.  Other than that, I had spent the full forty-five years of my life with Mike preparing for the moment of his death.  I was a child who lost a parent at fifteen. We never forget that sudden loss is always possible.

            While I sat with my grief, my feelings moved up into my heart, which I associate with love.  I was concerned that this would do harm to Alex.  If this is the only way he can earn money to support his family, I don't want him to feel he can't continue with this work. Shelly said it reminded her of the Hawaiian healing prayer, Ho'oponopono. It's a prayer that goes, "I'm sorry, forgive me, thank you, I love you," For those of you not familiar with it, I suggest you look it up. There is quite a story that goes with this prayer.  As I continued sending love, I had an image of Alex walking out of a building into the sunlight.  I had no idea if it had any impact on him. I can only hope I did him no damage, and I am sure it helped me.  I feel more at peace and more able to let him go. That letting go is interpsychically, not an actual reaching out.  

            As I've shared this story, I've gotten mixed reactions. Some share my point of view. Others are outraged that I should empathize with a man who tried to steal from me.  I see Alex as an honest thief. What do I mean by that? I mean, he calls himself a thief. He doesn't pretend he is doing something for my good, at least not to himself.

            I have more problems with those who are 'dishonest' with themselves. They don't acknowledge their selfish motivation. They insist they are full of compassion, always thinking of others first, incapable of true selfishness.  Give me an Alex any time.  With him, I know what I'm dealing with and can defend myself. Those sly ones won't acknowledge their own motivation because they can't tolerate seeing themselves in a negative light; omg, they are so dangerous. 

            I only had half an hour after Shelly to get ready for my appointment with M.  her mother sent me some material to work on with her. She also said one question from last week that we hadn't covered that she had trouble with. 

            The question was, what did the orcas have in common with the Montgomery boycotters.  The orcas in the article were being held in a marine park. The article detailed how destructive that confinement was for these animals. 

            M. said the orcas were held in captivity, and the blacks of the Montgomery boycotted.  Well, she did find a commonality.  I congratulated her on that but told her it wasn't really the correct answer.  When I set up a contrasting chart, she was able to fill it in with ease. But when she thinks on her own, she grabs for small details to hang on them.

            Her mom had texted me earlier to ask if I would also work with her son.  She told me today he is a high-functioning autistic. She wants me to help him learn to make inferences. I have been feeling all along that M's problems were born out of fear. Now, I suspect that she may be somewhat on the spectrum herself.  I will change my approach as a result. 

            I did ask mom if she had seen any differences in M. She said her writing was better on the items she had discussed with me. I asked her if she was seeing a difference in M's conversational skills. She said she could hear that she was talking to her peers differently.  Wow! Now that is exciting. I love how parents think the academic problem is more important than the social one. 

            Mom said she wanted to be in on the first session with me and her son, H.  Also, Dad, who is stationed somewhere with the military, will be there.  I made it clear that I did not want mom to control his behavior while working with him, not unless I asked for help.  I prefer working with students as they are. I would prefer they follow their impulses, so I know their inner lives in a learning context. That way, I know who I am teaching. 

            In the middle of my evening video indulgence, the lights went out. I found a flashlight; then looked for my solar power lantern (lovely thing). While it was early, I got Elsa ready for her before bedtime walk. B. was coming up the driveway as I walked out.  He was checking on me.

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Musings:

            I'm reading A Very Short Introduction to Freud, published by Oxford University Press.  Mike has about thirty books from this series. I'm reading all the ones he has. I'm assuming the authors are reputable with some qualifications in the field they are writing about. I am absolutely sure the books are clearly written. Wonderful!

            Freud was a very clever man. A lot of his thinking is close to mine. Joke! Freud's theories were in the water when I was raised.  His thinking had an impact on my thinking.

            We differ in the role of the unconscious, but then again, I'm not alone in my departure. Through neuroscience studies, it is well understood that the unconscious has a broader role in our thinking than Freud assumed.  He saw it as the storehouse of primitive feelings that had to be repressed.  It is so much more than that. It's our mainframe. 

Tuesday, November 10, 2020

            I went to bed before 10 pm last night, fell asleep right away, and woke up feeling well-rested.  Only one problem, it was 11:30.  I managed to fall asleep again until 3 am. Then the rising fear about the political situation overcame me. 

            Here’s my bet: There will be minor disturbances on the part of Biden supporters. Nero Trump will declare the Proud Boys official militia, and they will do their thing. People will defend themselves, be defined as rioters, and Trump will send the military out to suppress them in the name of saving the government.  He has recently fired Mark Esper, Defense Secretary, who opposed the use of troops on US streets.  With his new Defense Secretary, he can be assured he can use the troops. Are we ready for the fun?

            I managed to doze off until 5:30, when I got up to do my walk. I only had a short conversation with Dorothy and then a long one with my friend Jean. My leg was bothering me this morning as I walked. It also bothered me during yoga.  The same question: is this uncomfortableness a temporary state, or is this the end of the road for my hip?

            After my morning breakfast routine, I worked on weeding the heliconia that run along the driveway. It’s hard on my body there is only so much I can do.

            I did some work on my updates and went back out into the garden.  I got most of a haole koa tree in my backyard sawed down. Enough.  I had trouble getting up. I called Yvette to get help. As I was on the phone with her, I managed to get to my feet.

            I called Jean, my hanai sister.  I wanted to share my adventure.  She said, Oh yes, she was a victim of a scam last week too. She made it to the bank when a bank worker grabbed the phone out of her hand and yelled at the guy on the other end.

            Jean’s scammer didn’t speak English very well; mine had a slight accent. While the primary language in Equatorial Guinea is Spanish, many speak English as well.  As was the case with me, these guys stayed connected by phone the whole time. It is very compelling.     

