What a job, eh? Dreaming up new ways to make babies cry, making lots of babies cry to prove it works, and then writing about it?
The mother interacts, and the baby learns. Then the mother stops interacting, just giving a blank stare. The baby tries everything to get the mother to respond, and within a minute is crying helplessly.
Well, I don’t know about all of you-
both of you?
but possibly that is what I am doing here. All those facebook likes and comments make me feel happy, and when page-views and comments here go up then I feel happier: which is fine until they go down. I got the video from Monkeytraps, and while I can see that a husband withdrawing communication would upset a wife, it bothers me that I might feel the same way towards a screen. Before thinking this, I found the baby video extremely disturbing, even though I realised that this is a useful lesson about babies, and people generally.
I threw my wobbly on Saturday, then felt a bit fragile on Sunday. E drove me to —- for Area Meeting. How are you? I feel fragile, and I want to say why, then I want to go over diverse causes for my wobbly because I feel the need to justify to my inner critic just why I felt that bad. Um, no- focus on the positive. I am not sure about AM. I don’t trust the process, and I don’t trust the people, after it went so spectacularly wrong in September that here, where I let it all hang out, I haven’t written about it. So Ian’s reading for AM was what I needed: QFP 26:39. True faith is not assurance, but the readiness to go forward experimentally, without assurance. It is a sensitivity to things not yet known.
Ruth asked me, How are you? How’s the job search going? It’s been nearly three years, hasn’t it? Shouldn’t you be signing on at the jobcentre? When I say that I told them what my psychiatrist and endocrinologist were doing, and they let me not, she said, mockingly, “So you’re a full time clerk?” Later, she challenged me about writing parts of the minutes in bold type, and I am unsure what she sees wrong in what I am doing. Gillian told me how well I was clerking, and I said I know that, and- it is good to hear it from another. And- clerking a light meeting, 1½ hours, tired me.
Getting out of the car in —- (this post is not chronological, but all over the place) I noticed the fading and stained wood and plaster decoration at the tops of the terraced houses, and thought how beautiful it was; and then I was Present and sensitised, looking at the gloriously green moss on the porch tiles, damaging the house yet beautiful. It seemed that to be this sensitive is to be fully alive, and I could not be so without the downers, like the day before.
Oh, and I found this picture on facebook. It makes sense, actually.