I should be doing some laundry. I have run out of socks... And anyways, I want to tame this beast of not doing my laundry.
I gather a load's worth of stuff, carry it to the washing machine... and the distaste, the disgust is so strong... I take a beeline... and sit down by my computer.
Distaste, eh? Yeah, says muscle test. Disgust? yes. Was it always there? No. Was it from when i was 3? later... from age seven.
What was happening at age seven? I went to school. We had a live-in help: my mother was working on her Masters Degree, coming home around nine every night. My brother was about a year old... and was probably driving the live-in help bonkers.
And I recoil from dirty laundry...
I sit really quietly. The fear joins the distaste. I feel terror. I feel being beaten. Screamed at. Wrapped in wet sheets... Can't breathe...
I must have wet my bed. I don't remember. My body remembers. The fear, the disgust, the gagging.
One of the reasons you don't grow, is because the nature of time is that it goes one way. Forward. It doesn't stop, it doesn't go backwards, and mistakes are mistakes made.
But we, humans, are equipped with a brain that is able to model, replay, and practice, to turn mistakes into learning. Through repetition, or through thought experiments. But either way: being awake... And that is the first thing that's missing... being awake.
Why am I such a Nazi when it comes to who I am willing to work with?
Remember the soup Nazi? Who ran his soup takeout shop like a prison camp? And people lined up and waited patiently to be given soup... that was so good, and so hard to come by, they were willing to earn it... I want to be like the soup Nazi.
Actually, I continued to participate after the incident I'll tell you about... but NEVER intended to contribute any more. Or not really. I was participating from hurt... knowing that what was broken cannot be fixed.
18 years ago, as I was coaching someone, it because clear to me that there are this core invisibles, that are underneath every issue, every distinction, every weird, unethical, unsavory action a human being makes.
Even though the distinction that there is a broadcast going on that everyone hears and everyone tunes into some of it, part of it, the part that feels relevant to what is going on for them.
I remember, it was 1991, and I drove home after the session, and heard the broadcast that sounded like very radio station playing on the same wave length... and yet I could pick out the part that was hand in glove match to what was going on in my life... I was in love with a married man at the time... and everything relevant to that was playing for me. Continue reading "Why I stopped participating in Landmark Education?"