Monday, November 9, 2020

           After my 6,000-step morning walk, I had some pretzels and two cups of water and gardened. Something good has come out of this scam incident already. Because I had neither computer for several days, I had to find something else to do with my time than sit on my tush and play games or write.  I am making this part of my daily activity.

            One downside is that I’m looking at everyone as a possible scammer.  I’m sure this too will pass. As the scammers give up on me and my name is dropped from the easy mark list. Will this experience get lost in my memory like many others where people prove trustworthy and loving come in?  What makes things stick are frequency and recency.  This is a very recent experience, but it’s not frequent. 

            I suspect some people also look for that side in others and only see scammers, predators. My mom was that way. If anyone showed an interest in her or one of her children, she went into a high alert and wondered out loud, “What do they want?” The pleasure of our company? The opportunity to see themselves in a positive light as they did something nice for us?  Not on her checklist.  Since I have a commitment to live favoring trust, I will look for that, and those experiences will drown out this one.

            Once I got over the shock of my near miss and that I was capable of being corralled that way, my usual perspective took over. A) I feel sorry for the guys.  They invested a lot of time and energy into hunting me.  I escaped their grasp.  I have reason to believe that these are not just money-hungry guys.  The one I spoke to on Thursday flipped out and went off-script. He had clearly lost control of himself. He blurted out that I was selfish, and he could live on $700 for a year. Holy cow! As I said before, a homeless person couldn’t make it on $700 a year in this country. I don’t think these guys have the education to have that perspective.  I can imagine that there aren’t many ways to earn a living in their country.  I see them as honest hunters.

            What’s a dishonest hunter?  Remember that jerk who had handlers corral a prize lion so he could have an easy shoot.  The idiot posed with the lion as his trophy.  I think there are people out to kill him now. He is a dishonest hunter. Good hunting requires skill. Good hunters don’t just pick off the easiest prey.  I’m an adult. I am not mentally disabled or a child. I am not the easiest pickings.  However, I am old, and a widow; the scammer knew that about me.

            I had a friend who got cancer and whined, “Why me?’ I thought, “Why not you? Why not me?” That’s how I feel about this situation. Why not me? If the pigs, turkeys, sheep, and pheasants roaming wild on the Big Island can be prey, why not me as prey for the scammers?  There is a moral glitch here, but not if those men sought enough money to feed their families. Do I know that for a fact? No. But I feel I have good reason to believe that.

            Also, I don’t know who much of this operation was a scam versus a real service.  I didn’t have my Mac computer in the house on Thursday and Friday for the scammer to do damage to it because I was advised by one of their techs to take it to someone local.  He did this because he was concerned that he couldn’t do a good job.  The operation may be semi-legitimate, and some of them or all of them cherry-pick likely candidates for their scam.  I’m trusting, but they overestimated me.

            I am fascinated by how I allowed them to steer me through this process.  I don’t think of myself as easily malleable.  I have a whole new perspective.  When I work with my therapist, I will explore what was specific to this situation versus just part of me.

            When Yvette came up last night, I told her that she should probably keep an eye on me. I seem to be more vulnerable than I suspected. Besides my age, which weakens the mental system, there is the extra stress of being alive in 2020 in the middle of the pandemic.

            I continued with the extensive cleaning of my walk-in shower with its river stone pan.  The vegetable oil solution works like a charm.  I sprayed Pam cooking oil over the plate glass door and the river stone shower pan. It does something to the soap residue.  I supposed it breaks it down.  I wash the oil off with a Dawn dish soap chaser. 

            My latest version of the PowerPoint for the decoding demonstration was on Mike’s Surface Pro, still at the tech store. I worked on the article I have been writing on the method for teaching decoding I developed.  I am getting worn out reading and rereading it. And yet, every time I do, I see a need to change something.

 

____-____-____

Musings:

            Applying small group principles to large groups.

            A talk I heard on TED this morning on Reimagining Capitalism triggered these thoughts.  The speaker was a committed capitalist. She believes in the benefits of the open market, but she also recognizes that capitalism has gotten out of hand.

            I saw the connection between how small groups deal with power-hungry individuals, suppressing them, exiling them, and killing them, and how to deal with power-hungry individuals and organizations in our highly developed society.  I just have no idea how to do it.  I think it is impossible unless we all agree on limits.  Those limits can’t be set in documents. They have to be implicitly understood and agreed upon.  I have no idea how we can arrive at such an agreement.  I know that large industries and powerful countries take up more than their fair share of the resources of this earth.  

            I have a small vision.  I’m not committed to it.  I learned young that my solutions weren’t guaranteed to be successful.  When I was sixteen, I knew that if I could be made dictator of a ‘small’ country, I could force everyone to be cooperative.  The ‘small’ country I had in mind was Mexico.  Believe it or not, when I was in my mid-twenties, I shared this story with a college housemate.  She had the same fantasy. And that’s what they were, fantasies, uniformed fanasties.

            Absolute power corrupts absolutely.  With that in mind, who chooses who should be reined in?  In a small group setting, the answer to that question is evolved slowly, much the way the language is.  No one handed down English to us.  While the French have an organization that monitors changes to the French language and exerts control, we don’t have that in English. There is no one way, determined by some institution, that decides what ‘good’ English is.  American English evolves, changes.  It’s a living thing. There is an agreed-upon base. People can only move so far from the base before it is no longer considered English.  No variations cause harm.  Is there any way we can have something like that with large organizations? 

Sunday, November 8, 2020

            I did my usual morning walk. I have completed 28 days straight of 10,000 steps a day. Pretty good.  I have been working on strengthening my right psoas.  I think my bad postural adaptations dates from before my adolescence.  My psoas muscles are whacko.  Now, I have been emphasizing using my right psoas to push my hips to the left. I also have been working on contracting the upper thigh muscles on my right leg. Since the upper thigh contraction releases the muscles on the back of the upper leg, I now understand why I could never get a good extension with that leg. 

