Monday, July 15, 2019 (Today is my father's 116th birthday.)

    While driving to Bikram today, I pressed my left pinky toe into the floor of the car.  A whole new world.  I have been working on stretching the area between the knuckle of my left little toe and the heel's start — that caused significant cramping in my left calf muscle.  I would push the foot stretch until the cramp started, wait for a second, and then release the cramp.  I have learned that over time, with repeated stretching, the pain goes away.  Now, when I stretch the side of the foot, there is minimal cramping. I'm on to the next challenge, pushing that little toe into the ground to activate the lower leg muscles.  As I applied that principle in Bikram today, it made a huge difference, a whole new set of muscles were activated.  I am working on the belief that misalignment caused misuse of the body, which caused muscles to atrophy and connective tissue to dehydrate and become hard.  As I have aged, muscles have weakened in general, and the compensations I had in place became ineffective.  Now, I have to wake up the body I was born with.  Looks good. We'll see. I'm on a journey which I find interesting.  The end of the road may still be a THR.
    The other day Heather spoke about pressing the thumb against the index finger in postures requiring a handgrip.  This exercise strengthens the thumb muscle and prevents the pain associated with arthritis.  I remembered trying to climb a rock wall in Princeton when there was an event in the Princeton Shopping Center. My 14-year old nephew clambered up that wall with ease.  He might as well have been crawling on the ground.  Me, not so much.  I was amazed by how much strain I felt.  I must have been in my 60s, but I still was under the impression that my body would not fail me despite age and lack of use. I'm thinking that a good way to get some arm strengthen back is merely pressing the fingertips against something with some real pressure.  This may serve as an upper arm exercise for others who not inclined to work with weights, like me.
    As Mike requested in the Will, I made arrangements with my financial advisor and Damon to set up a trust account in August's name.  Mike stated that he wanted to proceeds from his life insurance to go to August. However, he never changed the name of the beneficiary.  That remained in my name.  So, when Mike died, I cashed out the life insurance to pay off the mortgage on this house.  The less debt I carry, the more I like it.  Mike was the other way around. Sometimes I had to show some muscle to get my way.  I did when I thought it was necessary.
    I discovered that Mike wanted the Life Insurance money to go to August when I read over the Will some time in June. "Yikes!  Look at this." I could have left it until I died.  If I hadn't read the Will, he could have waited until I was dead.  Methinks, that all he could do with that money was then pay for his child's application fee to college. I'm glad I did catch it because there is no way I am not honoring Mike's intent.  No way.  It gives me joy to do what he wanted. It keeps me connected.  God, I loved that man.
    I called Damon immediately to tell him what I had found. Then I called my financial advisor at Raymond James to start figuring out how to get that sum of money due August, which was no longer available through the life insurance, into a custodial account.   Damon spoke to Rick at Raymond James,  and then Damon also talked to his tax accountant to see what the penalties would be.
    Once we were all clear with the tax accountant and ready to open an account for August,  I asked Rick how much  I had in my cash account.  The sum is not equal to the Life Insurance Policy; it isn't even close.  I proposed moving 5/8th of that money over to August now and then slowly selling stock to cover the rest of the amount due, so I'm not kicked in the balls by a huge tax bite on capital gains.
    My financial advisor told me that I would not maximize the financial benefit for August. I told him we had to find a way to do the best for both of us.  He also asked me about making some changes to my investments. I told him to call Damon.  I don't like to talk about money. Bonds, stocks, money markets.  I know those terms, and that's too much already.  My financial advisor said that he didn't think it wouldn't be appropriate for Damon to be in that position.  I said there was no choice.  I also told him he could share everything with Damon. He had told me about what would to his advantage in setting up the trust account. I think Rick was concerned that Damon would misuse his authority to my disadvantage.
     I called Damon and told him my proposal.  His only concern was that I was depleting too much from my account.  Boy, that made my heart swell.  I called Raymond James right back and told them what he said.  The broker said this is not usually the case.  For the most part, money brings out the absolute worst in people even when there is plenty to go around and more than is needed to live comfortably.  The advisor said that our story is like a breath of fresh air.  She said Damon must feel very lucky; I told him I don't think he knew the difference. This is how he had been raised.
    I called Damon back to tell him what the broker said.  Damon said that Dad had set the example; it was a pretty high bar.   Actually, it is me who set this bar from the beginning.  It is me who initiated that Damon's mother be included in all family events. As for money, Mike believed that money was always better in his pocket than anyone else's. Was he a poster child for greed? Far from it, but the moral principle of always negotiating for a win/win situation is something I brought into the marriage.  Mike had a strong ethical basis in the larger world, and he didn't fight the values that I brought to the marriage. He adopted them and then when he became a Catholic and then a Deacon, embraced them entirely as his own.  I couldn't live with someone who wasn't willing to negotiate, so everyone gets the best they can out of the situation.  I have family members who have no idea how to negotiate and see all such activities as manipulations to undermine them. So sad.
    In the past, I have said that my two most significant accomplishments in life are my marriage and my relationship with my mother.  She was a difficult woman who lived with Mike and me for the last 18 years of her life. While she expressed appreciation for the situation we provided to others, she never thanked either one of us.  Nonetheless, without actually verbally negotiating, my mom and I did arrange a way to get along with each other.   I had the opportunity to be a good daughter.  I feel I can add the unified family to my list as another accomplishment. This does not mean that it's all my doing.  It is impossible to accomplish interpersonal harmony on the initiative of only one person.  I was damn lucky.
    Also It  doesn’t mean that all is hunky dory in the family these days. There was a crisis and I’m not even speaking to one member of the extended family.  When Mike was sick in the hospital, I think we both held out hope that things could improve between us.  She did something and for me it made things worse if anything.
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Musings:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.
   In yesterday's homily in church, the priest talked about surrendering to our true nature, which is love. Ah, That is undoubtedly a big one.
     One of the things that attracted me to Catholicism is the recognition that our true nature is an equal capacity for good or evil, and it's up to us which way we go.     I was happy to accept that Jesus was the only son of God, in my way, because the story is He is was born without sin; Therefore, I was not, and trying to be that way is pointless. Ah!  My mother, both for philosophical and neurotic reasons, devoted a lot of her parental time convincing us that we were failed human beings.  She regularly accused me of being selfish, inconsiderate, disrespectful, etc.  I really tried to be good.  Being good was a goal, but I always fell short. What was wrong with me? This resulted in a serious dislike of my failed self.  How to escape it?  When I was young, people who knew me can tell you I spent a lot of my time running, literally.  I was a whirly gig of anxiety.  But, sadly, there was no way to outrun it.  There never is.
Besides my mother's constant reminders of my imperfections, I did a thought experiment when I was sixteen, shortly after my father died.  I tried to do a truly unselfish act.  Our next-door neighbor lawn, a widow in her late middle age, was covered with fall leaves.  I would go out and rake them up.  Well, that wouldn't be utterly unselfish because she would thank me. I would feel like a million bucks for the recognition of my goodness — Nix that.  Then I thought I would do it secretly when she was out.  That way, I would avoid her praise.  Hmm!  She might be disconcerted by someone coming along and clearing her lawn anonymously.  Well, that wouldn't be kind. I also thought I would know I had done something good.  I couldn't think of any way to avoid a selfish feeling.  This was not comforting knowledge.  I am one of the few people I know who believe there is always a selfish motivation no matter what the act, even sacrificing one's life.
    We can never judge ourselves as unselfish.  That is something others can evaluate.  Has my action given or healed someone else?  Has my action taken something away from or hurt someone else?
    Which brings up another aspect of the human condition:  Taking from or hurting others is just part of the human condition. It's inescapable. But it is another matter if we set out to hurt people for the pleasure of doing it or not considering others' needs.  The best we can do is commit to doing what is best for ourselves and the other(s) in each moment. Does this guarantee that we won't hurt someone?  Sorry.

