I have always had problems going to sleep. When I do get there I like to stay asleep. The older I get the more I have to get up in the middle of the night to go urinate. Then sometimes when I get back to bed the insomnia hits me again.
I think about the stupid things I have done in my life and the things I am ashamed of having done. This morning while I was sitting Zazen (see other older blog, I forget the date, just read my blog or look it up on line) I decided that I was going to make a journal. Every bad thing in my life I was going to write into that journal. And when I get to the point that I can't remember anything else to write, I am going to bury that journal in my garden. No, maybe I should burn it. First I am going to jump up and down on it, and then I'll decided what to do about it.
Really, I should not allow it to remain intact. It should perish. Maybe I will research how to best destroy all the negative consequences in your life. There is probably something on line.
I began the journal this morning. I wrote about when I was a child of perhaps nine or ten years of age, I pushed my little neighbor, Billy L., down in the road for calling me a "sissy". I was such a tomboy and that was the worst insult I could imagine. They had just farmer paved our street and so it was sticky and gooey with tar and little bitty gravels and cinders. I remember his knees were soiled and battered. They were bloody and black. He probably wore those ebony scars for many years.
I have surfed Billy L.'s name trying to find him to apologize. I found one with the same name but he said it wasn't him. He had a sister named Gloria. Wrong Billy L.
So this incident is one of the worst things I have done in my life. I can't just forgive my self and go on. I must continue to chastise myself every time I think of this episode. Maybe I should rent one of those airplanes that write in the sky and have him write, "Please forgive me Billy L.".
Another bad but not so drastic mistake I made. I had this most excellent photo of me and this wonderful statue at the Milwaukee Art Museum. I tried to crop it so it was a closer look and I screwed it up and got another photo on top of my right arm. I loved this photo of me. Addi returned to the museum once and took her own photo of her and the statue. I was jealous. I must return to this museum. (My hips look more like the statue now anyhow.)