            I called Dorothy. She was rushing over to rescue a neighbor who had locked herself into a bedroom in her own house. For some reason, the lock is on the outside of the door.  Dorothy had a key to the front door, but the screen door was locked.  The plan was to get a Philip’s screwdriver up to her friend to get herself out. I followed up with Dorothy later.  A friend of the woman’s had arrived before Dorothy did, crawled in an open kitchen window, and let her out. Life’s little adventures.

            I started working in my garden yesterday.  Joe, one of the driveway yogis and a gardener, started advising me the other day. He told me what to do with my heliconia.  His words did not translate well into action. I had him demonstrate. Now I knew what to do.

            I spent about half an hour yesterday and today on my knees, cutting down old flowers so new ones can come up. I can’t do more time than that. My body can’t handle it.

            I spent most of the morning writing up my adventures from Thursday and Friday.

            Trump and challenging the election. Can someone tell me how the Republicans held their majority in Congress if there was cheating? It seems clear to me that Republicans had it with him.  

            Elsa got a bath, and my shower got a cleaning. I have river stones in the pan.  Soap stains them white.  I clean it and the glass door with vegetable oil. I use a spray, Pam. Works like a charm. 

            I am watching New Tricks. Mike and I watched the whole series. Dorothy just started watching it and recommended it. It’s fun and relaxing.

Saturday, November 7, 2020

            A forced computer break!  I did some reading. But I prefer writing over reading.  I did some gardening and started a major cleaning of my bathroom.  Scott consulted with me on where to place the water cage, a large plastic container that holds 250 gallons.  I bought it, so we have water if the world shuts down.  I am not an endless optimist. I think we’re heading into a new dark age.  The world will be filled with ’troubles’ to borrow, the Irish term for internecine wars. 

            Late in the afternoon, my Mac was ready for pick up.  I stopped at Costco first.  Picked up my computer and went home. That was the day, along with continued recovery.          

  

Friday, November 6, 2020

   Happy ending!  I gave the scammers no money. But even I'm impressed by how they lead me around—a very interesting experience. They got me to the point I was sitting in the Target parking lot with one leg already out of the car, while he told me to stay in the car until he finished telling me what to do.  I was to get $6,000 in $500 gift cards using Target and Best Buy cards. 

            What?!!! When they see an 80-year-old lady ordering gift cards to the tune of $6,000, someone will call the cops. No, they won't, he says.  Tell them you are buying them for your grandchildren.  

            I don't know what changed my mind. Possibly more to do with the fact that up to this point, if I've bought a dozen gift cards, that's a lot. I haven't put out $6,000 for anything in a store.  I still wasn't convinced there wasn't a real problem. I told him I would pay back the money when the $8,000 deposited- by mistake- to my account cleared.  I pulled my left leg back into my car and headed home.

            On the way, I called Raymond James. They told me for sure it was a scam, go down to the bank and change my account, have them put an alert on my accounts under their watch, and cancel the credit card I had used to pay them for their service. 

            As I drove to the bank, Sheldon, the one assigned the job of reeling me in, called me a dozen times.  I told him I was heading back to the bank to change my account. He texted me to tell me the deposit wasn't' going to show up," It was beneath the ledger." I didn't answer his subsequent calls. He stopped calling.

            Back story:  This scam was initiated at 8:30 this morning when Alex called to tell me their server had collapsed, and they wanted to refund my money. He connected me to someone else.  This guy wasn't on his game. He got angry at me because I didn't have online banking or a pin number. He snapped at me, telling me how selfish I was. He could live on $700 for a year. (A homeless person can't live on $700 for a year in the US.) That prompted me to call Raymond James to say that I was thinking of just dropping my claim and telling the men to split the money. I felt sorry for the guys. But in the meantime, one of my Raymond James angels found another charge from Microcon on my account. This upped the amount owed to $1614.  

            I called Alex, who I now understand was my primary handler, to tell him I planned to let them keep the money and give him instructions to split with other guys he worked with.  He immediately transferred me to Sheldon, his supervisor.  (He heard what I had to say. I wonder how it made him feel.)  Until I hung up in the Target parking lot, I was on the phone with Sheldon the whole time. 

            He directed me to go to the bank and open online banking.  The whole time Sheldon was on the phone with me. After the bank, I drove back home. He had me sit at my computer and open the online banking account. He told me to enter the amount. For some reason I couldn't fathom, he told me the 'first' payment could only be $800.  I type in $800. Oops! Oh, no. It registered as $8,000. No, problem. Sheldon forgave me for my mistake. He says all humans make errors. He told me how to fix it.  He told me to get dressed and go to Target. Huh? Did he think I went to the bank naked?  All these tells. All ignored. Of course, I was upset about the mistake. 

            Sheldon told me to leave my computer on while I was gone.  Ah, another story.  My main computer, my MacBook Air, was not in the house because one of their workers had told me to take it to a local tech shop to get an update.  It needed an operating system update.  The tech told me that he couldn't do it for me. If he did, I might lose files, etc.  Best to take it to a tech who could do it for me and preserve my files.  The computer I was working on was Mike's Surface Pro tablet.  (I wonder now if there are honest workers who knew I was scheduled for a hit and made sure I got it out of the house.)

            When I got back to the house, the screen was different, just a blue screen with a rectangle of some sort with numbers.  I called the tech store in town, told them my situation. They said to bring it in immediately.  I did. 

