sandplay therapy - Key West style :-)

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I was told in my sleep last night that Mississippi beat Alabama, and when I went online this morning, I saw the Mississippi Rebels football team had beaten the Alabama Crimson Tide, 43-37, a game Alabama could have won but lost due to a late interception, just like it lost to Mississippi last year by a late interception. I told some football fan buddies in Jack Flats sports bar yesterday afternoon that I felt Mississippi might be too much for Alabama, which has no field goal kicker, poor pass defense, a not very good punter and is weak at the quarterback position.

I was at KOTS, starting to nod off reading a novel, when that game started at about 9:30, entirely too late for a college football game, but that’s what the TV moguls arranged. I awoke, hoping the adverse outcome for Alabama wasn’t metaphysically influenced by my not having finished dealing with something personal my dreams indicated needed further attention from me. That has happened before. Maybe more about the most recent possibility in today’s post.

Meanwhile, maybe I should become an Auburn fan. They got run over by LSU yesterday afternoon. And I mean that literally, the LSU running game was fierce. Their star running back was injured in the 3rd quarter, though. If his injury was not serious, LSU might be the SEC team to envy this year.

In the Key West litter box, a letter to the editor in today’s Key West Citizen (keysnews.com) caught my eye, I added the pic:

Whistleblower’s reward travesty of justice


Monique Acevedo stole more than $400,000 in taxpayer money. Her husband Randy attempted to cover it up and let the theft continue. Katharine Reitzel blew the whistle so there would be an end to the thievery. What was her reward? She was given the option to retire, resign or be fired. What would your choice be?

After more than five years, her case of wrongful termination was finally heard by Judge Mark Jones and the determination was made that the case should go to trial and the dates were finally set. A few weeks later, the judge wanted to hear the school board’s defense again. What a surprise when he threw out the case. Is it normal for a case to have all legal arguments completed, be set for trial and then be re-opened for argument? “Good ole boy” network at work here?

Why not let her case be heard by a jury of her peers? Five years ago, Judge Jones let Randy Acevedo get away with his felonies with only a slap on the wrist. Randy has now been rewarded with another high-paying government job. Additionally, there were probably quite a few applicants that were much more qualified for the IT position, but were passed over for another Bubba.

What was Katharine’s reward for performing her fiduciary responsibility? She lost her job and her livelihood. She was protecting us: the hard-working taxpayers of Monroe County. Why is there a law to protect whistleblowers when it will not be enforced? I cannot imagine the stress and duress this woman has been through. Where is the justice?

Nancy Turenne

Marathon

I was in the courtroom when Judge Mark Jones sentenced Monique Acevedo to 8 years, as I recall, after dismissing her defense lawyer and a psychiatrist’s claim that what really drove Monique was she had bipolar disorder. I suddenly felt so sorry for her, for she had been given two prison sentences, instead of one. I was certain she was not bipolar, but was driven by her own personality defects and by oxycodone, which, I understand, is a synthetic version of heroine.

I had been reading the Citizen reports leading up to Monique’s pleading guilty, then arguing she was mentally ill. It was my impression then State Attorney Dennis Ward would have been happy with 6 or even 4 years, and when 8 years was handed down, he was surprised. He called me a couple of days after Monique’s sentencing and we talked about it. He said Judge Jones once had a wife who did to him something similar to what Monique did to Randy. I said, oh, maybe that’s why Judge Jones gave her 8 years, and why he didn’t put Randy in prison, where I felt he belonged.

As for Kathy Reitzel, School Board member Andy Griffiths told me he felt she had waited far too long to blow the whistle, and that’s why he voted to get rid of her. I felt that was lame, because it probably didn’t matter when Kathy blew the whistle, she knew there would be retaliation; that’s the way of things in the Florida Keys. If Kathy had not blown the whistle, the Acevdeos may never have been caught. If Kathy had not been State Attorney Dennis Ward’s star witness against both Acevedos, they might not have been convicted.

Judge Mark Jones ruled that the whistleblower protection statute did not apply, because Kathy quit, to avoid being fired. Make no mistake, though, the School Board fired Kathy, and she chose to quit as one way of them getting their way. Only an insane person in the school district will ever blow the whistle, after what that School Board did to Kathy. I believe the members of that School Board, who are still in office, are Andy Griffiths and John Dick. Maybe the voters will fire them the next time their seats come up for election.

