THE TURNING POINT: How TOXIC BRAIN Cleansed — Overnight!

November 20, 2025

Note: See yesterday’s post.

Last night seems to have possibly signaled a crucial turning point in this current highly eruptive, first ever Uranus Return phase of my lifelong journey, as I now near my 83rd birthday on December 19th.

Why do I say that?

Well, last night, I did make it to bed by 8 PM, and yes, listened to a 45-minute podcast, but this one uplifting, from Jeffrey Mishlove’s venerable “Thinking Allowed” collection. Fell asleep towards the end. Then, didn’t wake up until 12:45 AM! Four hours in a row! A crucial four hours to detoxify that sorry brain.

That I was able to do that turned a switch. Then, after peeing, when got back to bed and again, in order to fall asleep began to listen to another podcast, the one I listened to was so interesting that I remained alert through the entire thing.

 

 

What stuck out for me in this audio was first of all, was Toko-Pa’s lifelong concentration on dreams as her guides. While listening, I began to wonder: what happened to me? Back in the 1980s, I used to keep a dream journal, and viewed dreams, along with journaling and certain precious books (like Jung’s autobiography Memories, Dreams, Reflections), as essential tools on my own 7 year journey processing the PTSD of the one I called Orphan Annie. Since that decade this concentration began to fade; at this point, I have been mostly out of touch with my dreams for several years! That made me wonder, even shudder: Or have I NOT been dreaming? Has the audio coming into my ear while falling asleep interrupted the process of dreaming?

After it was over, I began to search for another podcast (since I was still awake), and then, suddenly, instead, what I now call the turning point: I decided to lie there without an external audio, to fall back to sleep without turning my attention to anything outside myself, for as long as it took. If I stayed awake all night, okay. I need to stop the addiction to technology in the middle of the night. Period.

And wouldn’t you know: I then, almost instantly, became aware of underlying acute anxiety; noticed it; kept on noticing it. Allowing it to be. My anxiety led my mind to remember when this particular phase of my addiction to technology began: when my son Colin suffered his catastrophe, back in August 2023. (See Caring Bridge Colin Cudmore Healing, where I post six days a week). A catastrophe which has utterly altered life in his body; he’s not just paralyzed from waist down, but endures nerve pain 24×7, and should have died a number of times.

Ever since Colin’s Catastrophe, when my empathic communion with him created anxiety so acute that I couldn’t sleep at all unless I got my mind focused on something else, I’ve relied on podcasts of one sort or another to fall asleep.

So, last night, I lay there on my back, silent and alone, accepting the anxiety, honoring it, feeling it, and shyly, asking for a dream — to the moment when my body relaxed and fell back into sleep.

And I when I did I dreamed! — that the event at which I am to speak on December 8 about the evolution of Green Acres Village was wildly successful!

 

There have been hints as to this possibility lately: for example, the dear neighbor across the street, as she began to back out of her driveway, stopped me on my way back from my walk two days ago, to say, she wants to come to this Supper Club event. That it’s very important what we’re doing here — calling it a four-home village (hers included!) in a neighborhood, and that every neighborhood in town needs to know that what we are doing here is possible there too.

Carisa is a wonderfully creative warrior; and her demeanor was fierce! I have a feeling she’s going to join me as we go forward from here.

(Hmmm. . . look back to the title of the youtube video above: From Exile to the Heart of Belonging. . . . Yes, we are creating a felt sense of belonging in our little corner of our neighborhood, and it feels really good in this age when increasing disconnection continues to encourage nastiness, thanks to technology.)

Then, this morning, this email from Joni McGary, the organizer of the Supper Clubs, a reminder to her list of what’s coming on December 8. Her timing, for me, couldn’t be more precise!

Needless to say, toxic brain has been cleansed.

 

 

 

Toxic Brain Needs Cleanse

November 19, 2025

In order for me to keep my inherently widely disparate life somewhat organized, I observe fairly strict daily routines. One of them is, after a long walk with puppy Scampi, to reserve two hours late mornings Monday through Thursday to compose a post for this blog.

Another is to nap between 1 and 2 pm.

Another is to try to get 7 hours of sleep at night, going to bed between 8 and 9 pm.

I can usually keep the morning pattern. And the nap. But getting 7 hours of sleep? Last night, I woke up a total of five times, after only one or two hours. Each time I wake up (and pee) it takes time to fall back asleep, via listening to podcasts on my phone.

And here’s a confession: the podcasts that help me sleep these days fall under the label of True Crime. Can you believe?

Last night was bad, really bad. Though my body has energy, my brain feels toxic.

 

And this morning’s routine has been disrupted as well. After our 4-mile walk, I opened my computer, only to suddenly discover that I had to deal with a situation involving a credit card, my credit union, and reservations for three for Thanksgiving Dinner at a downtown restaurant: $241.06 altogether. In order to make the reservation in the first place, which I did over a week ago, I had to get on a platform other than the restaurant itself (opentable.com). But today, I was told that my credit union couldn’t accept the $241.06 from that credit card. And that I needed to either call or go down to the credit union to tell them before dealing again with the reservation.

What? I went down there, but forgot to bring the computer which had the notice on it. They couldn’t figure it out either. I came back here, and tried to go on that same Open Table platform (assuming that the reservations had somehow not gone through), and pay again, this time with a debit card from the credit union, but was told that I had already made reservations and paid for them at that time; do I want to make another three reservations? (Reservations cannot be adjusted or canceled on that platform.)

 

Well, I just about threw up my hands.

Or maybe I should have just thrown up my hands. Let technology go. Let this computer go. Let my credit and debit cards go. Let it all go.

But here I am, composing a (truncated) post after all.

 

For my 83rd birthday this year, I’m gifting myself three days (December 18-20) in the Inn and walking the trails of Turkey Run State Park, and will take with me not even my dog Scampi (who tends to be as nervous system dominated as I am), only my phone, and that to only be used on the trails (in case I fall and hurt myself), and even the phone will be left in the car when I’m not on the trails, but instead, in my room, reading a real, printed book, or downstairs, in the restaurant.

I’ve done this before, this screen fast. And it’s way past time to do it again.

One month to go . . . birthday is the 19th December, same day that 3IAtlas (whatever that is or isn’t) is supposedly predicted to make its closest approach to Earth.