TheBanyanTree: every last drop

[Pam James]

Thank you for climbing up into my head and collecting all those words
jossling around, organizing them in sentences, and writing them here for
me!  You said so eloquently what I didn't even realize I was thinking.
Monique is extremely intelligent - and so talented with her words!

On Tue, Feb 23, 2021 at 5:27 PM <tobie at shpilchas.net> wrote:

> Monique my dear,
>
>
> Your husband is wrong.  Well, he’s wrong about this person being pushed
> away.
>
>         I would dispute your characterization that you’re not so smart.
> All anyone has to do is read a sentence of yours and it’s obvious that your
> intelligence is the kind that doesn’t get measured in a linear fashion.
> That whole idea, The Stanford Binet I.Q. test, is a blot on people’s
> lives.  Intelligence is not linear.  And yours, my dear, is all over the
> place. Your intelligence can seep into crevices and rise up walls. It can
> loosen heads that were screwed on too tight and open hearts that were shut
> long ago when the whole heart forest petrified.
>
>         As for sensitive. From what you describe, it’s clear that like
> most things, sensitivity is relative.  And your relatives come in a variety
> of flavors, colors, depths and shapes don’t they.
>
>         I would not base my judgment of sensitivity on someone who wants
> you to laugh about your childhood sexual abuse.  I know.  More people know
> than one would ever imagine.
>
>         Life is what it is, yes.  We are set down here, spun off the
> double helix as it rotated swiftly following the mitosis dance.  A jumble
> of chromosomes, built in characteristics and then comes the soft wiring.
> Which can save or damn you, both.  My best friend in the world grew up with
> a paranoid schizophrenic mother. She was always being farmed out to friends
> or relatives who would take her when her mom was in the hospital. They were
> poor. When we walked home from school (I’ve known her that long) she’d have
> to go in and see if her mom was all right. She might be. She might not be.
> There was no stability. She had a step father of sorts who saw her as a
> divisive influence and blamed her for her mother’s mental issues.  My
> friend grew up smelling like a rose, kind and generous, wise and silly and
> plays the violin like an angel.  I know other people who had no trouble at
> all. Came from stable families who were supportive, no grand dysfunction.
> And they grew up twisted, mean and vengeful, broken.
>
>         This sensitivity thing is systemic.  I’ve heard and read about how
> people on the autistic spectrum don’t pick up social cues, don’t have
> interest in others, can’t form attachments, and are generally insensitive
> socially.  I’m not going begging to differ. They are fracking wrong. I
> think it’s the opposite. I’ve watched Meyshe grow up and his sensitivity is
> pervasive. He cannot compartmentalize like the rest of the world seems to
> do so easily. He can’t know that there is suffering near or far and still
> say, "Well, yes I know there is suffering, but right now, I really do have
> to eat lunch." He feels everything so deeply that it’s too much.  With that
> kind of sensitivity, the only defense sometimes is shutting down
> completely. I’ve seen him do it.
>
>         I’m interested in Russ’s little "observation thing".  We all have
> our own take on our too much of something. And I’d like to read his (I’m
> actually talking to you now, Russ).
>
>         And ………….. you could always be a carrot.
>
>
> Love,
>
>
> Tobie
>
> > On Feb 23, 2021, at 1:39 PM, Monique Colve <monique.colver at gmail.com>
> wrote:
> >
> > Ignore me. My husband says I'm pushing people away, which is what I do.
> >
> > Monique
> > Sent from my iPad
> >
> >> On Feb 23, 2021, at 12:24 PM, Monique Colve <monique.colver at gmail.com>
> wrote:
> >>
> >> Well, I am not all that smart, but I am too sensitive. I do not come
> from brilliant stock, nor do we pride ourselves on our stunning intellect,
> though maybe my brothers do. I don't know because they're so smart they
> won't even speak to me. I have a half sister who doesn't think I'm
> sensitive enough, and another half who thinks Qanon has a point. A
> stepsister who thinks I'm too sensitive because I don't get a big laugh
> about my childhood sexual abuse. She can get a big laugh out of it, so why
> can't I?