Sunday, July 14, 2019

    I went to church today instead of Bikram.  This was the first day Judy went for a long, long time.  She was still feeling bad from the chemo, which has stopped now, but was determined to go.  It was good to have her back in church. It was plain good to see her.  Our minds function in similar ways, and I love talking with her. The rest of the day was a little bit of this or that and a big nap. A telephone healing client called at 3:30 instead of four. That was perfect for me because Kathrin and I were going to a Krishna feast at Bernice and Manuel's house again, and I had to walk the dog before we left.

    We picked up our contribution of a gallon of unfiltered apple juice to which our hosts added fresh-squeezed ginger—an excellent combination.  The music, the meal, the meditation, the company were all excellent as they were before.   I even enjoy Manuel's lectures on the Bagdagavita.  The only problem was that the evening went on for too long.  We finally broke up at 9:45 pm.

    As part of the lecture, he spoke about what a mistake suicide was.  Except for some Japanese religions, I think most religions are opposed to suicide.  I asked if someone asked to be taken off life support was that suicide.  He said yes. According to him, Mike committed suicide, and I committed murder by making his death possible.  His comments didn't particularly bother me. I'm content that letting Mike go was one of the most loving things I have ever done.  I also suspect he doesn't know his religion's position on end-of-life decisions where a person is only being kept alive by artificial means.  

            When we started contemplating letting him die, I checked with someone from the Catholic church.  I would have been okay either way, but I knew Mike would want what the church said to do. FYI: It has always been legal to allow people to die by removing life support considered an 'extreme measure.' How many tubes were going in and out of that poor body?  Extreme wasn't the term for it anymore.   

    As the group broke up, I told Kathrin that I wanted to leave quickly. She said she had to say good-bye. Now, my idea of good-bye is, "Good-bye, I was so good to see you. Hope to see you again," and on to the next, including saying good-bye and thank you to the hosts. Two minutes tops.  Her idea was a two-minute conversation with a single individual.  I finally went up to her and said that if she wanted to have long conversations, I would appreciate it if she found someone else to drive her home.  She did. I went home. 

    We're going to have to negotiate this transaction ahead of time.  I appreciate Kathrin's great social skills at making good friends by the droves... , but I'm not ready to make best friends after an evening, no matter how attractive or interesting I find a person. I am more comfortable having a relationship develop slowly over time, months even years with many repeated contacts.  I will tell her that she either has to plan to make other arrangements to get home or plan to say a few quick good-byes in the future.   It was 9:45 pm before I was on the road. I had to drive home, walk the dog, wash my face, brush my teeth, do a little reading to calm down because I was overstimulated from the evening, and get ready to get up a 5:55 the next morning and get myself to Bikram.    

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Musings: I'm putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

In discussing the Bhagavata tonight, Manuel talked about the true ego and the false ego. He said Jung talked about this; he represented it as if they had the same concept.   I just checked Wiki, my favorite source of information. Jung sees the ego as part of the Self.  I don't think the two distinctions are quite the same thing. As Manuel was explaining it, the true ego would be comparable to the  Self as a false ego equivalent to the ego.

    The ego, for me, has something to do with the individual interfaces with the rest of the world. The Self has something to do with our inner workings. It's like looking at the earth's crust, which interacts with the elements versus the Magna inside the earth.  One has to do with a human being in relationship to the world at large; the other has to do with the human condition — Viva la difference. 

    Manuel was saying that the true ego versus the false ego lines up more with Jung's distinctions than mine. Nevertheless, it was nice to hear someone refer to the ego in a positive light and a negative one.

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Musings: I'm putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

            Jung made a distinction between ego versus soul, Self. I'm very interested in the concept of ego.  I think it gets a bad rap.  It is an essential part of our psyche.  Someone without one is in big trouble.  I make a distinction between a healthy, functional ego versus an unhealthy, dysfunctional ego. 

    Jung's design is a circle with a dot in the middle. The dot represents the ego; the circle represents the Self.  The ego, the dot in the middle, is considered part of the Self. I played with different designs showing the relationship between ego and soul.  I first started with the design of a circle for the ego and a circle for the soul.  I couldn't make it work.  

    Then I thought, the ego is formed in response to the available culture as well as internal influences. I drew two circles apart: one circle represented the outer world to which we have to adapt, the other the inner Self, which is both universal and unique to every individual.  The newborn's ego is small to nonexistent and sits between these two forces.  As the child grows and develops, the ego achieves definition in response to both the external and internal forces.

    We are formed by the external world, both physical and social. The outer world offers us roles to play, much as the acting profession offers different roles to performers. These roles include professions and character, moral versus immoral, affectionate versus unaffectionate, etc.  Performers may mold themselves to the roles they play, but they never can completely stop being themselves. No two performers fulfill a role in the same way.  We learn the language and the values of our parents. We learn our role in the family and our possible roles in society.  However, stereotyped the roles we play maybe, we can never escape our Individuality. Even when we try to do so, we each do it in our way.  We are stuck with our Individuality. We define ourselves by these roles. We say, "I am" and "I am not." All this helps us form our ego in relation to the outside world. 

    The ego is the part of us at birth, although undeveloped.  It is,  at best, a feeble sense of "I am." And "I am not." Probably, the "I am not" proceeds the "I am." It starts by distinguishing itself from the physical world. In utero, "I am not the bed of rocks I'm lying on," mother's spine. After birth, "I am not the arms I am lying in. I am not the bed I'm lying on.  This thumb is readily available whenever I need it; it must be close at hand." The infant slowly understands its physical boundaries.  This process is part of ego development. 

    What we call our Individuality is the material we bring in with us. Some of it is genetic.  From what I have read, scientists today recognize that genetics alone do not determine who or what a person becomes. It is also true the genetics can limit or expand our options.  Friends have a Fox G1 child, a genetic mutation that severely limits this child's ability to move his body, not less perceive or think. This child will never develop an ego in the human sense of the word.  Nonetheless, even then, each child born with this condition is unique, and each child's development will be influenced by his/her family and cultural setting. (This does not mean that a 'good' external environment can cure this disability.)

    Besides genetic influences are specific to each individual, there are inner drives that are universal to all of us: the drive to survive physically, and the drive to belong, be accepted and have a secure place in the external world. While these drives are universal,  the way these drives manifest in each individual is different depending on both internal and external influences. 

    As understood by a newborn and young child, the need to be loved is also a survival need.  We need to know that we are valued and will not be left for the wolves. (For those who haven't already gotten the idea, I'm big on evolutionary psychology's influence.  No, I do not consider it the sole determinant of what we become in our lives, but it is part of the quality of the material we have to work with as we work to develop ourselves.).  

    The inner part of us comes with two elements: the loving, cooperative side, and the side that wants what it wants when it wants it- and so there. This part of us is just as capable of hatred and anger. If selfishness is built into us, it must have a positive, possibly survival,  purpose, and therefore has value. 