            The tech took one look, clicked an icon, and brought my desktop icons up. There was my regular screen. He said they were harvesting passwords. They got a bunch- all Mike's. The only password I had on the tablet was for the NY Times Crossword Puzzle.  At least I got a new list of passwords that Mike had used. Maybe this whole ruse was his way of getting his passwords to me.  I have complained a-plenty that he didn't make giving me his passwords on his deathbed a priority. Not.  I have made a file with my passwords as a result. Yvette, Damon, and August have the password for my computer and the name of the file.  It is on my Mac, which was in the shop. These guys had no access to it.

            After my close escape, I was in shock. I needed some comfort.  I called Dorothy, Judy, and Yvette. No answer from any of them. I called Jean, my Arizona friend.  First, she gave me advice. I yelled; I needed comfort, not information about what to do.  She did her job and did it well.

            I got to hear scam stories from others. Damon called a wrong number for airplane tickets when he had to get from NYC to LA quickly. Darby told me how her husband got a $6,000 check for services for a wedding, and he was supposed to send the money to others who were providing other services.  When they suspected something and refused to do it, the guy threatened to call the cops on them. I'm sure I will hear more.

            Damon, my stepson, had the phone on speaker as I told my story.   August, his son, told me all the details of the scam.  He said I was involved in a 'long scam.' He said that companies like theirs pay Google to be the first on the list of sites.  He told me every aspect of the scam, including the black screen, before the online banking site came up. 

            I signed up with these tech services about two and a half years ago while sitting in Mike's hospital room during his first visit.  He wasn't on dialysis yet; they had just diagnosed serious kidney problems and knew he would be on dialysis shortly.  They wanted to figure out why he had kidney disease. They were concerned his kidney problems were caused by something pernicious.  No, high blood pressure was the cause.

            While sitting there in his hospital room, working on my book, my Microsoft word shut down.  I searched for Microsoft customer service and got these guys. It didn't sound quite right to me from the beginning. They assured me they were contracted by Microsoft. The combination of desperation and ignorance worked like a charm.

            My sleep was somewhat troubled after my day's adventure, given how close I got to being taken. How did I get myself into this situation?  Damon used to say my name should be gullible.  But there was something else.  I made a life commitment to assume people mean well.  I preferred living that way and was prepared to take some losses along the way. 

            When I was living in Brooklyn, my mom and I got on a bus when we discovered that neither of us had the necessary change. A youngster on the street said he would get the change for me.  I handed him five dollars; he ran to the corner candy store. He came back with the change. (As I'm typing this now, I realize I should have given him some money. I don't think I did.) My mother was furious with me.  I told her I would rather live trusting and be disappointed than live in a constant state of distrust. But that night, after escaping the scam, I was shaken. I applied the principles of Buddhist psychology, which teaches all suffering comes from craving and aversion.  I assume that all situations evoke both responses. 

            First, I released anything negative about my negative feelings about the situation. The words are "Release anything negative I hated about my experience with the scammers and keep anything positive or anything I still need." The first release didn't do much for me. The second release did. I released anything I loved about my involvement and kept anything positive or anything I still needed. That brought immediate calm.

            What came up was grief, grief for the lost relationship with Alex, my handler. OMG!  He wasn't particularly nice to me; he never asked how I was or showed any personal interest in me.  What I realized was there was an intimacy there, the intimacy between the predator and the prey.  I asked people I know who hunt if they experienced that intimacy with the animals they hunt. Yes.  The scammers spent two years cultivating me. I felt and still feel sad about the loss of the relationship. I also felt sad that they lost their prey, me, after all their hard work. 

            I was surprised by my feelings, as many of you who read this might be. Trust me, I will not re-engage with these men. I doubt I could even if I wanted to. They have shut down all connections, all telephone numbers, all site addresses.  If I could get to them, I could send the authorities after them.

            Alex may have made an error.  He called by a number that came up as being from Equatorial Guinea. He also sent me a text with his (or a name) and an email address. I will call Best Buy headquarters to see if they want to follow up.  Why Best Buy?  The website they showed me said they were from the Geek Squad.  Were there signals that this was bogus? Oh, yes. Did I see those signals?  On, yes. Why didn't I respond immediately? I don't know.  Maybe the intimacy bit.  It was seductive. Maybe laziness. Perhaps my ignorance of an alternative. I don't think of myself as an easy mark.  I did assume they had done something wrong and were all going to jail. I wasn't totally blind but followed this lead anyway.  I am without intimacy now. I miss it.  Of course, my intimacy with Mike was based on love, not just desire for something he didn't want to give me, or I didn't want to give him.

            August warned me that I would get follow-up calls.   I haven't yet.  I don't think I will. These guys were pros. They know when they have lost their catch.             

Thursday, November 5, 2020

            Two interesting events: I tried to contact Sears about my 5-year Master’s protection program, and then my online tech company called to tell me they had a problem and had to refund my money.

            I had all my home appliances checked this year. There was a problem with the six-burner stovetop. When I turned on one of the back burners, all three ignitors click away non-stop. I had servicemen come two times with no joy. I had a third appointment. Someone called to ask if a part had been delivered. No. Since it had been a month since it was ordered, it was time to replace the stovetop. She said I would receive a call within 72 hours. That call never came. It was a few weeks later when I decided to track this order down. 

            I had no luck. Some people  I spoke to could find my information, some could not. There is a possibility the protection plan expired. If so, why didn’t anyone tell me?  Too much for today. I’ll start up again tomorrow.

            I received a phone call from my online tech company. Their server crashed, and they had to reimburse my charges. The man I usually dealt with, Alex, said he would connect me with the accounting department.  No, they could not refund it to my credit card. No, they could not just write a check. They could do it through my online banking account. No, I did not have an online banking account. Well, let’s signup. Okay. I needed a pin. No, I didn’t have a pin. What about my debit card? No, I don’t use a debit card. How do I use an ATM machine? I have never used one.  He had a meltdown. He accused me of being selfish.  I wasn’t denying him anything at this point, just unable to do it his way. 