> >>
> >> I am sensitive because I trust no one and prior experience has taught
> me that I'm being set up. For what, I don't know. None of this has to do
> with intelligence. It has to do with experience and a touch of mental
> illness, and that I do have. I feel for everyone but I can hear about
> everyone's tragedies without becoming so immersed I fall apart. I read a
> lot and the world is full of tragedy but I also find a lot that makes me
> happy. Life is what it is, right?
> >>
> >> I have no one to talk to about these things. I will talk here, but
> that's usually met with silence. I can stop a conversation like no one
> else.
> >>
> >> Since I've been writing this, my iPad has informed me six times that
> Tiger Woods has been extracted using the jaws of life and has leg injuries.
> Are we supposed to care that much? To me he's just a person, just as
> important as people dying from Covid, or people freezing to death in their
> own homes, and no doubt with medical insurance.
> >>
> >> Back to work. I have to go see my dermatologist too, which will be all
> the excitement I can handle.
> >>
> >>
> >>
> >>
> >> Monique
> >> Sent from my iPad
> >>
> >>> On Feb 23, 2021, at 11:31 AM, Russ Doden <russ.doden at gmail.com> wrote:
> >>>
> >>> This thread has been of great interest to me.  I'm one of those
> "sensitive"
> >>> people.  It's a pain in the neck about 2 feet lower.  I talk to a lot
> of
> >>> people at the metaphysical bookstore where I work that are also on this
> >>> spectrum someplace.  I started calling us "Intuitive Empaths" and
> helping
> >>> people understand why we perceive things differently.  I didn't have
> any
> >>> reference materials, so I started writing a short 4 page thing I could
> hand
> >>> to people, the first two pages were just general information and the
> last
> >>> two were a lot of characteristics! I have since found a short 1 hour
> and 3
> >>> minute film on Amazon Prime called Sensitive - the untold story.  It is
> >>> based on a book The Highly Sensitive Person - The Untold Story by
> Elaine
> >>> Aron PhD.  Wow, it validated everything I've been telling people and
> then
> >>> some.  So Tobie, thank you for starting this thread and sharing it
> because
> >>> while I've been dealing with being sensitive all my life, I'm always
> >>> learning more.  If you'd like Tobie (or anyone else), I'll gladly send
> you
> >>> my little observation thing I put together to help people I talk to
> here.
> >>>
> >>> Peace,
> >>> Russ
> >>>
> >>>>> On Tue, Feb 23, 2021 at 12:08 PM <tobie at shpilchas.net> wrote:
> >>>> oh yes the burden of being too sensitive and too intelligent and too
> >>>> talented.  The top of the bell curve like those people as much as
> they like
> >>>> idiots, clods, the "ugly", the "off" and the slightly different.
> >>>>     My mom used to tell me a story about her own trials with too smart
> >>>> and too sensitive. She went to her aunt (the one she worshipped, the
> one
> >>>> who sailed to China and lived there for 9 years, the one who mentored
> her
> >>>> and awakened her to feminism (yes in the 1930s) and worldly concerns)
> My
> >>>> mom complained, "What’s the use of being smart and sensitive? When
> you see
> >>>> things and they hurt you, it just makes life harder."  And Aunt Anne
> said
> >>>> to her:
> >>>>     Well, you could always be a carrot.
> >>>>     I heard about that interchange frequently and it was nice to know
> >>>> that wisdom often comes with humor. The lesson goes deeper.
> >>>> I’ve read all your words and love that you’re out there being who you
> are
> >>>> and that you heard me ……… what did I do?  squawk? yelp? yip? moan?
> >>>> Thank you
> >>>> Really so much,
> >>>> Tobie
> >>>>>> On Feb 22, 2021, at 3:04 PM, LL DeMerle <twigllet at gmail.com> wrote:
> >>>>> There have been many conversations with my own "too" sensitive son,
> who
> >>>> came from a "too" sensitive mom. At some point, middle school, I
> think, he
> >>>> was talking about what a burden it was to be sensitive. I said, Yes,
> of
> >>>> course, until you learn how to manage it and close the world out, like
> >>>> putting up automatic windows in a car, but it actually is a gift if
> you
> >>>> tweak the lens. The other thing is that life is not all about loss.
