Yesterday I spent an hour tracking down the term "Matrix Energetics" after reading on Facebook of a girl planning to give her father a book of the same name. I focused in on a technique called Two Point (also 2 point or 2-point). After plowing through several leads, I deduced the basics, which are these:
1. Find two places on the body where your interest is drawn.
2. Ask yourself, "What is the story here?" Go with the first image or thought that comes to mind.
3. Once you have the image or thought in mind, ask yourself, "What needs to happen here?" Go with the first answer, be it picture or thought, that you get.
Last night I dreamt that I did Two Point on myself while driving a car. (Not to be tried in real life, OK?) Within seconds I felt disoriented and a bit woozy. That's all I remember.
This morning I tried Two Point on my cat, Lovepie. Her left eye has been weeping a clear, watery discharge the past week. Knowing (I think) where the problem was, I placed each hand on the side of her face, closed my eyes, and asked myself, "What is the story here?" An image appeared of a waterfall. I then asked, "What needs to happen here?" I saw a hand turning off a spigot.
That was all. End of Two Point. About an hour later I was putting on my shoes, getting ready for my day working with autistic kids, when I remembered Lovepie. I put on my glasses, looked at both eyes, and they were dry. (When I got home this afternoon the left eye was again discharging.)
So, I figure, this is pretty cool stuff. I'll have to try it out on D. D is diagnosed severly autistic. He will spit at you, kick you, pull your hair, hit you and other children, throw desks, take off his pants and throw them over the fence, take off his shoes and throw them in the sticker bushes... you name it, he'll do it.
I'm on the playground with him this morning. He's sitting down, pulling out tufts of grass and poking them into the small hole in a sewer cover. I remember he showed me a new hurt place on his leg earlier this morning. I two pointed it and the image of a woman (his mother?) appeared. I then asked what needs to happen and there was the image of a woman (his mother?) kissing his hurt.
I won't offer my interpretation here.
I wasn't done yet. I next two pointed D's head. I got the image of worms burrowing in his brain. I asked what needs to happen, and I saw an image of wriggling worms in rich, dark soil.
How to interpret? Well, here I'm a bit more sure of myself. Worms in the brain is Alzheimer's Disease. OK, now we have a 7-year-old with Alzheimer's. Or something resembling Alzheimer's, because this kid's symptoms are identical with the advanced stages of the disease.
It took me about 30 minutes to puzzle out the answer to the "worms in rich, dark soil." The answer dawned on me while the kids were eating lunch. What does good healthy soil, rich with earthworms (and their casings) produce? Of course! Good, nutritious, organic food. Just look at the diet most of these kids get. (By this I mean what they choose to eat.)
Just because common sense suggests a possible answer, not just for D but for millions of kids, don't hold your breath on this one. Hey, Red Hots rule!
Almost forgot... Teacher brought D into the lunchroom as the rest of us were finishing up. (D eats alone in the room due to his impulsive behavior.) As teacher took him by the hand to leave, D waved goodbye at us. First time ever. I was astounded and very happy.
A spit guard looks a bit like a welder's shield. It's got a full-face thin plexiglass front to protect the face and mounts easily to any sized head. The teacher and I each wore one today when we changed the diaper of boy D. Actually, D was completely cooperative during the changing. It was most of the rest of the morning that he would spit in our faces.
D requires one-on-one at all times. Even then, if another student gets close to him, nine out of ten times he will hit or kick. I'm trying to reconcile what I'm reading here with D's behavior. So far no one has been able to identify any precipitating cause for his impulsive attacks.
We've been told another aide is on the way, maybe by tomorrow. That's very good news because the three of us are not enough. D, little girl A, and little girl B require intensive management. Little boys DA, T and C require somewhat less in the way of teacher-student interaction.
Oh, by the way, we're due to get a new little boy, E, tomorrow.
Because T is too advanced for our class, we arranged for a trial swap-out for a third grader, J. Although a third grader, J is the size of a first grader. We were told he was not a behavior problem, but, upon his arrival, I had my hands full. He wanted to grab everything in sight, whether or not another student was using it. So teacher and I realized we (no, I, because I had initiated the swap while teacher was otherwise occupied with spitboy) had made a miscalculation and so we promptly canceled the swap. We're still trying to get T in a more advanced class.
Back to D - He was fine the first 30 minutes of school. I was working with him on shapes and numbers. I'd give him a foam circle and say, "circle," and he'd repeat it and pass it back to me. Later I got him to count the white plastic spoons, up to five, in English and Spanish. It was about this time he starting spitting and throwing things. Tomorrow we're going to try something. We've noticed that D is just fine outside the classroom when we have recess. (Well, let's say mostly fine. He'll still try to hit or kick any student within striking range.) So tomorrow I'm going to try giving him his lessons outside after recess.
Today I got to better know C and DA. By lunchtime C had bonded with me. He kept running his hands up and down the front of my shirt. We worked with matching numbers with pictures using a jigsaw metaphor. He wasn't able to follow me. Instead he would pick up the cards and tap them on the desk. He's our little drummer boy.
I was taking pix of the full moon last week and when I finally got a chance to look at them yesterday, I was a bit surprised to see what appears to be a spirit orb in four of 16 shots. Here they are, in sequence. (More spirit orb info here.) My house abuts the Tortugas Cemetery so I'm not shocked or anything. One day soon I'll hop the wall and take some graveyard pix. (These four pix are jpegs with no digital darkroom enhancement or manipulation. I do plan to go in and play with these images at a later date.)
On Sunday I shot a relative's 75th birthday. Near the end of the shoot I was attracted by this bit of greenery. I'm quite pleased with the shot.
No real surprises. Six out of seven students showed. Of the six, three require one-on-one supervision. There's one teacher and two aides. Do the math.
The little girl in the wheelchair, let's call her A, can walk! Turns out she's in a wheelchair for restraint purposes. And for good reason. Once she's out she crawls and writhes and, at one point, slithered over to a little boy and tried to bite his arm.
A little boy, let's call him D, has no impulse control. I learned very quickly to stay out of striking distance. He struck the teacher twice, struck a student once, pulled out a drawer which crashed to the floor, ripped a read-aloud book in two, and tore the head off my rubber chicken. This is the little boy who's IEP states that he Hates red. Guess the color shirt he wore today.
I took D for a walk outside and he was perfectly behaved. He enjoyed throwing five white plastic spoons on the ground and then picking them up as I'd count in Spanish. We played with a soft spongy orange ball and then went to lunch, where he promptly flippped, first his own tray, and then turned around and flipped the tray of another student.
T was the only student who talks like a "normal" child. The others either didn't speak at all or said one or two words. At the end of the day we decided that T was too advanced for our class and should be moved to a more enriching environment. I interacted with T (and with D, above) a good part of the day. He's the only one who can draw a recognizable picture... the others just scribble, mostly. During his drawing time (he drew several tents and asked if I'd go camping with him) he spotted a ladybug walking across the table. I told him it was good luck. Not so lucky for the ladybug. Squish!
B is a runner. I had to have help getting her to the bus after lunch because she kept running from me. She likes to turn the lights off and on in the classroom. We agreed that B demands a stern countenance.
We also agreed that DA and C, both boys, fell through the cracks today due to the fact that the three of us were kept busy with D, A, and B. We've worked out a system whereby (we hope) those two boys will get their fair share of attention starting tomorrow.