“Maria’s self-view was that she was inadequate” by Julia in the bathroom

Friday April 5, 2019

8:17pm

5 minutes

Spirituality in Clinical Practice

Len Sperry

Can only write with one hand

Cannot read maps

Cannot read lips

Can only chew one one side of mouth (cavity)

Can hold grudges

Cannot decide quickly

Can lose track of time

Cannot multitask

Can underestimate task load/length

Can fall asleep sitting upright

Can dream scream

Cannot remember which books have money inside

Can stare blankly

Can want to help even if it complicates

Cannot drink a lot

Can blame others

Can check likes too often

Can only tie laces using bunny ears

“periodic assessment” by Julia on her couch


Sunday March 19, 2017
8:54pm
5 minutes
from a contract

There was a scrawny boy, from my teaching days, who used to come into my office for extra help on his map reading at recess. He was very worried that he wasn’t picking up on the navigation unit as comfortably as the other children so I worked with him as best as I could and showed him plenty of examples. He seemed to always wear that same confused face even after I felt I had made things very clear. I tried not to get frustrated that he’d come in every day to work on the unit that everyone else had figured out with relative ease. I asked him one day if he thought coming in to see me was helping him. That’s when he told me he had understood the whole time but was afraid of recess because of Tyler, who sometimes tripped him while he ran.

“Maps of the sea floor” by Julia at Nova Era Bakery


Monday June 3, 2013
11:18am at Nova Era Bakery
5 minutes
National Geographic May 2013

A million seashells collecting light.
They dance and dance and dance.
With the whisper of tomorrow in each crevice-the hope that yesterday stays in its place-what do we hear when we listen? A lullaby? Some say the ocean but what is that really? Mother Crustacean looking for her babies? A verbal diagram of where to find pearls and other buried treasure? A map of the sea floor and who lives where and for how long?
They dance and dance and dance in the light-reflecting off the water top and into the sun like a pre-meditated thank you. They exist both here and now, there and here, then and there. They keep their mouths shut tight-so the poetry stays safe, so the magic doesn’t escape, so they can wait for an unsuspecting ear to hear the magnitude of where they came from. And they dance and dance and dance. They don’t apologize for taking up the morning with their beauty, they take their time and let the light absorb the way it should.