    I don't know if human beings have always wanted to be seen as individuals within the tribal unit. (My guess is the drive was more in the other direction, to be seen as one of the tribe and not as an individual). I assume this need to see ourselves as distinct from those around us, as an individual, comes up when we are uncomfortable with the external expectations and are forced to see ourselves as different. (As we well know, societies respond differently at different times to variations on the existing mores.)      

    The ego is our self-awareness, self-concept forms from input from both our external world, the world we are born into, and our nonconscious minds. The ego, which sits between the external and the internal world, expands and grows with time.  Hopefully, this image is the design that proved most satisfying to me. I have no idea if there is someone else who has written about ego with this design.  If there is, let me know.

    Like any work of art, we are formed by the external influences on us, the artists that help make us.  A good artist sees what shape that piece of wood or marble will lend itself to. Just as wood is wood, but each piece of wood is unique.  The uniqueness of each piece of wood is created by the interplay of internal and extremal forces. What can be made with each piece of wood for the artist, even if each piece of wood from the same tree, is distinct.  We are all a work of art in the making. A good artist learns how to work with his medium, understanding its limitations and possibilities.  He doesn't ignore those factors and think he can make the medium bend to his vision.  The artist also has to develop his skills. (That is another topic for another day.) Unlike a wooden work of art, we are one of the artists creating ourselves. We have choices.

Saturday, July 13, 2019

    At the end of Bikram today, I got into a conversation with Bruce, a student on the mat next to mine.  I have no idea how it started, but he was telling me that he taught martial arts to children, and they couldn’t follow directions for love nor money.  I gave him some suggestions on how to teach this skill. Step one: isolate a specific action from the larger activity, training them to follow those directions. It will save time in the long run.
    Then the topic of kinesthetic awareness came up.  It was clear that these kids had none.  I showed him how to teach that to them by using my method of Micromoves, very slowly moving either the fingers or toes-  -very slowly.  While he could feel the impact of the movement, it didn’t feel weird.  That suggests that his kinesthetic awareness was fairly well developed.  People who are not used to body awareness at a muscular level find the experience strange, and some don’t even feel that I’m moving their fingers or toes — just some weird sensation.
    I asked him if he was aware that I had a high degree of kinesthetic awareness. He said, “I am now.”  Before, he thought I was moving slowly to be cautious.  Now, that’s true too.  He didn’t think he could apply the principles I use at his skill level.  I told him I could show him how to adapt them for his needs. He said from now on he would try to be near me so he could watch what I do.    I was surprised that someone skilled in a movement discipline didn’t recognize what I am doing.  However, I ‘m not sure I could determine what someone else is doing, either.
    After Bikram, I went to the health food store for pumpkin seeds and golden flax seeds. Then to UPS to drop off a trunk stuffed with bubble wrap.  Mike Glaser, my cousin, had borrowed three pictures of my great-aunt for an exhibition in her home town in Germany.   They were returned a while ago, but I had postponed unwrapping them because I wanted to wait until Damon arrived, and we could rearrange pictures in my house together.  I opened one of the returned paintings, a young boy in a petting zoo, because I had a place for it, and it wasn’t going to change.  Then I opened the second one because it had a fixed place also. I took the third out of the box. The three paintings were surrounded in layers and layers of bubble wrap. UPS reuses the stuff.  Ah!
    Then I went to the bank and deposited two checks from the State of New Jersey Pension and Benefits Department.  One was a widow’s benefit for something like $1500.  Given what it costs to cremate someone today, that’s not much of a boon; Social Security is even worse. The other check was all the payments from March through July.  I also got a withholding tax form from them.  It asks if I’m single or married.  I had to think about it.  I guess I’m single, at least for tax purposes. I suppose even for dating purposes — another cut.
    Then I went to Costco.  I received a notification to renew my membership. Mike and I had the Executive Membership for $125.  Our rewards for this year didn’t cover the $125, and with me alone, it will be even less.  I haven’t decided whether to join Josh and Yvette on their membership or get my own for $60, without the rewards program.  There is no way it will be worth it for me.
    When I got home, Kathrin was busy in the kitchen cleaning out the cabinets.  When she is inspired to rearrange, she always asks me first.  I had mixed feelings.  Yes, I told her she could clean whenever she liked. Yes, I am thrilled to have the cabinets cleaned. What a great house guest! But, but despite all the positives, there is a sense of boundary violation.  Oh, it’s hard being human.
    Kathrin helped me unload the car.  I put the Bikram stuff from Scott and me in the laundry with some miscellaneous items for Kathrin and me. Then I had my morning soup and did some work on the blog.

Friday, July 12, 2019

    When I got home from Bikram, there was still no sign of Kathrin.  She had dinner with a friend last night and planned to stay over.  She didn't have a car and was dependent on him to drive her home.  I have no idea what their plans are.  An old New York friend of mine once said, "You always have to leave room for people to fall in love on the subway."  I'm not worried. I know the guy through Bikram, and I'm sure he's not a serial killer.
    I was alone most of yesterday and now today. I'm rather enjoying it.  I don't know if I just enjoy being alone, or I'm in a better mood for no particular reason.  I got some things done this morning, which always makes me feel better. I don't make a list or even remember what I would put on a list, but undone chores weigh on me.
    Last night B came up to offer me some freshly picked bananas still on the stem. Hey, Rousseau, bananas grow up not down. I got him to demonstrate how to tie a knot in the nylon fish line, again. I didn't get it the first time. This time I videoed him doing it, and he used an electric cord to demonstrate, so it was easy for me to see.  Now that I can tie these knots on my own, I can work reassembling my mom's wind chime.
    After announcing that I was through with cataloging the books, I realized there was one more shelf I had missed. I cataloged them and sent John Coughlin the email address of the librarian at Notre Dame Seminary so we can start the process of emptying the library of its 3700 books. I'm sure Mike feels sorry for leaving me with this job.  I think he was assuming we would die together, at least that was his plan, and Damon and Yvette would have been stuck with the job.  I know what they would have done: dialed 1-800-dumpster. That would have had both of us turning over in our graves.
    I have started cleaning out the area where the file cabinets are kept where I’m planning to put in a bathroom. I have found 4 empty boxes. Why? Mike saved everything.  I also found his old computer.  Hopefully, I can figure out the password and get into it.  I may  find the electronic copies of his dissertation and his other book.
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Musings:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.
     
I was looking up the Ho'oponopono, the Hawaiian healing prayer, when I happened upon a YouTube video of Joe Vitale describing it.  Boy, did I have a different understanding of the prayer! I like his version much better.
    Both the version I am already familiar with and his include taking responsibility for whatever is happening in the world,  good as well as bad.  But the prayer focuses on undoing our contribution to whatever is bad in the world.
    In the version I was familiar with, I said, "I'm sorry, I love you, forgive me, thank you," to the person who was suffering.  But in Vitalie's description, I am saying it to God, or some version of an infinite being.  I am supposed to say it whenever I observe something which disturbs me.  The theory is if it bothers me, I have some role in it.  I may not know what my part is, but it is there. I know I have a role because the circumstances trigger a reaction in me.
    I say the prayer not to heal the other person but myself.  I want to heal myself from my reaction.  In doing so, I also heal the other person or situation.
    I have known about the prayer for years, and have used it in the past as I thought it was supposed to be used.  I can't wait to put this approach to the prayer into action.  I think the difference is that it is for my healing as well as the other persons.  That sounds right to me.

Thursday, July 11, 2019

    Last night I finished cataloging the books, 3705.  There are probably about 50 that are duplicates, but yes, he has a lot of books. Completing this task makes me sad.  It is one more step to removing any trace of Mike from this house.  Getting rid of the books is a whole other thing. I figure it will take two years, at least, but it will be a loss by a thousand cuts slowly administered. I don’t know if that is better or worse.

