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This was such a great interview! 28:04 is a great response to toxic positivity

Insight. Honest. Eye opener

Where is the links ? Why his website is out of system?

Wowzers! This was quite the journey! A fantastic watch/listen, can't wait to read the book! With Many Thanks xxx

My dream handwriting: VS my real handwriting: What im suppose to write "Hi everybody." What it looks like I write "H|i E-veryb0dY"

I used to have a friend name Liam. Me and him were great friends and we also love bowling.but one tournament me and Liam did, Liam yelled don’t miss!, and luckily I didn’t miss but still I was so mad at him for yelling AT A TOURNAMENT that he was winning. So after the tournament I didn’t talk to him for a week and he thought I was just being a big baby.then he started telling my other friends that I was a b##ch and overreacting but I didn’t know that at the time. I was going to give him another chance so him and my friends were at a meet up and I go and I said let’s just forgive and forget and he Liam said mhmm well kinda treated each other like asholes then he gets my other friend to back him up I left right after that and went home crying and now I don’t have any friends

I used to have a friend name Liam. Me and him were great friends and we also love bowling.but one tournament me and Liam did, Liam yelled don’t miss!, and luckily I didn’t miss but still I was so mad at him for yelling AT A TOURNAMENT that he was winning. So after the tournament I didn’t talk to him for a week and he thought I was just being a big baby.then he started telling my other friends that I was a b##ch and overreacting but I didn’t know that at the time. I was going to give him another chance so him and my friends were at a meet up and I go and I said let’s just forgive and forget and he Liam said mhmm well kinda treated each other like asholes then he gets my other friend to back him up I left right after that and went home crying and now I don’t have any friends

🦋🍦💋🍃

It speaks well of you to not envy your kids because I realized in my life that this is not the case when parents are narcissistic. It is so strange for a parent to not want the best of everything for their kids. I really enjoyed your book. Excellent work. Love the armoire parked in front of the door metaphor. I'm going through that myself currently.

This guy's voice reminds of the voice used for House in New Vegas. I like it.

I have listened to Alfie Kohn's youtube interviews and lectures and read a book of his and my frustration with him is he just critisises the norm but never comes up with a series of ways to improve and change things ie no solutions

Promo*SM

Love this ❤ and it’s just so true!!!!

Ah, Prentis, I love the depth, your willingness to explore the preciousness of the mystery, of impermanence, of sensing within the moment for what is real & present and possible. Bless you and thank you for being.

I've worked plenty of jobs without paid sick leave. Mostly retail and restaurants but I always experienced this at some entry-level office positions.

There''s a pretty good meme about str8 white sci-fi authors of the 50's writing about women-- "Nurse Spavok boobed boobily down the space stairs, nipples aimed pertily spaceward!" One good turn deserves another... meet-- 2023 WHITE GIRL SCI-FI AUTHOR MEMEs!-- "Bare minimum bros bro broily down the stairs of broness, and of course I have vaguely gruesome bro-sex with him even though he's barely even human....oh by the way i didn't come"

Loved this! ❤

Not to mention that for autistic kids, "positive reinforcement" often means stealing their possessions and holding them to ransom to get compliance, not genuinely rewarding them with anything.

I love the GOTV angle at the end. Every vote counts!

❤❤❤❤❤

I have spent my entire life searching for the freedom to feel and to be.. alive. My emotions provide a tapestry for feeling alive.. and without my emotions I don’t have myself or any intimacy or connection. Yes. Our society forces us to control and repress and suppress emotions. Creativity and freedom come from love Loving life and making room for all emotions as a pathway to aliveness

Emotions are like energy in motion. I am here as a somatic presence. With sensations I can find emotions. All emotions are a normal and natural expression of being human and alive.

Learning the language of sensation to bond with self and other.

This was such a beautiful conversation! Am halfway through Nooren’s book right now and I’m in awe of the new depths she’s been able to capture about what it means to live in a post-colonial, capitalist world. In such a nuanced way at that. So so good.

Jacqueline takes you from seeing to observing. She is wonderful.