            He told me to call my bank and get a pin number. I called Hawaiian First Bank. There were 61 people ahead of me.       He told me to stay on the line. I told him that I would do my vacuuming while I waited. He told me to be sure I could hear him when he came back online. I told him I was wearing an earbud. He said, “Well, you’re not completely stupid.” Interesting.  He also accused me of being selfish. Interesting. Maybe that’s how these folks justify what they do. They make people like me into bad people. I can see their point of view. I am fully aware I have been fortunate with the material circumstances of my life, food, water, shelter, and health care. My life circumstances have been the best that any human being has ever, ever had.   I am grateful.  I also am aware that my circumstances have mainly been a matter of good luck, at least 75% luck, if not more.

            He was so frustrated with my ‘lack of cooperation’ (if only), he told me he could just keep my money and lock my computer.  He also said that he could live on $700 for a year.  That made it clear he was not working in the USA.  A homeless person can’t make it on $700 a year here.

            Since there was no way to get a pin number in a timely way, I told him I would arrange the transfer of money from him to me through my financial advisor at Raymond James.  He would call me back at 9;30 am Friday morning, and we would do a conference call.  

            I called Raymond James in New Jersey to tell everyone what was going down.  Jeff said immediately it sounds like a scam.  I told him I had been working with these people for over two years. While I was always somewhat uncomfortable; there were cultural differences.  I made allowances.  

            The real problem I didn’t know where to go to get the tech support I needed. I must have called Damon and asked.  He told me the company he worked for took care of his computer needs. Ignorance had me penned in.

            Read what happened on Friday, the next day.  It has a happy ending- at least for me.

_____-_____-______

Musings:

 

On Trump as our leader:

            For me, the first concern is about preserving the democracy.  It’s a little bit like making preserving a marriage the top priority versus individuals getting it all their way.  It’s always a balancing act for me.  That’s what makes a good marriage: the unit is strong, and the individuals within the unit are reasonably satisfied.  When Mike went off to Catholic University to get his second Ph.D. I told him to do everything for God, for himself, for me, and for our marriage.  All four entities had to be taken into consideration for this arrangement to work. If he felt he was ‘taking away’ from the marriage when he pursued his studies, we would be lost.  We would have been lost if I had felt that way too.  How do we achieve that balance politically? How do we get to be a group of healthy individuals who also see themselves as part of a larger group and don’t see that membership in conflict with their individuality?

            I think some of the claims on the right are valid.  I’m hearing how each president assumed more and more power, both Republicans and Democrats. I have to admit being guilty of being happy when policies I favored got pushed through. 

            It’s hard on both sides. Some policies involve moral choices: abortion versus pro-life, welcoming immigrants to come into our country desperate to escape circumstances in their own countries vs. inclusion, economic or political versus preserving our culture and protecting the livelihoods of people who already live here, giving preferential treatment to those who have been denied equal opportunity versus those whose circumstances were not advantageous who are not members of that group, and expecting people to improve their own lives or live in their own filth versus helping those that cannot help themselves. 

            I can see the underlying value of all points of view. However, I also believe the Republicans and the far-right want a return to a lifestyle that is simply not possible without killing off ‘the other.’  That longed-for lifestyle is dependent on group size.  When a group reaches over 150, the political life we were designed for starts slipping away. 

Once the group size was too large for us to know each person in the group, we had to develop different criteria for trusting people.  Religion came in.  If someone is the same religion as I am, I can trust them; if not, I can’t.  Good luck! 

            I heard on Hidden Brain the other day how small groups controlled the behavior if their members.  If there was someone who had a special gift and started distributing benefits to select people, so they aligned themselves with him so he gained power (it was probably a him); the rest of the tribe took action.  He was reprimanded, exiled, or, simply, killed. 

            Each one has their point.  People in both groups have needs. The problem comes in when someone losses perspective.  I knew a woman, now deceased, who complained about how much taxes she had to pay. “I worked hard for the 4 million I earned this year”  Her annual salary was a mere 1 million a year; the rest was profit sharing.  She was a devoted Catholic and Republican. People like her come from all religions and all political parties.   But I am sure there are Democrats out there who have a questionable attitude.  So hard to evaluate people’s real needs and get them to accept what their real needs are.  How hard does one have to work to make their effort worth 4 million in a year? 

            I want to hear what other people really want.  Then there is a story like above when someone feels ‘they earned’ a salary that would support a small developing country. 

I don’t have a solution. I want to be open-minded, but the above story sticks in my craw.

Wednesday, November 4, 2020

            I finished watching the PBS mini-series Flesh and Blood.  I think it was well constructed and well done, but not what I needed at this time.  Despite going to bed later than usual, I was up by 5 am.   I didn't complete 6,000 steps before breakfast because my left leg was in a pinchy mood. I meditated when I came inside.

            I have another appointment with my therapist. I've been doing it every week for now. I feel I have to get myself in the best shape I can to deal with whatever is coming up.  I assume it is going to be challenging. As my niece said, "Whatever the outcome, half the country will be unhappy about it." I figure if little old Jewish ladies, my high school classmates, could have declared there would be a civil war if Trump didn't win in 2016, how can it not be so?  These ladies aren't gun-toting white supremacists; they're not some fringe group.  These ladies are already mainstream.  Oy vay!  I anticipate a shit storm.  I also think I am lucky to live in Hawaii on the Big Island rather than on Oahu.