    I am feeling the loss of Mike deeply.  I have no one who looks at me with delight and thinks, “How did I get to be so lucky?”  That’s what Mike used to say. I would look at him the same way, and think,  “How did I get so lucky to have been found by him?”  Yes, he initiated the relationship. He made up his mind that he wanted to marry me before our first date. I was like a skittish horse he had to tame.

    Yesterday, I called Jean, Mike’s first wife, and my hanai sister, because I needed to speak to someone I love and someone who loves me.  There may be other people who love me, but Jean can radiate love the way Mike could.  When she answered the phone, I told her why I had called. She is one of the few people who wouldn’t have responded as if that was weird. 

    Heather, the Bikram instructor, suggested that we lift our collar bones.  I tried it, and wow!  First off,  the movement from my collar bones has the effect of lowering my shoulders. As I lift them, the front of my chest rotates up without a backbend, and the shoulders rotate down. It’s a whole new world.

    It also changes my breathing.  J.J. had gotten me to change my breathing by extending my belly to exhale and sucking it in and up to take in a breath.  I had trouble doing it.  Now that Heather introduced the idea of lifting my collar bone, I am coordinating that with the inhale, and it is much easier.  

    There are theories that there is a relationship between breathing patterns and blood pressure.  High blood pressure runs in my family. Everyone had it, except me- until my five-week stint in the hospital with Mike,  I was on no blood pressure medication.  Now, I finally had high numbers too.  While I was in Oahu, my blood pressure was running 164/ 100.  I called my primary doctor and got on blood pressure medication immediately. I was on four pills a day and still had trouble bringing it down.  

    Since I’ve been home, I’ve been on two pills a day.    It’s not perfect, but certainly better.  Today I had these numbers:  140/8, 128/78, 134/80, 114/74.  It always starts higher, and I can always bring it down by modifying my breathing.  The last time I took it, it was 120/76 the first time.  I worked on my breathing while taking it.  I’m going to continue working on my breathing so I can get off these pills permanently.

    I wish I had known about this long ago. The doctor said Mike’s kidney disease was caused by high blood pressure. Maybe, just maybe, I could have gotten Mike to change his breathing.  

    His breathing always concerned me.  He would do one and a half to two breaths to my one, even when he was asleep and I was awake.  I believe that proper breathing is essential for good health. While I used my abdominal muscles incorrectly, I have always been a deep breather.  Why? I have no idea.  But Mike would never have changed.  When I tried to recommend some physical change,  he would say, “Wow, this is comfortable,” and go back to what seemed ‘natural’ to him. I know he never found dialysis comfortable.  If a doctor had told him to change his breathing and sent him to a respiratory therapist, he would have listened.  But I was not an ‘expert’ and so what I knew didn’t count.  Oh, well.

    Mike’s pancreatitis was a shocker too.  The only cause the doctor could identify was the pills he took for depression and anxiety. He did try therapy, but the trauma behind his anxiety was too deep, and no one could help him.  Before we left Ohio, he was working with someone who used EMDR. He said he thought that was helping.  We thought Kaiser wouldn’t cover the therapists we knew did it.  I tried to tell him we could afford the therapy, but he refused.  I accidentally learned that if your primary doctor at Kaiser prescribed EMDR, they would cover it.  He was seeing one but not often enough.  I don’t know if my commitment to transformation will save me from anything. Still, I believe that Mike’s unwillingness to experience the discomfort that comes with change contributed to his illnesses and death.   

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Musings:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

    I listened to one of those new age (do they still call it that) radio programs. The guest had written a book called  No Self: Forty  Reasons to Get Over Yourself and Find Peace of Mind.  That poor self; it gets such a bad rap.  In the next sentence, the guest/author talked about who survives trauma without PTSD.  Guess what?  It’s the ones who pay attention to themselves instead of pushing down emotion.  Anyone else see a contradiction here?  

    Yes, overemphasizing individualism at the price of connection leaves us in despair, but overemphasizing communalism at the cost of individualism also leaves us in despair. It isn’t an either-or choice.  It’s a paradox. 

    If you look at any human hand, you know that it is human.  We are all built the same, at least by design.  The shape of our hands is universal among our species.  However, turn that hand over, and the details of it are so specific we can identify someone by their fingerprints.  The hand is both a symbol of the universal and the individual.  It is a paradox.  How can one thing be two things at the same time?  It just is.  

    Within us, there are these two conflicting needs: to be one with others, be part of something greater than ourselves, lose ourselves in it, and stand alone as a pure individual. Eastern religions emphasize losing ourselves in the universal. Christianity talks about losing ourselves. However, the promise of heaven is that we maintain our individuality.  Put those two together and see how they fit.   

    These contradictions are normal.  Everything is pulled in two directions: in toward the center and out toward the fringe.  Language works that way.  It pulls toward regular and the irregular simultaneously.  Sometimes one side wins too much, and we become lopsided. Balance, ah, how do we achieve that?  Is it possible to be permanently in balance? I doubt it.  We’re all on a carnival ride.

Tuesday, July 9, 2019

    I got more stretch in my left foot and lower leg at Bikram today, and my upper thighs when I stood upright. I put all my focus on those two objectives.  Heather, the instructor, came up to me during class to ask me if I was all right because I was doing such a minimal amount. I fear that I will lapse back into my old compensatory movement pattern if I try to do more.  I would rather start from the beginning and focus on these small changes.  Once my body gets used to them, I can go back to getting deeper into the asana. It amazes me that people don’t see what I‘m doing. However, I don’t know if I would see it clearly if I watched someone else work as I do. I think everyone thinks I’m having a bad day, or even worse, they worry that I’ve lost more of my range of movement due to age or depreciation.

    When I got home, Kathrin was on the phone.  She called me over.  It was her parents.  I suggested a while ago that she introduce me to them so they can see that she is in a safe situation and not with some crazy lady running a brothel. 

    Then I napped. Boy, am I ever tired.  Is it the work, the chiropractor, did on me yesterday? Is it the grief I feel about Mike’s loss triggered by my encounter in the bank yesterday? Is it lack of protein? Is it the oppressive humidity we have here now because of the side effects of a tropical depression? Is it the sudden withdrawal from Hersey’s Milk Chocolate Bars with whole almonds?  I’m off them for a while.

    I wasn’t getting satisfaction from them anymore. I was downing 2 to 3 bars a night and still not feeling satisfied.  I think it is a way to judge if something is good for me or not. If I am not satisfied by a little bit but require more and more, it’s bad for me, and my body needs a rest.  Judy suggested that this withdrawal could be a problem, causing insulin fluctuations. Who knows. Too many options. The one I can fix is the lack of protein. Kathrin is planning on making eggs tonight. 

    When I woke up from my several-hour nap, I saw Elsa had pooped on the lanai rug.  Poor girl, it certainly wasn’t her fault.  Usually, I go to the bathroom more frequently, and she will come and ask to go out of the bathroom door to the back yard.  I apologized for putting her in such a difficult position. Then to clean it up.  After I picked up the bulk of it, I went to work with my Rainbow vacuum cleaner. I poured water on the spot and sucked it up with the vacuum. I did that over and over until the spot looked clean and relatively dry.  In my experience, by the time I’m through with this procedure, the spot I’ve cleaned is the cleanest on the rug

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Musings:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

    I believe there are several reasons people become addicted to chemicals.  Because of the opiate crisis, we know that it doesn’t always start as a pursuit of pleasure, keeping up while chugging with friends, or the avoidance of some physical pain. Some people use chemicals to self-medicate and avoid facing their disappointments with themselves and their lives. 