> Yes,
> >>>> some of us feel things deeply, much more so than others, it's true.
> The
> >>>> trick is to learn to sidestep the steamroller before it flattens us.
> >>>>> There is so much to fret about and I hate how it perverts my mind,
> so I
> >>>> don't read much news. I browse headlines and pick interesting things
> to
> >>>> read. I guess what I am saying is that Meyshe needs to learn, as you
> know,
> >>>> or take responsibility? If that's possible? As to what he allows to
> >>>> ricochet off of the walls of his cranium or he sure will be
> depressed, a
> >>>> lot. It's unavoidable.
> >>>>> Sending love and mojo and stuff to help a plan flutter down.
> >>>>> Love,
> >>>>> Linda
> >>>>> It’s Friday (again!), February 19, 2021
> >>>>> So hello folks,
> >>>>>   I wrote this last Monday and have been mulling over it ever since.
> >>>> It may speak more to me than it does to you since, thank God for you,
> >>>> you’ve never seen the Brodofsky gene in action. The thing skipped a
> >>>> generation with me so I worry like the rest of you, hurting,
> suppressed
> >>>> adrenalin until relief comes in the form of closure, information or
> >>>> forgiveness. My mother who is resting her soul had the worry gene and
> >>>> sensitivity that was never honored in her family.  I know the
> sensitivity
> >>>> thing. And I used to believe them when sensitive was always pronounced
> >>>> along  with its inseparable modifier, "too". "You’re too sensitive."
> >>>> That’s advice from those who think they are wise when they tell you to
> >>>> toughen up.  Can everyone do that? Toughen up?  But what does it do
> to your
> >>>> soul?
> >>>>>   I wonder about Meyshe. Is it the genetic inheritance or is it
> >>>> autism or some combination, or is it the circumstances of his life
> made so
> >>>> much more difficult by being a pariah through no fault of his own and
> then
> >>>> there’s this pandemic which has bloomed and loomed then twisted us,
> stuck
> >>>> in here to grieve after my mom died in October, not able to go out
> and see
> >>>> a world that still exists in spite of our indoor cloistered implosion.
> >>>>>   We were sitting at the kitchen table with our cups of tea —
> >>>> Meyshe’s plain, mine always with honey. I’d called Meyshe out of his
> >>>> sanctum sanctorum where he’d been meditating, or what his version of
> >>>> meditation is, which frequently amounts to a two hour nap. He had the
> sleep
> >>>> aid sound generator on to, "babbling brook," and perhaps he’d added
> frogs,
> >>>> crickets, song birds.  It took a while to rouse him, but I wasn’t
> feeling
> >>>> guilty about interrupting him. He’d gotten up at 10:00 a.m. long
> enough to
> >>>> say Kaddish with me — which required him to put clothes on and try
> not to
> >>>> scratch his belly during the prayer. After the last, "Amen," he’d
> turned
> >>>> round and went directly back into his room, fired up the babbling
> brook
> >>>> again.