On the environmental front, Jerry Weinstock, M.D, Psychiatry, whose second vocation is trying to protect Mother Nature, authorized me to publish an editorial he submitted the other day, I added the pic:

Scenario of Horror

I have done many years of research, for a book, on the terrible demolishing of the Key West natural environment including the bad decisions we continue to make degrading our natural heritage.

I have lived and dove and fished and closely observed south Florida for almost 8 decades, including our precious keys. I have drawers full of my notes of observation detailing our endless, continuing desecrating of our natural heritage, the environment, land and ocean.

I received catastrophic news that was substantiated and printed in the Key West Citizen Newspaper extracted from the Sarasota Herald Tribune on July, 31st , 2015. For days I could not write due to numbing shocking frustration and wrath.

Basically just adjacent to The Big Cypress National Preserve and the Everglades, plus the 2 wild life management areas a formal proposal was put forth by Kanter Real Estate, LLC. They filed an application with the Florida Department of Environmental Protection to drill an exploratory oil well 12,000 feet deep. Let me make this as lucid as possible for myself and for readers. What this means is that this drilling could and would impact the entire vast biosphere of south Florida. This unprecedented invasive well placed in a region of immense fragility would endanger and put at extreme risk the whole treasured Eco-system. Ignored would be an unparalleled valued tract of the planet that people draw inspiration from, acquire tranquility and peace of mind and for some people a reason to go on with their lives drawing from the healing aura of this natural treasure. It possesses hope and sustenance that is dimensionless, in fact, infinite.

Factually, all oil drilling whether it is labeled fracking or not requires chemicals. Drills require lubrication which are termed “muds”. These are composed of hundreds of compounds, usually each oil corporation has its own protected recipe. They are all composed of hundreds ofcompounds, some heavy metals, including outright poisons like Cyanide and Arsenic or related deadly chemical substances. South Florida, our home is one contiguous mass of flowing water, both on the surface and the aquifer underneath, all connected, all integrated. Toxins from drilling and open pit mining, which was also applied for, will leach directly into our water flowage, that finds its way, unerringly into the sea and our critical drinking water, vital to a civilized society. It all spells doom for the keys and all of South Florida including crucial organic life in all directions fish, lobster and crabs. dead. This is a soup of death, carrying lethal toxicity. This sends my head spinning. Have we lost all reason, all sanity? It is part of a maniacal frenzy, crazed exploiting. Spills of all kinds most likely could occur chemical and petroleum. In addition to all this the application includes a license to do seismic survey of the sacred Big Cypress Swamp wetland. What this means is to set off explosives in order to measure and analyze vibratory returns. A solemn protected area, a retreat for the last of our remaining wild life, last of an intact ecological system. What does all this mean, shredding the remainder of our natural heritage ?

Newer extraction methods as shale mining or hydraulic fracking, tar sands, deep offshore drilling have been known but sane humanistic environmental safeguards have prevented the chaotic deadly pollution that these diabolical methods create. There was a morality that has gone the way of the Ivory Billed Woodpecker. Bristol Bay’s proposed pebble mine in Alaska is a prime analogous destructive mine in a priceless fragile wrong biospheric location. Sanity has gone. Are we in-line to suffer the fate of Ahab the sea captain in Herman Melville’s Moby Dick in his crazed pursuit of the great white whale? This application for oil drilling, mining and seismic exploration is fanatically crazy and ought to be treated like an animal infected with rabies.

There are many ways that civilizations come to an end.

submitted by Jerrold Weinstock, M.D. (masters level ecologist.) 305-304-1563and 305-294-3094——-Key West, Florida. ( one Bougainvillea ave. )

On the USA War Machine, Inc. front:

Rich McKay shared Daily Kos‘s photo.