    Getting free from the grip of that addiction is a challenge.  There are two critical factors in making any changes in ourselves.  First, setting a goal, and second, having the means for achieving that goal: the what and the how. I am wondering how many of these folks only have the goal of freeing themselves from the addiction.  If that’s the goal, then they have to choose between their suffering with the addiction and their suffering without it. 

    Without the numbing effect of chemical addiction, they have to deal with pain,  shame, and disappointments.  With the addiction, they have to deal with the disappointment in themselves for not controlling themselves and the consequential shame.  If those are the only two choices, I can understand why addicts stick with their addiction.  At least with the addiction, there are moments when they are numbed to the pain.  Without the benefit of the chemicals, they have to face the pain and shame 24/7.  These folks don’t see a third option: being relatively free of suffering without chemicals.  How do you convince people that there is a third alternative?  How do you convince people they can survive exploring this third alternative?  It does mean facing something they would rather not about themselves. It’s a tough call if they can’t imagine dealing with hidden feelings without being destroyed by them.

Tuesday, July 9, 2019

    I got more stretch in my left foot and lower leg at Bikram today, and my upper thighs when I stood upright. I put all my focus on those two objectives.  Heather, the instructor, came up to me during class to ask me if I was all right because I was doing such a minimal amount. I fear that I will lapse back into my old compensatory movement pattern if I try to do more.  I would rather start from the beginning and focus on these small changes.  Once my body gets used to them, I can go back to getting deeper into the asana. It amazes me that people don’t see what I‘m doing. However, I don’t know if I would see it clearly if I watched someone else work as I do. I think everyone thinks I’m having a bad day, or even worse, they worry that I’ve lost more of my range of movement due to age or depreciation.

    When I got home, Kathrin was on the phone.  She called me over.  It was her parents.  I suggested a while ago that she introduce me to them so they can see that she is in a safe situation and not with some crazy lady running a brothel. 

    Then I napped. Boy, am I ever tired.  Is it the work, the chiropractor, did on me yesterday? Is it the grief I feel about Mike’s loss triggered by my encounter in the bank yesterday? Is it lack of protein? Is it the oppressive humidity we have here now because of the side effects of a tropical depression? Is it the sudden withdrawal from Hersey’s Milk Chocolate Bars with whole almonds?  I’m off them for a while.

    I wasn’t getting satisfaction from them anymore. I was downing 2 to 3 bars a night and still not feeling satisfied.  I think it is a way to judge if something is good for me or not. If I am not satisfied by a little bit but require more and more, it’s bad for me, and my body needs a rest.  Judy suggested that this withdrawal could be a problem, causing insulin fluctuations. Who knows. Too many options. The one I can fix is the lack of protein. Kathrin is planning on making eggs tonight. 

    When I woke up from my several-hour nap, I saw Elsa had pooped on the lanai rug.  Poor girl, it certainly wasn’t her fault.  Usually, I go to the bathroom more frequently, and she will come and ask to go out of the bathroom door to the back yard.  I apologized for putting her in such a difficult position. Then to clean it up.  After I picked up the bulk of it, I went to work with my Rainbow vacuum cleaner. I poured water on the spot and sucked it up with the vacuum. I did that over and over until the spot looked clean and relatively dry.  In my experience, by the time I’m through with this procedure, the spot I’ve cleaned is the cleanest on the rug

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Musings:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

    I believe there are several reasons people become addicted to chemicals.  Because of the opiate crisis, we know that it doesn’t always start as a pursuit of pleasure, keeping up while chugging with friends, or the avoidance of some physical pain. Some people use chemicals to self-medicate and avoid facing their disappointments with themselves and their lives. 

    Getting free from the grip of that addiction is a challenge.  There are two critical factors in making any changes in ourselves.  First, setting a goal, and second, having the means for achieving that goal: the what and the how. I am wondering how many of these folks only have the goal of freeing themselves from the addiction.  If that’s the goal, then they have to choose between their suffering with the addiction and their suffering without it. 

    Without the numbing effect of chemical addiction, they have to deal with pain,  shame, and disappointments.  With the addiction, they have to deal with the disappointment in themselves for not controlling themselves and the consequential shame.  If those are the only two choices, I can understand why addicts stick with their addiction.  At least with the addiction, there are moments when they are numbed to the pain.  Without the benefit of the chemicals, they have to face the pain and shame 24/7.  These folks don’t see a third option: being relatively free of suffering without chemicals.  How do you convince people that there is a third alternative?  How do you convince people they can survive exploring this third alternative?  It does mean facing something they would rather not about themselves. It’s a tough call if they can’t imagine dealing with hidden feelings without being destroyed by them.

Monday, July 8, 2019

    I didn't do any writing yesterday. I woke up, and 8 am when the alarm went off and was still exhausted.  I went to church. When I came home from church, I was even more tired. I went down for a nap.  Why am I so tired?  Is it because going to church reminds me of Mike, who should assist the priest, read the gospel, and give the homily? Am I that tired because I don't feel connected to the church, and the incongruence exhausts me?  Am I exhausted because I tire myself out all week, and Sunday is a day to collapse?  Who knows?

    I petitioned heaven when I was there for My Mike.  If anyone deserves the best accommodations, he does.

    I went to Gertrude's Jazz Bar last night with Katrine.  Yvette and Scott joined us when they could.  The performer was lovely, reminded me of Nora Jones, but I found her style monotonous.  I have never been to a concert with only one performer since Mike took me to one in the village in the 70s.  He had seen this group when he went with some colleagues in Albany and bought their album.  I don't know if their performance was varied, or I was familiar with their work and knew each song individually. What was great about my evening out tonight was the location of Gertrude's itself.  Like many restaurants in Hawaii, it is open-air with a view of the ocean and ocean breezes to soothe us.  Just sitting there was good enough for me. 

    Today was a busy, busy day. Bikram, home to eat breakfast and do some weeding, shower and off to the chiropractor, and then to the bank.

    I had a check from the credit card company for unclaimed bonus points on Mike's credit card made out to the Estate of Michael David Ross. I had a problem depositing it. If I had anticipated it,  I could have brought the will in with me when I went to the bank and shown them the trust, but I forgot that I had it in the car.  The bank teller checked with a higher up, and they accepted the check for deposit. Done. 

    I flashed Mike's driver's license while at the bank, thinking that would give me more credibility. I kissed his sweet face. It's one of the better pictures of him that I have readily available- for now. When Damon comes over Christmas, we're going to set up a picture gallery in his open closet area.  I will have plenty of pictures to remember him by.  I will see him not just serious but also laughing with family and friends. 

    For the most part, I don't 'miss' him. My life goes on; I find satisfaction. It's only at moments that I miss loving him. My heart swells with the memory.  I let it in, and then go on. Feeling that love for him was a nice respite. 

    After the bank, I was off to Office Max to Xerox all the documents that Damon will need upon my death, all the original signed and notarized sheets, all the documents showing where the money is hidden. It occurs to me that I should make a set of copies for Karin too, and get Damon to tell her where he has the originals. When I got home, I did some work cataloging books.  I am almost finished. It thought I would be finished by Sunday,  but it will probably be by Tuesday.