            I have been focusing on facing difficult times with my therapist, materially and socially, with a loving, accepting heart.  Felling hate would be the worst.  And, of course, that's what I got to work on.  A peace came over me, but that peace was contingent on the complete rejection of all other people. I got in touch with the presence of hate. There's some 'hate' in me for everyone.  Something about everyone annoys me.  

            Since we all have a capacity for hate. Because it has survived in our species for all these millennia, it must have a positive function.  What is it? (See musings for my speculations.) Like fear, hate has a survival function. Like anything that makes us uncomfortable about ourselves, we push it away.  Who wants to acknowledge their capacity for hatred? I suppose some people are comfortable with it. They hate – the other team, the residents of the other country, the other race, the racists, the other religion.  To do that, they have to demonize those people – all of them. "Ah, what a relief- a valid outlet for hate." 

            But if you don't have an excuse for hate, you have to face it in yourself, no excuses.  What then?  I always come back to Buddha's brilliant idea: the problem is with our craving and aversion in response to those feelings.  I crave being a loving person; I have an aversion to being a hateful one. Feeling love feels great; feeling hate feels lousy.  I am invested in being a loving person. Hatred undermines my self-image. What then?  

            If I accept and observe those feelings of hatred in myself, I don't have to make a big deal about them.  They inform me of something. That's uncomfortable.  Our edges rub against each other uncomfortably. Is that their fault or mine? Is it a fault?

            D. was at his grandmother's, so no session today. We may try for tomorrow. I spent most of the day on the phone trying to track down Sears Service. 

            I drove to the Post office to mail one more box of books, stopped at the bank to get more cash in the forms of fives and tens. Yay, I'm preparing for the worst. If the economy collapses, it will be either inflation or depression.  If it's depression, I want small bills. Inflation, forget about it.  My mother described the experience with inflation in Germany.

            She said people got paid twice a day and immediately ran out to the store to purchase food before the prices were raised again.  People showed up with wheelbarrows full of money to buy groceries.  My father described buying a tie for 10,000 marks. A mark was about the equivalent of a US dollar in German currency. 

            Then I headed over to the Big Island Dive Shop.  I bought a weighted belt from them several months ago. No, I am not going deep-sea diving. My problem is that when I do regular swimming, my rear end floats up, forcing my head into the water.

             I met with M.  After last week's session, I felt more inclined to push her as she answered questions. She's overly attached to details and answering in complete sentences. However, it didn't take much to push her to answer questions with a few words- and then formulate a complete sentence.  She probably can't do it on her own yet, but I don't anticipate it will take much to get her there. I have to wonder how she got herself in this hole. Was it something she created for herself, overdoing some teacher's good advice, or was this a response to parental pressure to always be right?  I see her reaction as fear-based.  I don't see any intellectual deficit.

            When I was through with her, I headed back to town. I needed to take my car back to Kia. When I got home from my morning chores and turned off the car, the fan kept running. I tried turning the car off and back on again, but nothing had any effect. I had called Kia, and they said to bring it in.  I had to disconnect the charger. The moment I did, the fan went quiet.  I called Kia to ask if they understood what had happened. They said no; bring it in. 

            I had some chores to do before I went there. I stopped off at the Vet to pick up Elsa's pills and then stopped off at the Diving Shop to pick up the weight belt.  Then I headed over to Kia. I got there at 3:30 pm.  The intake desk was shut down already.  I was told that the technicians had gone home around 3 pm. I was too late.  This guy is testy. He is easily annoyed. I'd hate to be married to him.

_____-_____-_____

Musings:

            I worked on hatred with my therapist today.  I felt peaceful, enclosed in a cocoon of hate – for all humanity, no selectivity involved. 

            Hatred has a bad name; love had a good one. But we have all seen or heard stories of terrible actions done in the name of love, even to the object of that love.  Very sneaky.  We are a tricky species.

            If love can be harmful, hate must have an upside.  Observing myself, I see it this way. Something irritates me; something unpleasant arises in my gut, like acid reflux.  I am aware it's unpleasant. I am angry at the person, the object that caused that anger. Not a nice feeling. 

            Let's say that feeling announces, "Not me!" It helps me know who I am. It helps me identify my boundaries.  Maybe this is what we feel whenever we learn something new. Sometimes we interpret that feeling as something positive, sometimes as something negative. Sometimes the new thing is to be embraced, sometimes rejected. Sometimes we have both feeling at once. Either way, the 'I' in this picture is threatened with having to change if it says 'yes' to the other, be that other new food, a new piece of information, especially if it contradicts a piece of information we already have. 

            An infant comes into the world with a sense of self only developed to the point where it 'knows' it is not the bed of rocks it has had to lie on, Mom's spine.  Maybe also, it's not the confines of the womb which won't allow it to stretch out fully.  The birth and the massive job of identifying all the things it, the baby, is not.  Not the bed it is lying on. Not the breast it is sucking on. Not the arms it is lying in comfortably.  So much work to distinguish self from the world beyond its own skin. So much annoyance. Often so much rage and hatred. 

            The problem for adults may be more significant now in our times. Our primary identity these days is as individuals, not as members of a unified group. My 'group' is at least all of humanity, if not everything living thing, if not the inanimate objects of mother earth. The more extensive and more diverse the group, the more specific my individuality has to be.  It may be too much for us. We weren't designed for this. 

            I don't know about eastern religions, but I think Jesus aimed for something greater than limited tribal identification. However, Christianity's doing so may be an accident. All religions teach moral behavior. Christianity is the only Abrahamic one that teaches ethical behavior to those not of our tribe.