September 18 at 5:35pm ·

Daily Kos

SIGN THE PETITION: Dick Cheney MUST be charged with war crimes—https://actionsprout.io/8C431A

As for the personal thing, which I mentioned early in today’s post,

while I was watching LSU run over Auburn yesterday afternoon, a fellow came into Jack Flats and sat himself on the empty bar chair beside me and reintroduced himself as a fellow who had once written to me from Jacksonville, Florida, who was homeless there, wanting to know what I thought about him coming down to Key West to be homeless? I did all I could to discourage him, but he came anyway. Now he is has a job cleaing up the ocean adjacent to Higgs Beach and is staying in communal housing in Catholic Charities adjacent to the soup kitchen. He said he reads all of my daily posts. He said he found me very different in person, than reading me; I was more fun in person. I said that’s because I’m playing, watching college football; when I’m writing at goodmorningkeywest.com, I’m head to head with Lucifer behind the scenes.

Then, off and on for about another hour, even as I kept trying to shut him up, he proselytized his spiritual views, which, as I grokked them, are: nobody knows what’s happening, ever; everything that happens is supposed to happen; if you keep doing the same thing over and over again, nothing will change; he’s perfectly happy with his life, because his life is just how it’s supposed to be; nobody has any reason to complain about anything; if you don’t like what someone says or does, you are responsible for how you feel, not him. I told him he was preaching to and trying to convinced himself, he had no comprehension of how he came across to other people, and all he cared about was himself.

I also told him, if he kept after me, he was going to learn that what he perceived in my writings as a grouch would prove to be a very happy person compare with how I would start talking to him. He kept after me, and I kept letting him have it, until finally I told him to be quiet, I didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say.

After leaving Jack Flats, I kept asking the angels what in the hell that was all about? Surely there was a message in it I needed to see, which was for me. Nothing came.

Pedaling my bicycle toward KOTS, I thought maybe I should stop at get a couple of bags of peanuts from the Shell station at Palm Avenue, in case I got hungry. I got the peanuts, ate one bag, even as I was going into hypoglycemia really fast. Earlier in the day the same had happened, briefly, then had self corrected. I ate the second bag of peanuts, and the hypglycmemia got worse. So, I stopped at the McDonalds, where a homeless friend on his bicycle ahead of me had pulled in, and I ordered a quarter pounder with chees, $4.40, egads! I wolfed that down, as my friend wolfed down two double cheeseburgers, the best buy, he said. The hypoglycemia subsided, but did not disappear.

My homeless friend already had told me his father now lives in Alabama. He mentioned yesteday money he had stashed with his father. Before, he had mentioned he would be rich when his father passses over. He said the air in Key West is really clean, compared to the mainland. This is the best place to live for clean air. The air is not clean on North Roosevelt, with all of the motor vehicle traffic there, unless the wind is really blowing, but I agreed, the air here is far cleaner than the mainland. Maybe he was there with a message for me from the Lord, that Key West is the best place for me. I had told the fellow at Jack Flats, when he asked me if I liked Key West, that his question revealed he did not read my daily posts, for if he did read them, he would know I don’t like Key West.

So, my dreams last night aimed me right at my 3rd wife, Betty Catherine Jackson, about whom I wrote maybe two weeks ago, without providing her full name. She was the student of Dora Kalff, who founded Sandplay Therapy, who took in a Tibetan Buddhist lama refuge, whose son Martin became that lama’s “adopted son” and student in Tibetan Buddhism, which religion Betty eventually adopted according to what I once saw on her website, which I cannot now find online. There is a good bit online about Dora Kalff, who was my dear friend.

Sandplay - Dora Kalff - YouTube

? 50:20

www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWd40dMH70c

Sep 30, 2013 - Uploaded by Psychosmart

Pioneer in sandplay, psychologist Dora Kalff, talks about the sand box and demonstrates and analyses some …

I gave Betty full power to decide what, if any, of my worldly assets I would take with me, if she and I ever broke up. All of my assets were derived from an inheritance from my father’s father. Betty took about 85 percent, after she said she wanted us to be apart. I had supported her and her son entirely, for 8 years. I was spirit-blocked from making a living wage, which she knew. She thought my father would die soon, and I would receive $1,000,000. My father did not die. I ran out of money and lived mostly homeless after I ran out of money in mid-2000, until my father died in late August 2005 and receiving the $1,000,000 inheritance on Valentine’s Day, 2006. How that all got spent by the fall of 2014, I have reported several times at goodmorningkeywest.com. I also explained it to Betty in the email I sent to her.