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Musings: I'm putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

    In my last post, I wrote about how religions inform us about the human condition.  In that entry, I wrote about how the changes in religions over the centuries tell us of the changes in societies' social structure.

     The need to love and be loved is addressed by religious worship.  I know Christianity emphasizes the love of Jesus for us. I don't know if other religions speak about God loving us and comforting us,  but all religions talk about the need for us to worship, love, and adore God.  Some think why would I worship a God that needs or even responds to worship?  But I see it as providing an outlet for one of our most basic needs: the need to love, yes, even more than we need to be loved.

    Victor Frankel found his psychological freedom in a concentration camp through love.  He focused on his love for his wife.  He wasn't even sure she was still alive, but he focused on sending her love.  He found that doing this changed his frame of mind.  He could be a loving person, even in the midst of severe deprivation and the constant threat of death.

    Loving others unconditionally isn't easy for any of us.  We are born with the capacity to be annoyed and distressed when we don't get what we want, particularly from other human beings. But God, hmm, we can love God unconditionally excepting that everything He does is the best for us, even if we don't get it why it would be.  

    When I was in Oahu during Mike's hospitalization, I stayed at a Krishna Ashram.  They spoke of serving the deities.  They bathed, dressed, and fed statues every day.  In the Abrahamic tradition, this sounds bizarre.  However, as I was attending to Mike, I could feel my love for him grow.   Caring for someone, or in the case of Krishna's something (a statue), lovingly, is a wonderful experience.  It nurtures our loving nature.  And boy, does that ever feel good.  So much better than drugs.  This loving life is what I miss with Mike.      We would express our love for each other every day just because it felt good. 

            It's interesting, I consider expressing love for another is a gift to that person, but there are cultures where what is not expressed shows love.  My guess is it means you keep your complaints to yourself.  I guess you don't express the positive because it can open Pandora's box to all emotions, negative as well as positive. You don't want a world where negative emotions flow freely.  However, neither do I want to live in a world where positive emotions can never be expressed as long as the negative ones do not outnumber them.

    There were things about Mike he needed to change, just as there was and is about me.  I found that I would know when to say something, start complaining even when they became more annoying.  This worked for me.  It works in my teaching too.  I don't correct a student or use a teaching approach I know until it comes to mind.  It is at that point that it is appropriate to introduce it.  Before then, the student isn't ready to use that information or approach. But this assumes that I am centered enough to make a decision born out of concern for the other person instead of one guided by my fear about something or another.

     I admit I am not very good with people who genuinely believe that the way they are is immutable; they cannot change because that is the way they are.  Heaven, preserve me from those people.  Yuck! There is no narrow way with people like that.  Living with them is like participating in a carnival bumper car ride; the fun of that is limited.

Saturday, July 7, 2019

    Woke up one minute before the alarm went off at 7. I was still tired, despite having gone to bed early.  While walking Elsa, I pushed my right hip further back and over to the left using my right psoas muscle.  It challenges the groin and hip muscles in the left hip.  I’m working on the theory that those muscles are compromised because of poor alignment, which caused atrophy of the muscles and dehydration of the connective tissue, rather than the lack of cartilage in the hip.  So far, so good.

    While in savasana, I had the image that Mike needed me to petition the guards of heaven so he could get in.  I will storm those gates. This man was as wonderful as any human being could be.  I know everyone is going to think of their idea of a perfect partner as  I describe Mike.  Probably not. He could be as annoying and disappointing as any other human being.  It’s just that most of the ways he was annoying didn’t push my buttons, and I deeply appreciated the things that were delightful about him. I will start arguing with St. Peter if he is indeed the ones guarding those Pearly Gates.  Either way, I can file a pretty convincing petition about his merits and entitlement to the best that any afterlife has to offer.  I want the best for Michael.

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Musings:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

    Brooks talks about how religious beliefs teach us about the human condition.  I agree; our religious beliefs and teaching tell us a lot about ourselves.  I believe we create religions to address our needs.  Saying this does not mean I’m arguing for or against the existence of God. I could say that we create God or that God created us so we would develop these beliefs.  I don’t believe that any one religion is the correct one.  If there is a God, I prefer thinking that He/She is so generous to offer all these ways of connecting with Him/Her.  

    Mike’s book includes a lot about the need to return to the sacred and not be seduced by the secular.  I’ve been thinking about the difference between pagan religions and those that speak of one God.  (I’m do not hold myself up as an expert on world religions.  If I say something wrong about what some religion advocates, please let me know. Do not offer an opinion that one belief system is superior to another.)

    I think that the pagan religions represented the deities as more powerful, magical even, human beings.  With the belief in one God, religious views became more abstract, less modeled after human beings. As societies became more materially secure and more diverse, it was necessary to develop systems governing behavior that was more abstract so people from different cultural groups could relate to it.

    Before that, there was no difference between the secular and the sacred in society.  Everything was secular, having to do with the community, and everything was sacred, having to do with powers greater than human, implicitly if not explicitly.  There was no need to speak of how the secular and the sacred differed.  The term sacred and secular probably had no place in anyone’s vocabulary until diverse cultural groups lived side-by-side with different values and different ways of doing things.  Since they either didn’t share a religion or each group had their variation on the same faith, the need to develop secular rules of behavior arose. Following that, the development of religions with more abstract deities, less human, developed.  All the world’s great religions I know of believe in one God, or some Oversoul.

    The various representation of God, or even no God as in Buddhism, is an undefined something that is greater than whatever it means to be human. All these religions have some sense that God is vast, much greater than any individual or group of individuals. 

    People talk about how to bring the sacred back into our lives.  This is the great challenge of the 21st century.  How do we bring it back without creating tribalism, without denigrating the ‘others,’ those who are not just like?  Ah, there’s the rub — poor us. We yearn to belong to something larger than ourselves, and yet we fear both losing our individualism or fear the development of ethnocentric tribalism.     

Saturday, July 6, 2019

    I stopped off at Safeway to pick up a whole grain baguette, one of my dinner mainstays.  There was none on the shelf.  I asked one of the workers, and  I walked out with one that was still warm.  Hmm! Then I went to Costco to get air in my tires; the warning light was on.  I pulled up in front of the open bays and sat and sat and sat.  I must have waited a good 5 minutes.  My east coast temperament was saying, "Don't just sit there. Get out and find someone. Ask them what's going on." I had to remind myself that this was Hawaii, and I wasn't in a hurry.  Eventually, someone came out and asked me if I wanted air. Yep! By the time I left, there were two cars lined up behind me.
    I was tired when I got home. Too tired to work on the blog.  I played FreeCell for awhile. After that, I started the washing machine with today's Bikram stuff for Scott and me, and whatever extra laundry Katrin and I had.
    I was rereading the early entries in the blog yesterday to edit them for going online. I came across an incident when Mike was in the ICU for the first time when a nurse told him to relax and stop thinking.  I blew up. I consider that a cruel thing to say to someone even when they are not as incapacitated and vulnerable as Mike was at that moment.  It has taken me years of training to silence my mind and calm it when it gets worked up.  Mike had no such training.  I asked her if she could do it; she said yes.  She said she could see he was the type of person who thought too much.  I have no idea how she got that idea from a man who was flat on his back with tubes going in and out of him and drugged,  unable to communicate with anyone.  Maybe she was psychic and picked up that Mike was worried about himself and me. I guess people who are not intellectuals don't do that. Really??  A better solution would have been to tell him what to do or sing a lovely soothing song, something positive instead of instructions not to do something. I wish I had reported her.
    On the other hand, Mike's response was to ask for the notebook so he could write something.  He wrote, "Be gentle." I still prefer the idea of ripping her a new one.