            The good Samaritan story indicted the Jews who passed by a member of their own tribe without offering aid.  It may not have been intended to say, "See, members of all tribes have good people in it." And Paul's outreach to the gentiles, moving beyond the limits of his own tribe, may also be an accident.  The Jews weren't interested in his version of the Messiah.  They had something different in mind.  Paul had to reach out beyond the limits of his original intended audience.  I suppose you could say that God had a hand in all this, trying to tell us we had to reach out beyond our own small worlds. 

            I have good moments when I do a sterling job empathizing with the 'others.' I have also failed miserably.

Tuesday, November 3, 2020

           I did a short walk this morning, only 4,000 steps instead of my usual 6,000. I want to back up the data on my MAC. I was planning to take it into the computer store today to have a new operating system installed. Besides doing the backup, I emailed the documents I would need for the next few days to myself to work with them on the tablet.

           Deb was back for our driveway yoga.  She asked me if she could give me an agave plant. She knew the 27th was Mike's birthday and thought this plant would be perfect with its entwining roots.  I said I would love it.  After class, I asked her if this was something I could plant on his grave. She said no. It grew huge and spread.  It would take over the cemetery.  Too bad.  She suggested roses. She said anything grows here.  It will require no maintenance.

           During the class, I experienced a dramatic shift. It wasn't just in my body; it was in my mental state as well.  I had no idea what it was about in my body or my mind.  It just was.

           Deb said thank you to Yvette for paying individual attention to each one of us.  I said thank you for creating a safe place where I could follow my own needs. Yvette said," Thank YOU!" I understood exactly what she meant. That's what I want from my students.  I tell the kids, "I'm not nice; I'm smart." I know I can be more effective if they take care of themselves as I work with them. I have to know what their needs are. How lucky am I to have had teachers like that here at Bikram and now Yvette?

           I had plans to drop off my car at the Kia dealership for a six-month checkup. My first stop was at 808 Computer, a computer service store in town.  One of the guys there spent a good fifteen minutes with me downloading a file from my email to my tablet that I had sent myself so I could work on them while my Mac was in the shop.

           While I was there, I asked if I could use the bathroom. It was shut down to customers because of the virus. When I got to the Kia service center, they had the same answer. 

My nearest bathroom was in my home. I wanted to walk around town doing chores while the car was being serviced. So much for my plans.  I had the guy at the desk drive me home.  Just as well.  I had considered canceling my in-town chores anyway.  I felt that it would be best to take a good long nap after that shift during the yoga class this morning.  

           As I lay there on the couch, I heard a man's voice calling me.  Scott? B?? No, it was the men from the Kia dealership. They were dropping off my car. Wow! How's that for great service.           

           I did some work in the library, alphabetizing a bay of books. This will make finding all the books I still haven't checked off from the request list will make it easier.

           I spent too much time doing the NY Times Mimi Crossword Puzzles.  I have never been attracted to this game. It was always too frustrating for me.  But doing it online, I can get immediate feedback if I have done something wrong.  I don't go wandering down the garden path, wondering if I did something wrong. The Minis are just my speed.

           I finally stopped myself from playing another game and wrote this entry.  I noticed the other night that I have zero readers for my blog.  I can't say I blame anyone.  I don't know if I would want to read all the details of someone's life. I continue writing it primarily for my sake.  I think there are nuggets in there that might be interesting to someone else.  It will have to be someone interested in details as well as nuggets. My first thought was I wouldn't be interested in reading all this about someone else's life. I then reread last year's blog entries nightly, and I never find them boring.  I don't know if that's because they are about my life, I like how I write, or I'm a detail junkie.  Whatever, I do love writing them.

           Rodney, my gardener, called to ask if he could get some mangos from my property.  While B. is a renter, he is the one who fertilizes them. I called B. to find out if he was okay with Rodney getting some.  He said there were none left.  Since we had a great rainy season earlier this year, I attribute our low output to the tree guy who did so much damage to my trees and charged me a fortune to do it.

           I got a phone call from a woman who saw my ad for tutoring on Craig's list. She has a nine-year-old grandson who has just moved to the island from California with his dad. He is diagnosed as on the autism spectrum with an IQ of 60.  He is in fourth grade and reads on a first-grade level. The grandmother told me the other day he told her that sharks don't bite people with a particular blood type.  I had heard the same thing recently. Who knows where he heard it. Regardless, this child does not have an IQ of 60. The grandmother wants someone who will work with him in person. I won't do that for two reasons. A #1, the virus.  Second, I live about an hour and a half away.  I suspect this child would respond to my methods of working, even on Zoom. I believe he doesn't look like he's paying attention during his online classes, but that is probably where he picked up the information about the sharks. He is paying attention. It's just that his eyes aren't glued to that screen. He needs to do something to comfort himself as he's listening.  

           On the one hand, I would love to work with him. He presents an exciting challenge.  I have to figure out ways to adapt my teaching to his needs. On the other hand, in my experience, relationships with children like that can go on forever.  It's a slow haul and never over. It will be what it will be. If grandma decides she wants to give it a try, I'm in. If not, it's out of my hands anyway.

______-______-_____

Musings:

 

    My objection to Trump is the man.  I think he sows discontent and incites violence. He compared his leadership style to that of Churchill during WWII. No, no, no. Churchill did not say the Germans were a bunch of wimps and not to worry. He made it clear that the English were up against a formidable foe, and there would be 'blood, sweat, and tears.' He encouraged the English to fight on despite the odds.

      Had Trump done something comparable, he would have declared the virus a formidable threat. He would have encouraged everyone to take precautions as per Dr. Fauci's recommendations. He would have honored Dr. Fauci's point of view, and then he would have said what it was he was trying to say," You will have to take risks, possibly sacrifice your life, so the economy doesn't collapse. If it does, we have nothing to leave the next generation. Be brave. Do the best you can for yourself and your country." Now that's a rallying cry. It's not the one he issued.

