In Bed With an Omelette and Coffee

The plan was to paint during the sunset today, the full moon in Leo but instead I sat on the couch and began teaching my 7 year old neighbor to read. He is having a hard time. I was impatient at the end. He had no ability, very little ability to retain the words he figured out. I felt like my mother. I was teaching to read like my mother taught me. "Sound it out. What sound does that letter make".

English is hogwash, there are no hard and fast rules making it tough to teach a beginner. He did sweat his way through two paragraphs. It took us probably close to an hour. We were both exhausted by the end of it. I am eager to see next time if he retained the bit he learned. I gave him the book to take home to show her what he learned.

I took him to the library the other day. We walked which was pretty far for the little guy. By the time we were almost home he was dragging his feet and out of energy.

On the way there we went under the bridge on Jane and St Clair to the library on the corner of Jane and Dundas. Earlier that day he came out with me when I went to feed the birds. I whistled to the birds as I sometimes do. I whistle and in my head and heart I am telling them all about myself and my lie, how I am feeling, what I am afraid of, who made me mad, how happy I am and whatever I feel, I whistle it to the birds.

Caplan had a hard time whistling but he did a bit. On the way to the library we took the back alley ways and played a game where we took turns whistling and tried to guess what the other person was feeling. Sad, mad, scared, happy were the ones we started with. We had a great time and Caplan ended up adding giggling to our repertoire.

Once we got under the bridge I told him to yell as loud as he could. I yelled and scared him, oops sorry. "Okay your turn yell really loud, no one can hear you, they all have theri windows closed and it is so loud in here."

I watched him open his mouth and nothing. It was like he was stuck. It was like those dreams when you need to yell and you cant. He could not yell.

I growled and encouraged him to do the same. He did and in no time I had him yelling pretty loud. "Now add stomping" We stomped and yelled and then laughed and I felt better and I was sure he did too.

We got him some easy reading books and a couple of a bit harder that I plan to read to him. We got some learn to draw books and some dvd's. One of them he chose was a learn to draw dvd.

By the time we got back here he was exhausted. I made him some hot chocolate and he watched a video. He got bored of that and watched the drawing video. He watched another video and then watched the drawing video and followed along. He was deep into it. He was at my house from 2pm until I finally sent him home at 10pm. I was making soup stock and a couple of turkey drumsticks. I made him carrot sticks with pink salt, then some french fries made with organic potatoes, coconut oil s&p baked in the oven. When the turkey was done I gave him a bit of that.

Today he was here at 1 and left around 7. I finally painted the moon lit scene and worked on aother one and then went for a brisk walk for an hour and a half to clear out cobwebs and hopefully realign my body and stuff, help me get some balance.

Earlier to day I watched a part of a video I came across online. It is a short bald black man wearing a black tunic-like dress to the ground in black with inverted pleats that have red and black embroidery between teh pleats. It almost looked like Buffalo plaid, which would have been a cool look.

He was a pastor in a church. he had his palms out to his congregation saying "I want to pray for someone today. Here we are in front of God and I want to pray for someone today. Who is hurting..."

A tall woman--or he is simply super short--came up. She was very emotional and could barely speak. Her shame was holding her back. The feeling of being in front of God was overwhelming her. The pastor asked her what her problems were and she sputtered that her husband was going to leave her, he told her he was and she was not going to let him go.

The pastor asked her if her husband would talk to her?" No.  She was blubbering and losing it. The pastor kept telling her, "I want to talk to you a bit..." but she kept crying and losing it, starting to wail.

The pastor folded his arms and rolled his eyes. He hated the "scent" she was causing. The nature of the psot was "No wonder her husband wants to leave her".

As I walked I thought how wrong this was. Think about it, the woman is in front of God. That is what the pastor said. That is what you intend when you go to church. She was about to recieve God's love and blessing and all the feelings of anguish and rejection, neglect she felt from her husband were triggered and she was having an emotional break down. This man would have been a far better man had he told her, "That is fine, let it out. Maybe go sit over there where we can go on with the sermon, until to let it out. Maybe Ms Mable will come and hold you while you cry it out and when you are ready then we will pray for you, take your time, you are obviously very upset and we want you to feel it is okay to let it out."

Instead he made her wrong. He needs to be in control. That is why he is upset. He wanted to do some show, his show of praying for someone and he couldnt get a word in edgewise so the focus was no longer on him and he didnt liek that. like a bossy mean short kid, he got violent. Not physically but got enraged that she wouldnt "listen to him".

We need to stop judging emotionality as something wrong. We need to make room for it.

When I got home I thought about how much dementia seems to hitting our society. I projected 10 years when my generation is of an age where full blown dementia has so many numbers there were not enough people to care for them. I sensed a kind of lawlessness, too many people suffering and not enough aid to deal with it. My hope is that with sustainable diet, which sustains our bodies, hearts and minds we will move away from all the deadly medications given to sick folks.

My mother has been on a Tylenol 3 diet for ages. She loves them. They seem to be the only thing that helps her sleep through the night from her chronic itching. Her new doctor is a woman and she does not want my mother taking them all the time. My mother wants them and feels she is living proof that it is okay to take them. They give her relief. "She probably doesnt want you to take them because they are hard on your body" I said on the phone with her earlier today.

"That is what she said" referring to her new doctor. The doctor gave her a prescription of 30 of htem and told her to try not to take them. I wish my mother rest. I wish it for us all.

I bought a coffee on the way home from my walk. It is a full moon. I usually do not sleep on a full moon so I decided not to fight it. I treated myself to a coffee. I thought I might continue to paint but decided to get into bed with an omelette and my coffee and write here. Maybe do some knitting. Watch a youtube. I have been watching/listening to meditation ones. On Financial Abundance mostly. This one linked here I "met" the founder of that process on pof.

I wrote a good friend about how hard things are right now financially and she told me that "Most everyone needs help at some point, so please don't hold back because you are ashamed or something." It was good to hear that. I felt less like a pariah.

Tomorrow I will put some images here.