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Musings: I'm putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

    Unfortunately, so many people think they accomplish good by declaring themselves good.   I spoke with my therapist today about the phenomena of people who think they haven't hurt others simply because they didn't intend to.  She said she sees it, particularly among step-mothers. We didn't discuss this at length, but I assume that these women ignore how difficult the situation is for their step-children and only focus on how they are being mistreated.
    When I got together with Mike, I had a friend who said, "Make sure he gets rid of that kid.," meaning Damon, who was a small child at the time. She didn't mean he should kill him, but as far as she was concerned, the child's presence would ruin our lives.  I can see that she might think that from what she has observed in the second marriage to some of her friends.
    I would never, and I mean never, have stayed with a man who abandoned his child. And I mean never.  Second place, while Damon did give me grief ignoring me, and even avoiding conversations with me, I was deeply committed to him.  Periodically, I would breakdown and weep. Then Mike would call Jean, Damon's mom, and she would encourage him to treat me somewhat better. I saw he was in a difficult situation., conflicted by his loyalty to his mom and what I knew was he love for me.  I felt sorry for him.  I also loved him right from the beginning.  I still love him. I made a commitment to that child through my commitment to Mike.  I wouldn't have had it any other way.
    Fortunately, all the adults in Damon's life were civilized people.  I don't mean there were no problematic moments and no acting out, but we were all able to remain civil. We all worked together to create a unified family for Damon.
    What do I have now?  I have Damon, who is there for me now that his dad is dead.  He loves me.  I also have another sister, Jean, Damon's mother. We love each other.  My life is so much richer for my commitment.  I made my contribution to this outcome, but I could never have done it alone.
    My ability to empathize with Damon and even Jean's point of view has netted me a great reward.

 
   

Friday, July 5, 2019

  On the way home from Bikram, I stopped off at the vet to pick up food and meds for the girl. I had plans of washing Elsa and doing some garden work. I worked on the blog; I got out three days and then had to nap.  

    Kathrin said a friend of hers wanted to come over and harvest my coconut tree.  This was great. It costs an average of $100 a year to have these babies cut down. The one remaining coconut tree was generally ignored; it is not centrally located on the property, but it is still a danger to the dogs and the gardeners.  Those things are lethal when they come down. Kathrin took pictures of the tree and sent them to her friend.  Yep! It will serve his purposes well.

    When he got here, I contacted Yvette and Josh to warn them what was going on. They put their dogs inside of their protection.  Traditionally, men climbed the coconut trees with nothing more than their arms and legs and a strap.  Today, especially for anyone over 30, a tree climber is used.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aujhbsoOpWQ I included this video because you have to see this. The guy got 32 coconuts from one tree. 

    He usually has to drive to the other side of the island to get his coconuts. I called several neighbors to see if they also had coconut trees they would be willing to have him harvest for free. If he does this for all the trees in the neighborhood, we’ll get the work done for free, and he won’t have to travel to the other side of the island to get what he needs.  I was only able to text of three families at that time. We checked out two of them.  The family next door has several, but one was bad.  The other neighbor has a tree that isn’t good anymore, either.

    Kathrin’s friend also checked out my failing plumeria tree. One limb has given up and is lying down on the ground and then growing back up again.  Yvette through it was going bad. We had problems with rotting plumeria trees before.  But he said no, That wasn’t the problem. He said the weight of the limb on a downhill side was simply too much for the tree to support.  He found a tree branch and used it as a crutch for the failing limb.  He said this way, the tree limb can strengthen and support itself.  He told me that I would have to continue supporting the limb, maybe forever, maybe not. Her friend also loaded our recycling into the van.  I took it down to the transfer station. 

    As I worked in the library cataloging Mike’s books, it rained on and off. Around 9:30, when it was somewhat lighter, I grabbed the opportunity and took Elsa for a walk.  No way. She got to the edge of the driveway and headed back to the house.  She’s a Princess Never Get Wet like her mom.  She immediately went to the door to the back yard.  She had to pee, but I guess she figured it wouldn’t be raining back there.  She didn’t like what she found.  She usually pees out there on the gravel just beyond the tiled area, which is under the overhang.  I didn’t watch, but I think she finally gave up and peed on the tile, although it was not her preference.

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Musings:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.

Unfortunately, so many people think they accomplish good by declaring themselves good.   I spoke with my therapist today about the phenomena of people who think they haven’t hurt others simply because they didn’t intend to.  She said she sees it, particularly among step-mothers. We didn’t discuss this at length, but I assume that these women ignore how difficult the situation is for their step-children and only focus on the problems the children are causing for them.

    When I first met Mike, I had a friend who said, “Make sure he gets rid of that kid.,” meaning Damon, who was a small child at the time. She didn’t mean he should kill him, but as far as she was concerned, the presence of that child would ruin our lives.  I can see that she might think that from what she had observed in the second marriages of some of her friends.   

    I would never, and I mean never, have stayed with a man who abandoned his child. And I mean never.  While Damon did give me grief, ignoring me, and even avoiding conversations with me, I was deeply committed to him.  Periodically, I would breakdown and weep. Mike would call Jean, Damon’s mom, and she would encourage him to treat me somewhat better. I saw he was in a difficult situation, conflicted by his loyalty to his mom and what I knew was he love for me.  I felt sorry for him.  I also loved him right from the beginning.  I still love him. I committed that child through my commitment to Mike.  I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

    My commitment was made easy. All the adults in Damon’s life were civilized people.  I don’t mean there were no problematic moments and no acting out, but we were all able to remain civil. We all worked together to create a unified family for Damon.

    What do I have now?  I have Damon, who is there for me now that his dad is dead.  He loves me.  I also have another sister, Jean, Damon’s mother. We love each other.  My life is so much richer for my commitment.  I made my contribution to this outcome, but I could never have done it alone.  

Thursday, July 4, 2019

    First July 4 without Mike. Feel a little sad.  What I miss the most is his loving him and being loved by him.  I was so comfortable with him, so completely myself.  Knowing I could trust him enabled me to expand my trust to others.  I am so much better off for having been his partner for 45 years.
    I slept through the whole second half of Bikram, lovely deep relaxing sleep. When I get new movement in my hip and back, it limits how much more I can do that day.  I have to give my body time to consider the changes and decide how it wants to respond.  It needs time to learn. Because Scott is in class, and I know that he can peel me up off the floor when I can’t get up on my own, I can relax completely. What a luxury!  Sometimes I’m so relaxed I can’t imagine ever getting my muscles into action again.
    When I got home, I suggested a garlic rinse to Katrin to help with the infected wounds on her legs. Also,  Sandor came over today. He worked on scanning all the letters mom had saved. Most are in German, but I’m pretty sure they are all letters responding to the news of my birth. He set up the blog too. He said before we broadcast it, he wanted to make some refinements.  He was lovely company. I got tired and took a nap while he finished up working on the blog.
    Sandor took one of the hard copies of Mike’s book on the diaconate. He had been reading it slowly to savor it.  I asked him directly about the quality of the book.  I told him I found it repetitious and overwritten. Sandor said yes, but this how all theology books sound. Ow!  How counterproductive. I also showed him Mike’s book on the Foundations of Theology, the one I knew he was writing. He took that home to scan it.  He said this has to be published too.
    Sandor is planning on taking all four of Mike’s four-drawer file cabinets home with him. This is great. The less Mike’s precious collection goes into the trash, the happier both Mike and I will be, him because it’s his precious collection, and me because it is his precious collection and I hate to add to the trash collection. After I’m through cataloging the books, I will have to clear off the papers on top of the cabinets. Then Sandor will move them out one drawer at a time.
    The night concluded with all the usual routines.  I’m almost finished entering the books into the catalog.  I must have under 200 left to go.
    I stopped watching Silent Witness. Many moons ago, I commented on how predictable and steady the show was.  I considered not watching it anymore, but then the format changed.  The original lead actress dropped out, and the plots became edgier.  However, they have become too edgy now. I’m having nightmares. Not my idea of entertainment.  For anyone interested, the show is on Amazon and that 23 (twenty-three ) seasons.  I’ve switched to watching Vanity Fair, also on Amazon.  Much more to my taste.