> >>>>>   It was well past 1:00 P when I called him. It was Presidents’ Day
> >>>> so there was no Zooming Art class at 1:00 and though I knew that
> eventually
> >>>> he would get up, if only to go to the kitchen and have lunch,
> (Example of
> >>>> typical Meyshe lunch: one carrot, washed not peeled, one large apple
> or
> >>>> pear, ten minutes at the roasted salted peanuts in the shell trough —
> OR:
> >>>> enormous pile of cold leftover rice, pasta and/or vegetables straight
> from
> >>>> the refrigerator storage container upended on a plate and inadequately
> >>>> heated in the microwave — not unheard of to be scarfed cold.)   I
> knew he
> >>>> wouldn’t sleep all day, but too close for me to refrain from
> analysis, and
> >>>> then concern.  Yes, we’re in the endless middle of a pandemic that we
> are
> >>>> told is expanding, much like the universe — as in: we know because we
> are
> >>>> informed of its expansion but we cannot see or feel it since in the
> case of
> >>>> the universe, we are bound by gravity to the earth spinning sweetly
> round
> >>>> and round our sun which is a tiny dot among trillions floating or
> rushing
> >>>> or shuddering or pin balling in vast space and we insignificant life
> forms
> >>>> swarming, gravity bound, on our bouncing baby ball, can only, but just
> >>>> barely, fathom an expanding universe on a strictly cognitive level as
> >>>> proofs in fields full of equations, but we certainly can't know of
> this
> >>>> expansion with any sensory validation.  And in the case of the endless
> >>>> expanding pandemic, we are bound by government order, by even a
> rudimentary
> >>>> grasp of epidemiological principles and by a respectable gob of fear
> to
> >>>> shelter in place, so the world outside this house is almost an
> abstraction.
> >>>>>   Since my mother’s passing in October we have watched no
> >>>> television, let the subscription to the (snickerable) Chronicle lapse
> and
> >>>> have thus successfully removed ourselves from the nauseous tides of
> too
> >>>> much information, so we’ve been existing in our shielded state of too
> >>>> little information which has proven for our peace of mind alone to be
> the
> >>>> just right state of no information at all. Given our entrenched
> isolation,
> >>>> the absence of newly minted outside stimuli, I can understand why
> Meyshe
> >>>> might resort to applied unconsciousness via sleep, oversleep,
> meditation,
> >>>> "meditation" in quotes, whatever vehicle can carry him off, carry him
> away
> >>>> to suspended animation, neither sensory overload nor sensory
> deprivation.
> >>>> But though I can understand it, even (and unfortunately) sympathize
> with
> >>>> the allure of large time consuming splashes of anesthetized living
> (great
> >>>> advertisement for an assisted living facility!), it looks like, it
> feels
> >>>> like, it carries itself like clinical depression. I am too familiar
> with
> >>>> depression having moved in together with it after a romantic
> courtship back
> >>>> when romance like that mattered so much to me. Now I’m Mom, and though
> >>>> Meyshe’s 33, not a kid anymore, he’s not like the neuro normals, so
> I’m his
> >>>> guide, his mentor, his best friend and confidant, his resident wise
> woman
> >>>> and the first hit from a search for, "Personal Jewish shaman near me".
> >>>>>   We sat at the kitchen table with our cups of tea and we played a
> >>>> game of Rutabaga, then an ex tempora story telling game using the
> deck of
> >>>> cards:
> >>>>> Five of Spades, my turn:  There was a family of five.
> >>>>> Two of Hearts: His turn: And then twins were born.
> >>>>> Nine of Diamonds, my turn: They lived in the ninth district of the
> >>>> county.
> >>>>> King of Clubs, his turn: The King ruled over their land.
> >>>>> King of Diamonds, my turn The King in a neighboring country had a
> long
> >>>> standing dispute with the other King over territory …..
> >>>>>   You see how it worked.
