Gowanus healer, Heart stealer, Saver of The World

It's a cold rainy day, and I wish to God I was at home, in bed. I went to the h.s. this morning and I was nervous because today was supposed to be the day I ask my group to take turns reading out loud. I'm reluctant to discuss my progress as a future teacher, and my thoughts, because most of them are strange, idealistic, and I imagine people saying, "Oh, she doesn't know what she's talking about because she has no experience." As a teacher, I want to be a sort of Buddhist Socrates... sound impossible? The thing is, I can't be a regular teacher. But if I can pull off my vision, the experience will be so much better than regular. My philosophy is along the lines of what I learned in nar-anon, too, in terms of surrendering control of another person's behavior and decisions. I can't and won't try to force anyone to do anything. I feared my ideas were ineffective during the last tutoring session I ran, during which there was very little focus, but I did not become authoritarian, at all. It just isn't in my nature. Some people might describe me as manipulative, but that's a misunderstanding, for the most part. I would never want anyone to do anything that was wrong or that they wouldn't choose of their own volition. In my group, I told them that from my understanding of the program, they are supposed to motivate and push each other, and help each other study. It is scary to not seize control when they avoid their work. But the moment the teacher seizes control, the students become infantile. If they can and will only do the work when being forced, they won't enjoy it and they won't remember much either. True strength and power only comes from knowledge that we seek on our own. If someone can realize that, at any point, they can get free. Otherwise? Waste of time, this whole schooling business. So this morning, I was happy to note that certain students in the group started taking on the teaching role, and I was able to act as co-learner. I did speak up in order to redirect the group's focus a couple times, but with a sense of humor, and not in a frustrated manner. For instance, the students wanted to look at a magazine catalogue of hoodies and sneakers, rather than study. They were pointing out which hoodies they would buy, so I indicated the one that I preferred, and then noted that they may not be getting the most out of their time in the study group, unless the catalogue were put away for the rest of the session. My plan is to ignore almost everything and permit almost everything (except dangerous behavior). I don't mind gum, soda, swearing, talking, moving around the room, reading other materials, drawing during the lesson.... for the most part. I hope to ask interesting enough questions and form real relationships with the students to the point where they enjoy talking about things with me and as a group, and they feel free to express themselves. This is the difference between being forced to participate in a conversation versus wanting to be involved. And if someone happened to be up all night and unable to participate, that's their decision and their responsibility. The main thing I want to do is encourage self esteem and creativity. I understand that the students have to do well on tests, however, and that if they did poorly, I would be held responsible. But it seems to me that if they were allowed to express themselves more freely, they would do more actual reading and writing, rather than resisting it, and practice in this way would do more for test scores than doing practice tests every day. I'm sure my opinions and methods will change as I get more experience, but I don't think I'll ever want anything more than to give the kiddies the greatest gift with the greatest responsibility, freedom.

The Size of Our Love

Last night I was awakened by Michelle talking to someone through the window. She had been writing in her journal and smoking when Bill walked by. It was Bill. Bill lives in Red Hook and is the main person who was selling dope to her, back in May. I hate this guy! He's a con artist, just like the other men that Michelle has befriended in the neighborhood, and the strange thing is her naive reaction to these types. After Bill left, she was extremely concerned about whether or not she should feel sympathy for him because his mother supposedly died. I said sure, he's a human being, but that doesn't make him a trustworthy person or friend material! This incident naturally reminded me of all the shit we went through during the summer, but I feel confident that she is stable on her methadone dose and will not relapse anytime soon. We were watching Intervention last night too, and I was struck again by the insanity of addiction. It is the very definition of insanity, to know all these facts, everything you have to lose, everything you have lost, and be unable to make the right choice. I really feel for my girl. She's such a generous, wise, kind person. While she's on methadone, she can use her mind to weigh consequences and choose life. If she were not taking it, however, there would be no argument strong enough to stand up to her urge to use. There is no breakthrough she might have in therapy, no set of skills to be gained, no love big enough to win against it. That's just not fair. But hey, life isn't fair. It's possible that someday she will reduce her dose and even stop taking it, but not anytime soon and perhaps she'll need to be on it permanently. I have no problem with that. Some people do, like these girls we met in AA. They were nice, but also narrow minded and judgemental. These two were a couple, and they wouldn't even hang out with us as a couple. Why? It's not proper AA socializing I guess. One girl was Michelle's potential sponsor and one was mine. My friend/potential sponsor was very sweet (and attractive, although I was not personally attracted to her), but she encouraged me to go to more meetings than I was interested in attending, and her girlfriend's stance on methadone turned me off.

