Thursday, January 10, 2013

Day 356 - Healings - Reading Planned Jobs on Black Out Days

Thursday, January 10, 2013
Day 356 - How am I Living and Filling

Today electricity went out from as early as 9am. It was the stop of the fan that aroused me from slumber. I slowly set about the day. Mindful to keep my temperature down with no cooling system. My AC already out for weeks now, lucky and blessed for me the neighbor whose yard my wall of windows adjoin is away so I am not poisoned by his dinosaur american exhausts perfumes . And December, as usual, is usually cooler for rain and northern breezes, so i have been saved and abridged.

I thought and wondered whether to go out in search of cooler climes, interconnectivity, but i said no, this is an opportunity to read and make it through some books on my table. I made good way through Beware of Pity, a European classic soon to finish. I cut the remainder in half. I also read yesterday's paper, which i wonder if i would have had the cable been on as any other ordinary day. There were two great jobs listed in there; both I qualify for and can do: One is to be a CEO of Synergy Resources Ltd, a solar and green energy resources and services company in South.
 http://synergyresourcesltd.com/index.html  And the other, Executive Director of PSI/C - Population Services International/Caribbean  http://www.psi.org/caribbean

Interestingly enough, this day, with no electricity i thought of how this country wastes grand opportunities and how banal and incredulously amazing that we do without electricity here at the equator under the sun. We should have solar systems as immediate back up during blackouts. Of course that is with the understanding that the sun and wind and ocean waves should be providing us , this little speck of an island with all our energy needs.  And here it is, to discover a solar energy company vacancy. All the ideas I thought today will be part of my application package.

Having listed my plans of jobs to apply for; plans to write my new found HR HeadHunter, I hope, to see if she would apply on my behalf; that would surely be more powerful than on my own; I rested, laid down and just when i got into a good sleep, my mother comes to disturb me to tell me the announcement of no electricity was in the papers o.0. About an hour later it restored. And I have yet to turn the tv or music on. When it came on, I reveled in the fan, and just flipped over with my book. But the  idea of not being on media or mail all day pulled me to the computer.

I plan to be in the same place for the rest of the evening.

 But i almost forgot the high emotional intelligence of the day...while lying down, at one point my Mom came to tell me that she was across the road...and i had this revelation...but cant now remember the language. I said my Marjorie was my Healing Stone or some sort. She as received and absorbed so much stuff from me, that has released me allowing me to be free to reformulate, to change, to renew...I shall never yell at her again: i shall never raise my voice in conflict again. Was the thought , prayer and resolved. then I rolled to my side and thought. My mother Marina did not birth canal me for her, but for Marjorie.. She is my real Mother...and a long heavy tear rolled down my cheek...but somehow in there were the other people who too loved me: Maria Baptiste, Lilla Gordon and Ruth Huggins. I was born to a nest of women . I am now remaining with Marjorie Baptiste







 


JEFF BROWN
Our survival adaptations are so tough, but our wounds are so delicate. To heal, we have to lift the armour carefully- it saved our lives, after all. It’s like moving your best friend off to the side of the path. You don’t trample on her, you don’t hit him with a sledgehammer. You honor her presence like a warm blanket that has kept you safe and sound during wintry times. And then, when the moment is right, you get inside and stitch your wounds with the thread of love, slowly and surely, not rushing to completion, nurturing as you weave, tender and true. The healing process has a heart of its own, moving at its own delicate pace. We are such wondrous weavers..

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