> >>>>>   I was putting away the cards and Meyshe said, "I hope I don’t have
> >>>> to live through World War III"
> >>>>>   Last night, the day before that and earlier in the day, Meyshe had
> >>>> repeated several times, numerous times, that the last four years of
> Trump
> >>>> were damaging to his psyche.  He said that in a variety of contexts
> and
> >>>> wordings. Also, the terrible loathsome, Republican enablers and will
> they
> >>>> prevent anything good from happening, and he hopes all the ice caps
> will
> >>>> not melt in his lifetime. And he commented also on how corrosive his
> hatred
> >>>> of the rich is, and, and, and.  I’d spoken with Meyshe last night
> about how
> >>>> my mother recalled and repeated stories about how this person had
> slighted
> >>>> her, how that "friend" had betrayed her: Sarah Hesse sneered about
> her "fat
> >>>> little polkees" (legs), and Ruth, her sister-in-law, had organized an
> >>>> evening of bridge playing,  paired everyone up in fours, sat them at
> card
> >>>> tables, provided snacks and coffee, decks of cards. Four at a table,
> tables
> >>>> all over the living room, spilling out into the dining room which
> she’d
> >>>> cleared of furniture. However, she seated my mother alone on a couch,
> the
> >>>> only person not paired up at a card table, and said to her, "I knew
> you
> >>>> didn’t like card games."  That story, and the story about her, "best
> >>>> enemy," who’d been invited to dinner with her husband and after my
> mother
> >>>> had demonstrated some proficiency in something — who knows? I can’t
> recall:
> >>>> cooking a lovely dinner? Solving some stubborn problem, whatever
> excellence
> >>>> she’d exhibited — her "worst friend" commented, "Oh. So you are good
> for
> >>>> something."  I heard each of these stories and dozens of similar ones
> >>>> scores of times. And each time she told me one of these stories it was
> >>>> evident that she’d exhumed the ancient incident and opened the wound
> >>>> afresh. She was re experiencing each slight, each humiliation, each
> >>>> infliction of psychic pain as if it had just happened. The stories
> were
> >>>> obsessions that she never let go of. I told that to Meyshe
> illustrating how
> >>>> we can keep pain, worry, anger, regret, hatefulness, shame alive
> forever if
> >>>> we choose, and I didn’t want him to do that. Sure, the Trump years are
> >>>> fresh, awful, but they are over now and we have a new president. At
> some
> >>>> point those four harrowing detestable years really can fade and be
> put to
> >>>> rest. At that point he won’t be able to call them back up to renew and
> >>>> reenergize its pain, negativity, worry, unhappiness. Please. Don’t
> let it
> >>>> keep you from living a full, loving and productive life.
> >>>>>   So today, when Meyshe suddenly called up World War III and how he
> >>>> hoped it wouldn’t happen in his life time, I broke down — from
> isolation,
> >>>> pressure, circumstantial worries of course, but primarily for my son.
> What
> >>>> can I, what must I, do to help him love life not resurrect old pain,
> stir
> >>>> it up as fresh poison. I broke down and cried, sobbing across from
> him at
> >>>> the table. If that moment with the third world war’s seductive trauma
> were
> >>>> to paint a portrait of his life, what kind of a life can that be?
> He’d done
> >>>> nothing to me but of course he took it on as something he’d caused.
> As I
> >>>> was writing this, Meyshe came into the room, turned on the bright
> light and
> >>>> wrote in his own journal. He told me before he left the room that
> he’d been
> >>>> writing about my sobbing at the kitchen table.  Have I given him yet
> >>>> another tale of woe he can revive endlessly, expanding like the
> pandemic,
> >>>> like the universe?
> >>>>> Love,
> >>>>> it is that,
> >>>>> Tobie
> >>>>> "Pica: a bad cook’s dream guest" THS, 2021
> >>>>> Tobie Helene Shapiro
> >>>>> tobie at shpilchas.net
> >>>>> Want to change your name, email address, or password? Or have you
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> >>>>> Want to change your name, email address, or password? Or have you
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> >>>> Variety is the spice of life.  Lack of variety is the spouse of
> life.   THS
> >>>> Tobie Shapiro
> >>>> mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net <mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net>
> >>>> Want to change your name, email address, or password? Or have you
> >>>> forgotten your password? Go here:
> >>>> http://lists.remsset.com/listinfo.cgi/thebanyantree-remsset.com
> >>>
> >>>
> >>>
> >>> --
> >>> Enjoy Life By Living In Joy
> >>>
> >>> Well Being Consultant
> >>> www.rldwbc.com
> >>>
> >>>
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> >
> >
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>
>
> "Leave alone de hoss!"
> Great Grandpa Goodman Brodofsky (c. 1905)
> "Leave alone de hoss, Pop!"
> Great Uncle Max Brodofsky (c 1932)
>
>
>
>
>
> Tobie Shapiro
> mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net <mailto:tobie at shpilchas.net>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
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