Nice little echo chamber of sexist toxicity you’ve got going here. 🤮

This interviewer did a terrible job at giving her guest any clear pathway. The interviewer had a cluttered agenda, of which she was inept at giving substance to. Lucky he is a Master in his field.

ROFL! I remember Book It! I was a passionate reader. I was so intrinsically motivated to read that teachers often punished me for reading. I hated Book It!

there's so much truth to this like even playing a video game goes down this road too like I used to want to make money from playin because I saw other people doing it and then gradually over time began to realize the guys who did it had to invest so much time that it became their job to do it and while the money was good the fact that they were unable to step away from doing the same routines over and over and over again eventually lead to them depsising the game while stil profiting handsomely from it. We see it happen even in the world of real money trade with video games, tthe moment you start getting paid enjoyment begins to decrease until it's completely soullless.

Or .... possibly its the whore and honey women who enables the ejaculated? YES. ITS TAKES TWO.

nothing to see here, just another couple of ultra toxic feminists which NOBODY will remember after their extinction.

I noticed the comments were turned off on ur recent vid. I just have to mention a few things. Condoms, pull out, birth control, and holla holla plan b. Not abortion.

it's shocking how little people understand of human reproduction.. especially the "experts"

Spread them responsibly

My favourite modern writer, Jami all your books are amazing.

A mind blowing conversation, I must read this book. Having dealt with codependency for decades, it is nice to hear that there is an actual origin to this behavior.

Baby steps are still steps. Yes that’s the difficult concept for me to rest in right now as I work really hard to heal

I'm really interested in thoughts now that abortion is a state decision and not a federally protected right. It seemed the focus was more on birth control but not on governmental invasive policies to control someone else body?

this was so good, thank you - i have the book from the library :) p.s. i have a sticker on my computer that says "i make things awkward" so i hear you

Hi Carissa, I'm in Brazil I'd love to do a meeting with Alfie. How did you contact him?

Excellent discussion!

This is one of those moments i feel understood by people i never met....and i feel encourage to share my trauma and my life journey.

Thank you for doing this interview! I loved your conversation.