Betty told me in 1998 that she had made a promise to God that, after her son was grown and no longer needed financial help, she would make a more equitable distribution of our divorce settlement, in which she also had gotten one half of the farm she had inherited from her mother. Her brother inherited the other half. I had paid the lawyer and the estate taxes for Betty’s half, so she could get her half of the farm.

I wrote about some of that in the Labor Day: redneck tantra and other little known spiritual disciplines – Key West ashram post at goodmorningkeywest.com. Then I emailed Betty, including that post and saying more to her. Then I had a dream, in which she came to me, pleasant, as I was tending to cleaning up one small dirty mess and dealing with a big bug in the air. Then, in my sleep I was told I needed to practice forgiveness. Then, I sent Betty a p.s., which I thought took care of the dirty mess and the big bug in the air, which, the bug, seemed to be about my forgiveness of Betty.

Then, I seemed pushed in a dream to out Betty online. But why out her, if I was practicing forgiveness of her? Leaving KOTS shortly after having that dream, I saw a domestic rabbit at the nearby golf course. Rabbit Woman was my pet name for Betty. I understood the rabbit pointed me toward Betty, and I felt it was about giving her a pass, since I had been told to practice forgiveness.

Well, yesterday seemed to go another way. Low blood sugar, temporary diabetes, see Betty in diabetes? I did. My gut felt poisoned yesterday, until late, after Jack Flats, when I used the toilet. I had 4 years of no bowel movement during a dark night of the soul, when I was with Betty. She was fully apprised of the dark night. She was fully apprised of the spirit world, multiple dimensions. She experienced multiple dimensions. She used her dreams.

The fellow in Jack Flats first contacted me from Jacksonville, Florida. Betty’s last name is Jackson. That was what he was about, Betty’s and my marriage failing left me wrecked for a very long time; it still gnaws me, and not the just being homeless result. It gnaws my soul. The last time I saw Alabama play Mississippi in person was in Jackson, Mississippi in the early 1970s. I was there as the guest of the owner of Jitney-Jungle, a Jackson-based grocery chain with which my father’s snack foods company did a lot of business.

So, I suppose I’m going to be putting something together, to put up online, sort of along the lines Betty got Martin Kalff and other friends of her and mine to put something up online telling her side of what happened, which was hardly complete, and she knew it, and I’m pretty sure they knew it, because they had already heard my side of it, from me. Mainly, the part where Betty denied she ever made that promise to God, which she told me she had made.

So, maybe God has not yet forgiven Betty, for I really do not want to be going into this again. I told her that in my email to her, which she may not even have read; perhaps it went into her junk mail folder and she did not even see it; perhaps she saw it and did not open it, and deleted it unread. I don’t know, other than she did come to me in a dream the night after I sent the main email, laying it all out. She was friendly in the dream, beckoning. Sandplay therapists are very big on dreams.

www.sandplay.org

Betty had a weakeness in her lungs, which demonstrated in a weak chronic cough. I first started getting pneumonia shortly after she and I met in September 1887. I came to associate my pneumonias with me working through something in spirit, thus not something to see a doctor about. The recent respiratory tract disturbance, now seeming on the mend, set me up to complete this round of what the angels want me to do with Rabbit Woman. I heard Dora Kalff say the rabbit is the only symbol with the same meaning in the east and the west; it is the feminine.

I suppose my lady Kari Dangler’s golf pencil taking up residence in my chest, thus Kari doing that, as reported recently at goodmorningkeywest.com, also had something to do with my going back into it will Betty, who probably has been in my chest all these many years. Kari’s probably doing a little housecleaning, since she’s my lady now. This post begins with the first of her most recent drawings. Here’s that drawing’s companion, maybe Kari’s version of “sandplay therapy”.

From time to time Betty accused me of trying to destroy all forms of mental health therapy, including sandplay therapy, via the therapeutic work the angels were teaching me. I told her she was right, that’s exactly what I wanted to see happen, because life itself was sandplay, so was no need for little sand trays and standplay therapists, who, I heard Doral Kalff tell her students many times, could not take their patients past where they themselves had progressed, but angels can take their patients past any human’s progress.

Ciao,

sloanbashinsky@outlook.com