     I suspect he didn't because of his reported remark at a military gravesite that he didn't understand why someone would sacrifice themselves to fight in the military. This represents this poor man's point of view. I say poor man because he belongs nowhere. He is attached to nothing except his own victories over others.  The idea of joyfully having a cause to die for is simply beyond his mental and or emotional grasp. For that reason alone, I don't want this man as a leader of this country. Something is wrong with him.

Monday, November 2, 2020

            I slept well.  It comes and goes. When it goes, my recovery time is shorter and shorter. My leg was good again this morning once I got up. There was some discomfort in my leg in the early morning hours. I have learned to run that tennis ball under my back muscles when my leg bothers me.   The muscles on the side of my abdomen bothered me this morning. Treating them brought relief to my leg. 

            Dorothy was busy while I was waking. She was out doing a major shopping. She called once I was home.  While we talked, I went out to trim the vine off the fence I shared with my neighbor.  While I was out there, I did some shrub trimming.   I have to remember asking Joe, one of the yoga participants, where to cut to trim back the heliconia.   

            Yay! I did more work on the PowerPoint for the presentation on my reading method.   I put it off and put it off; then, I'm just fine when working on it. 

______-_______-_______

Musings:

            I was looking up sexual practices in primitive groups.  As I thought, most primitive groups do not require monogamy or fidelity.  Only 16% of cultures studied make an issue over monogamy. It only became a practice once agriculture was developed. It was at that point inheritance became an issue.  Before then, children we primarily members of the tribe.  The purpose of procreation was to sustain the tribe. I didn't make any difference who the genetic father was. Children belonged to everyone anyway. There wasn't a lot of variation in parenting styles relative to what we have today because the parents were constantly monitored by the rest of the tribe.  There were rules about how parents should treat children. It would be hard to deviate and get away with it, much as it would have been hard to steal and get away with it. If someone had something special, everyone in the tribe would know who it belonged to.  If it disappeared and then reappeared in someone else's hands, well . . . . 

Sunday, November 1, 2020

             Today my mother would have been 117. I miss her.

            I listened to a TED talk as I walked, "How your emotions change the shape of your heart." I suspect that's why I felt so lousy yesterday. That's what that feeling, like the inside of an ashtray, is about.  

            People expected me to feel this way about Mike's death, not some tree guys lousy treatment of my fruit trees. Everything with Mike was based on love and caring, mine for him and his for me, and the doctors' best efforts. I'm fine as long as I know there is caring in the air.  When faced with cold indifference or contempt, I collapse.  

            Dorothy thought it had to do with being sensitive to what people think of me. No, no, no.  I have the same reaction when I see behavior like that in a movie.  I am terrified by the human capacity for indifference.  I have known for a long time that my response is not only extreme but dysfunctional as well.  It serves no purpose. I have always suspected PTSD caused by my family's experience in Nazi Germany and my mother's behavior, driven by her PTSD.  

     The other day it occurred to me that there may be another source.  I was born in 1940.  For my first birthday, the Japanese blew up Pearl Harbor. When the US entered the war, their enemy was not just Japan but Germany as well.  Some people attacked Germans living in the US. My parents read about German-speaking babies being attacked in their carriages.  This scared them badly enough to stop speaking German to me.  My mom was paranoid as it was. I can't begin to imagine how she must have felt going out with me, concerned that she would have to protect herself and me from some crazed anti-German. My background has made me super sensitive to people's intolerance of differences, particularly cultural ones.

            I had a piece of Tilapia last night from a bag of fillets from Costco. I had one before that was terrible. I had poached it. I tried broiling the fillet with butter, seasoned with parsley and dill. OMG! What a difference! Now I'm going to dream of having it for dinner again.

            I'm sure one of the things Mike worried about as he lay dying was how I would feed myself.  I have always hated cooking. He was the one and only cook for the last 45 years, even during one period when all he served was rice, broccoli, and broiled chicken – every night. I actually complained. Surprise! I'm doing just fine. I don't eat the same thing every night. I always have either a large serving of salad or a large serving of some vegetables.  – and of course, Hersey's Milk Chocolate with almonds in some form.  

            I watched the end of The Queen's Gambit last night. It's simplistic in its theme, but I enjoyed watching it. Given that much of the film is watching people stare at a chessboard, make a move, and then go back to staring at that same chessboard, you have to wonder why it's interesting.  But it is. It's absolutely fascinating.  I know nothing, absolutely nothing, about chess. I didn't enjoy it because I could follow what was going on. What made it enjoyable was just watching people stare, move and go back to staring. What a pleasant relief!

 

______-_____-______

Musings:

            In listening to talks on marriage and adultery, they speak about people's need for novelty.  I find so much novelty within the small space of my life that's about as much as I can handle.  

            In T.S. Elliot's The Cocktail party, he comments (as I remember it), "Always greet your loved ones as strangers every day." We can't even know ourselves perfectly.  Those who think they do know everything about themselves are in denial.  I keep working with my therapist because I learn something new about myself in every session. 

            If I am a source of endless novelty for myself, how can I know someone else perfectly?  It may be that someone won't allow you to get to know them.  I can imagine that some people consider it invasive for someone to view them as an endlessly changing canvas.  They like their static self-image.  It would get old fast for me.

            I think we are somewhat different people with each person we have contact with.  I remember a commune-mate of mine commented that I was the same with each person I talked to. Weird because I felt like a completely different person with each person I spoke to.  Yes, there was a core me.  For me, it's like being a color.  Blue stays blue regardless of the other colors around it, but it is also completely different because of the surrounding colors.  I guess it's a paradox. If anything, the more I know myself and deepen my knowledge of my own 'color,' the more I can adapt to my surroundings.  In other words, the more I can grow and become a bigger person.