I used "my" cane again today. I was very nervous. Using the cane on the subway is one thing-- using it in a high school is another. However, the students did not look at me funny or laugh at me. I had wanted to reschedule but I knew that getting through the morning with my cane might be good for me in terms of building character. I have always been a self-conscious, somewhat vain person. I have wanted to be wearing the right thing, to be cool, which isn't so unusual, but sometimes it's impossible because we may not have been exposed to certain things before. When I first moved to New York, I was out of style in quite a few ways, and this was painful for me because I immediately perceived my shortcomings but didn't have the material resources to make myself over right away. None of my clothes were right, but how could I have known? I was even unsure how to express my gender possibilities, and I wore a lot of lipstick and ugly skirts. And someday I'm going to be old and there will be no bringing sexy back. Some people think the elderly are cute. I have more of a fear of that sort of thing, my body decaying, wrinkling up, the veins showing through and the bones getting weak and breakable. When I look at old people, I feel curious and I want to ask them questions like if they're ready to die or about their faith or what they have learned by living so long. However, when I actually talk to old people, they don't seem any wiser or kinder. My grandma just talks about God and heaven according to her literal, Protestant interpretation of the bible. She's not afraid to die, which is good, but she is comfortable in simplicity, which never worked for me. It seems like it would rude to ask other elderly people if they feel ready to die. But I ask myself the same thing almost every day. Last night Michelle was talking about how she wants security (as in, a job) and I was reminding her that security is an illusion. Anything can happen. As Americans, we like to think we deserve and will probably have a long life of financial success and then retire and sit on the porch. We don't think about all the people who have died since the beginning of time. We don't think, I will definitely die, when and how? Sometimes I feel ready to die. I just think about birds, trees, or the idea of being suspended in the air over the ocean, at the center, with no land around for thousands of miles... the silence there. And I think about how I will join it. And how nothing lasts, including paper and books, electronic media, history... all of it disintegrates over time, or changes beyond recognition. No one will know me, and I don't even know myself from ten years ago. If my childhood self is dead, and it's okay, then it is also okay that I (sfwk on October 7th, 2008) will eventually not exist. I will be transformed into something else. When I look at the span of time like that, I am okay with letting this moment go and letting myself go.

moving slowly in a fast city

This weekend Michelle's mother let me borrow her cane. So I used it while returning to Brooklyn with Michelle and again, on the way to work, this morning. At first I felt quite embarassed. I'm a young lady, and I look funny walking with a cane. It helps though. I can move a little faster. On the F train, a middle aged white lady gave me her seat. Then the F train was re-routed over the G line, and I had to catch the A at Hoyt Schimmerhorn, which was, naturally, packed. I had to train-surf with nothing to hold onto. Before we pulled out of the station, a man was bumping into me and I said to him, "Excuse me. I need a little room because I have a cane." He apologized and moved over a bit. Nobody could see my cane at first because the car was so full, but once it emptied out and people did see, no one offered me their seat. But everyone is aware of my cane. Besides when the car was too crowded, my neighbors on the train and sidewalk have been using that New York skill on me, the glance that takes in everything.

This is all, of course, because of the acupunture I had last week that turned the scar tissue, on my foot, black and blue. I'm going back for more on Thursday. I should see the podiatrist too, but it's expensive and I can't take any more time off work. Plus it's difficult to get across town when I have to walk with the cane. However, it makes me feel vulnerable, to know that I can't run, in the event I needed to run from something or someone.

On the train this morning there was an extremely tall young man who must have had the disorder where people grow beyond a height that is healthy. They have specials about real dwarves (little people) and giants on TV... I think he was a giant. I noticed that he was interested in the way I could train train-surf with my cane, and when a seat opened up next to me, he took it. I think he would have liked to be friends. Alas, we follow the New York rules and don't bother each other by striking up conversation. This is the city where freaks get to relax if they so desire. I'm not trying to call the giant a freak or myself one for using a cane, I'm just noting that people are tolerant here. They may not accept, but they tolerate any type of person. They don't stare or harrass each other, for the most part... except in the case of hate crimes. (Doesn't all crime involve hate against someone?) The point is, here is a place where people of all nationalities, religions, homeless or headed to the office (or construction site), men and women, handicapped or selling candy, preaching or playing a homemade instrument, drunk or high, listening to headphones, reading a Black, porn/romance novel, The Torah, or the newspaper, everyone is basically willing to sit or stand closely together on the train, quietly observing everything while appearing detached or asleep.

Proud Auntie of Asher Justice

surround the dragon

I had to edit the ending of that last entry, deleting the parts where I started fantasizing and bragging. I wish the moments that I experience a feeling akin to self-confidence didn't always sway into a world of make believe and defense mechanism. Oh well!

On Rosh Hoshana, Michelle and I went to the Brooklyn Acupuncture Project again- I have had three sessions there and Michelle went twice. It's only a few short blocks away from our apartment! The ladies who run it are great and they only charge on a sliding scale. Robin lets Michelle pay only 10 dollars bc I told her Michelle is unemployed right now! I pay 25. This last time we went, Robin did a technique she called "surround the dragon" on my foot. That means she put four needles in around the scar tissue on the arch of my foot... it was very sensitive, to say the least. I jerked my foot away twice and she had to remind me to breathe. Once they were all in, however, it felt neat. Michelle gets them in her ears. I also get them in the wrists and hands. I like when the feeling is strong and they screw the needle in deeper. In any case, this surround the dragon really did some shit to my foot! Yikes, today it hurts more than ever. I barely was able to hobble into the office. Yesterday, it hurt when I woke up, then later in the day it felt better than it has felt in years! But in the evening, I noticed bruising and spots of bleeding under the scar tissue. I put the Chinese medicine on it that Robin gave me. She said to get more. It feels weird... like tingling... and this morning I also rubbed Castor Oil into it.

I wish my wife wasn't unemployed during this economic crisis everyone is talking about. I've been thinking a lot about jobs... how everything depends on whether you can get one. I am trying to imagine a world that would take care of people but yet they have to find their own path at the same time. Pain and fear are always the problem... how do you grow without experiencing them? But of course we try to avoid those feelings at all costs. Are they necessary?