Brief Bio: I’m Al Fogel born in 1945 and at an early age began writing poems. In 1962 I was introduced to a neighbor who just returned from Avatar Meher Baba’s “ East west” gathering and handed me a book titled “The Everything and the Nothing” that included brief but powerful passages by Meher Baba that touched me deeply and i became a “ Baba Lover” In 2010 while on Jane Reichhold’s AHA website workshopping poems I befriended a Chinese man who helped me perfect my Senryu and Haibun. I am now considered one of the nations leading authorities on Tanka , Senryu, and Haibun. Here are some examples of each of my specialties. They are all from the contemporary American format. Senryu ( senryu is the humorous human side of haiku. Usually 3 lines but can be 2 or 1 line so long as it is 17 syllables or less). It is considered the humorous human side of haiku. For example, the following two of mine are horrific and heartbreaking dealing with the Holocaust): cattle cars - between the slats human eyes ~ Stutthof - the stench of burnt smoke from the chimneys (And here are some more examples): thrift store purchase inside the leather jacket a tarnished half-heart ~ dentist chair the hygienist removes my Bluetooth ~ Internet argument all his words in CAPS hers in EMOTICONS ~ personal trainer I grunt sweat strain and HE gets paid ~ after the divorce he spends more time at the dollar store ~ damsel in distress Clarke Kent still searching for a phone booth ~ cauliflower ears once a contender now boxing vegetables ~ under the influence - moonshine ~ Audubon sale all variety of seeds. . . early birds welcome ~ Buddhist fortune cookie the unfolded paper reads “ better luck next birth!” ~ sudden downpour. . . adults run for shelter ~ sidewalk cafe birds and people tweeting ~ Crowded crosswalk the “seeing eye” dog leads the way ~ deserted train depot a long line of tracks leading nowhere ~~ return to my youth lit by the tracks of Lionel trains. ~ Tanka: (Tanka is comprised of 5 lines of 31 syllables or less. Usually there are far less syllables) Here are 3 examples: returning home from a Jackson pollock exhibition I smear my face with paint and morph into art ~ crowded bus a young lady offers me her seat it seems like only yesterday I was offering mine ~ deserted train depot a conductor shouting “ All Aboard!” now a long line of tracks leading nowhere ~ Haibun: ( the haibun consists of a prose section with one or more haiku that must in some way relate to the prose. All Haibun have titles Here are some examples: The Mathematics of Retribution “Karma is unfathomable,” I inform her It’s late and our conversation turns heavy “ Seems simple to me, “my girlfriend responds. “If I murder you, then it’s reasonable that I will be murdered in this or another life to balance the ledger.” “ Not necessarily so” I’m quick to rejoin. “What if you murdered me in this life because I murdered you in a prior life karmic debts and dues are now equalized.” “But what if I get caught and I go to jail for life. Where’s the equal payback in that?” “As I said, karma is unfathomable.” We continue discussing reincarnation and then add the possibilities of “group karma” to the mix Finally, at about midnight, we fall asleep Stutthof - the stench of burnt hair from the chimneys ~~ Mama There were days when I pretended to be too sick to go to school - - just for mamas loving embrace -her arms the heat of home Even with the onset of dementia, her cheerfulness was so contagious it was a joy being around her despite the illness. She made everyone laugh with her spontaneous unpredictable behavior. nursing home bumper wheelchair her favorite pastime Once a week I would whisk her away from the assisted-living facility and we would spend several hours together -grabbing a meal or frequenting some of her favorite second-hand stores where she loved to shop and donate clothes. When we drove to her favorite thrift in November, her dementia worsened. thrift store the dress mama donated she wants to buy On a cold December morn mama passed. The funeral was simple. There was a light drizzle as the family gathered at the gravesite. One by one, with eyes full of rain, we said our last goodbyes. autumn twilight - oh mama tuck me under hug me one more time ~ ‘Round Midnight It was a huge ballroom on the top floor of a building on Broadway --an important midtown crossroads in the heart of the Great White Way. My uncle still talks with reverence about how -in his heyday -he would travel by rail to the corner of Lenox and walk inside to the beat of jungle music. Who knew what to expect? One night you might be listening with rapt attention to Theloneous Monk and Dizzy Gillespie the godfathers of bebop in their signature beret caps, or the Nicholas Brothers flashing their wild acrobatic spins and splits, or enchanted by the sweet taste of Brown Sugar -with Bojangles out front. And when the Bird was in flight, even the moon was not high enough. But in 1940 the ballroom closed its doors to make way for a commercial housing development and another kind of night. Harlem The A-train replaced by the Bullet ~ Atlantic City New Jersey I had just graduated from high school I remember stopping for saltwater taffy -as evening journeyed slowly into night. Nearing curfew, we sat on a protruded sandy enclave--holding hands, looking out at the ocean, not saying much. In the distance the lights from an ocean liner flickered as the night kept coming on in... first “french kiss” under the boardwalk “over the moon!” ~~ All love, Al