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Musings:  I’m putting this separately so those who are not interested can choose not to read it.
    Mike’s parents were card-carrying Communists.  One of my Republican friends asked me recently how they could have aligned themselves with that political point of view. I said because they were concerned for the welfare of the marginalized in our society.  They were concerned about the unequal allocation of wealth and power in society that made workers into helpless victims of their employers.  While I agree with their concern, we know now that their allegiance was horribly misplaced.
    We know now the Soviet Union turn into a brutal dictatorship, killing millions of people who didn’t give their whole-hearted support to the party.  We also know that the former ‘proletariat’ turned into the same monster as their predecessors once they had power.
    There were two serious miscalculations.  First, beware of enforcing a utopian vision. I believe it is considered a sin in Catholicism to pursue a utopian ideal.  Christianity, at least, reserves the utopian vision for God’s domain, something not possible while on the Earth.  Simple wisdom.  I can think of many stories where utopian ideals have gone sour, but I know of none where they have worked.
    I wonder if the Shaker communities are a counterexample, but these communities were based on equality of all individuals and were able to maintain that ideal – it seems.  Again, I have never read about them in detail. Their sect came to an end because celibacy was one of the demands of the community. No sex; no children. No children; no one to carry on the tradition.
    The second miscalculation was Marx’s vision of the human condition.  All those who supported the Communist ideal believed that when the oppressed gained power, they would be compassionate, a severe miscalculation.  It assumes that people who were once victims can never become villains, abusers.  Boy, did Marx get that one wrong!  He knew nothing about the humans who, once given the power to design and run the utopian ideal, turned it into a living hell.  So much for utopia. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.  Does anyone know a case where that is not true?
 
 
 

Tuesday, July 2, 2019

    Wow! I forgot to make any notes for Monday. I am relaxing. I’ll make entries when I can.  I will include several days in one entry. Also, I’m getting feedback. “I no longer read the details of your daily routine.” “I skip the details of what you do in Bikram.” “ I look forward to your ‘musings.’”  I respond to feedback.
    Today, Bikram, as usual. I have been working on bending my left knee while walking. I’m trying to get more flexibility in the joints of my left leg, ankle, knee, and hip.
    While I was pulling out of the parking lot at Bikram, Judy called to tell me that Luke had an unusually long seizure and was taken to the hospital.  Luke is about 1 ½  and suffers from a rare genetic mutation called the Fox G1.  There are only 300 people in the world who have been identified as having this problem.  It is one of the most serious disabilities I’m aware of.  The white matter in his brain didn’t develop normally. He will never walk, talk, or even think. While he can see, it is questionable that he can form a concept of what he is seeing.  He does seem to respond to music, mainly Mozart, but so do plants.  He is a lovely, sweet child.
    FoxG1 children suffer from seizures. Luke’s so far have only occurred once or twice a month and lasted for 30 seconds. This one went on for 30 minutes; his parents called the EMTs.  He was rushed to the local hospital.    Even pediatric neurologists are shooting in the dark when it comes to treating these children.  The EMT workers were familiar with seizures and gave Luke something to knock him out to stop it. Arrangements were made to fly him and his mom to Oahu, where there were specialists. Medical emergencies are flown over either in a helicopter or a Cessna.  Mike and I were on a Cessna; Luke and Jazzy were on one too. His father and four-year-old brother flew over that afternoon on a regular commercial flight.  Because the major medical facilities are all on Oahu, being flown over is common.
    The sedative helped Luke with the seizure.  They kept him overnight, but this may be the new normal for Adam and Jazzy.  No one knows what to expect with these children. They do know that there is a limited life expectancy. I know they will be sad when he does die.  Adam and Jazzy are doing an amazing job facing this together, helping each other out.  I can only hope that remembering their behavior with each other and the love they gave Luke while he was with them will comfort them way my five weeks with Mike provides me with comfort.  Of course, Mike was a 78-year-old man, and Luke isn’t even two now.
     I learned the correct spelling of Katrin’s name when she witnessed my signature on the LSW change of beneficiary form. She put in the mailbox and commented that if you want to mail a letter in Switzerland, you have to drop it off in a mailbox or the post office.  Now that’s true here too in most places. I don’t know where she lives in Switzerland, but I would imagine that rural areas have the same drop-off/pick up arrangement we do.
    Kathrin replanted the two plants that Mike bought around Christmas time to decorate the house.  One plant looked bad before she did anything with it. Both look bad now because she forgot to water it after the transplant.
    Katrin and I went down to the bottom of the property to pick some limes she needed. The tree doesn’t have a single large yellow one and has dozens of little green ones. It’s like the tree is starting a whole new crop, except there are no flowers promising additional ones after this batch.
    Katrin also picked the one ripe mango that was accessible.  I was screaming at her not to put her nose up against the stem to smell it.  Mango sap has the same chemical as poison ivy and the same effect on the human body. Kathrin said she’s not allergic. I hope she washed the fruit thoroughly because I am- terribly.
    I went out in the upper backyard and continued ripping out that overgrown vine on the fence.  Very rewarding clearing all that out.  I grabbed hold of a vine, pulled and pulled, and got six feet of foliage ripped out.  Ah!
    I took my shower afterward, did MELT, and read some more of Mike’s book. I am finding it very dull to read. Too pedantic. Too repetitious.  If no publishing house accepts it, I’m going to work on rewriting it.  I’ll have to work with someone who knows the material better than I do, but I think I can do a decent job. Mike said I was a good writer.  This is one of the many ways that I improved because of Mike’s influence.  He made me a better writer.  If I reworked his book, I’d just be rewording what he already wrote.
    Kathrin made me a salad before I had breakfast. Every time she prepares something for me, I can feel Mike being joyful, exuberantly so.  He fought for his life because of me.  He gave up only when he believed I would be okay.  No matter how much he fought, his body no longer had the ammunition to win that fight. But it was sweet of him to try. Talk about self-sacrifice.  He was in agony.  But then it all came together: Damon’s willingness to let him go, mine and finally Mike’s letting me know that he was ready.  When we met with the palliative team, we agreed to wait two weeks after we thought the end was near. I  pulled the plug after one.
    While I had my usual salad, bread, and lemonade for dinner, Kathrin also prepared some food. She made some vegetarian patties that were in the freezer.  Again, I could feel Mike’s joy. I loved the way he cared about me. Even though it was a little bit much at times;  he assumed he always had to protect me.  Anyone who has met me is quite sure I can take care of myself.  While Mike was protective, he never limited me. He also loved my courage and zaniness. I had a mate who not only loved me but liked me as well.  I was so proud of him too.  What a wonderful human being. Perfect? No, but made every effort to be better. That was good enough for me.