I hope you don’t mind me sharing the following poem, one of my all time favorite meta poetic poems by a poet named “Howard Dull” titled “Suibhne Gheilt” that I recently chanced upon. When I read it, I became speechless. And most of my poetry friends consider this as one of their all time favorites. It was published in a 1970s anthology titled “ Open Poetry” and proves that once Poetry hits you in your heart, you could be the worst nefarious scoundrel with kings at your bidding and Empires at your command but you will be transformed and never again return to your former Self. ~~ Suibhne Gheilt 1 He has haunted me now for over a year that madman Suibhne Gheilt who in the middle of a battle looked up and saw something that made him leap up and fly over swords and trees - a poet gifted above all others - 11 How could a proud loud mouth who yelled KILL KILL KILL as he plowed done the enemy - heads rolling off of his sword - be so lifted up ( or fly up as those below saw it - wings beating) be so suddenly gifted with poetry and nest so high in Ireland’s tall trees? Is there a point where all paths cross? And why am I so drawn to him that all my questions seem shot in his direction? “And they ran into the woods and threw their lances and shot their arrows up through the branches” What parallels could I ever hope to find - my refusal to fight ( weaseling out on psychiatric grounds)? my leaving my country behind? my poetry? “and my wife wept on the path below. . . Oh memory is sweet but sweeter is the sorrel in the pool in the path below” I fly down every night to eat 111 Sweeney like the rest of us would have been better off if he had never anything to do with women. But the point of it lies hidden in a pool of milk in a pile of shit for you to see when a milkmaid smiles Sweeney like the rest of us flies down and when she pours the milk into the hole her heel made in the cowdung Sweeney like the rest of us kneels down and drinks and dies on the horn the cowherd hid in it. So before you have anything to do with women remember Sweeney the bird of Ireland lying on his back in the middle of that path in the moonlight. 1V And on my way home this morning ( my wife waiting) my shadow racing up the path ahead of me I saw something ( a black stone?) thrown at the back of its head ducked and spun around so fast I almost fell down - it was a bird flying up into a tree V No good could come out of this war out of what burns in the heart of our highly disciplined John Q. Killer as a whole village bursts into one flame - the villagers streaming like tears towards the forest cover his helicopter’s blades blow the leaves off and and the flame towards. . . as we sit in front of our bubbles watching our president ( whose bubbletalk no one can escape and he is a little bit mad -calling the reporters in for an interview while he’s sitting on the bubble having a bubble movement) and first lady climb into their big bubble bed an Lucy, born of their own bubbles, crawls in between - “ Mah daddy has so many troubles turning the world into a bubble and sick of crossfire - the cries of the women and children flying over his head - he stumbled down to the riverbank and found, the wreckage twisted around the tree behind, his skull. . . Noises, there are noises, noises that can of themselves drive a man mad -NOISES! But last night the Stockhausen penetrated from the four sides of the auditorium, stripping each layer of feeling and thought until all that was left was something the size of a nut - so tiny, so hard, so impenetrable it was alone in the middle of an infinite space. . . -Howard Dull ~~ ps: Howard Dull was such an obscure poet that he never published a book and ( to my knowledge) never published another poem. But OMG, this was so brilliant that in my opinion it should be read and studied at the college level. All love in isolation from Miami Beach, Florida, Al

Enjoyed very much your poems and unique word choices that had an emotional impact and kept me engaged throughout. I, too, am a poet ( I write mostly Japanese format poems i.e. haiku , senryu, tanka/kyoka, haibun etc. I hope you don’t mind me sharing a Tanka and a haiku dedicated to Matshuo Bashō’s frog with added insightful commentary by the late AHA founder and poet Jane Reichhold who considered my haiku among her 10 favorite haiku of all time! What an honor. Here’s the Bashō poem with Jane Reichhold’s insightful commentary: Bashō’s frog four hundred years of ripples At first the idea of picking only 10 of my favorite haiku seemed a rather daunting task. How could I review all the haiku I have read in my life and decide that there were only 10 that were outstanding? Then realized I was already getting a steady stream of excellent haiku day by day through the AHA forum. The puns and write-offs based on Basho's most famous haiku are so numerous I would have said that nothing new could be said with this method, but here Al Fogel proved me wrong. Perhaps part of my delight in this haiku lies in the fact that I agree with him. Here he is saying one thing about realism-ripples are on a pond after a frog jumps in, but because it refers back to Basho and his famous haiku, he is also saying something about the haiku and authors who have followed him. We, and our work, are just ripples while Basho holds the honor of inventing the idea of the sound of a frog leaping is the sound of water As haiku spreads around the world, making ripples in more and larger ponds, its ripples are wider-including us all. But his last word reminds us that we are ripples and our lives ephemeral. It will be the frogs that will remain. ~~ Now the tanka: returning home from a Jackson Pollock exhibition I smear paint on my face and morph into art. ~~

secrets...insightful to understand that they are mined for your work and therefore, disclosed

What a beautiful interview! Gave me a lot to think about today. ❤️ Appreciate this so much!