P is For Patient Mini Course

Don’t fear the vacuum of time and energy you will free up.

Stop being complicit with hatred.

Jedi-like Patience.

In less than 20-minutes over five days.

Srsly. It works. And it’s guaranteed. 

I started with the “no thank you card.” Just by having it, I need it less. I go into situations mindful that patience may be necessary. I have the card; I am prepared. Then i do not even need to take the card out to use its power. It’s in my pocket, so i’m ready to not accept the negativity and focus on the things that need to get done: the commute, the grading, the student meetings. It’s been good and I look forward to trying the other exercises as well!

DYI – $50

Receive instant downloads as well as three “P is for Patient” cards in the mail.

Outsource – $180

Few people want to pay $50 to work on themselves.

Have Rabbi Brian spend 20-minutes of his time getting patience for you.

 

It totally changed things for me. I’m not even joking. It’s been really good. Like when Jake is about to piss me off, I act differently, because I don’t want to take out the card.

Now I’m going to work on my temper in the car with the “No Thank You” card.

This is self-care you need to do.’Even if you don’t want to. Or, ask me, and I’ll order it to come to your house.

Flash Bang

✧✧✧ My buddy Marc meets me near my house at 3:30 on Saturday afternoon so we can bike to the small park named for Elizabeth Caruthers. I looked her up as I started to write this article. Elizabeth Caruthers was an early pioneer woman whose Supreme Court case led to the 1850 Donation Act—ruling that a woman, married or not,

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Hiawatha Johnson, JR.

January 2026 — Portland, ORE Hiawatha Johnson, Jr., a mentor and friend died. Summer 1985 — Magic Camp Oakdale, Long Island I’m 15. He’s 30. He wears a dashiki. He uses a walking stick. I’m prepubescent. I listen to comedy cassettes on a Walkman. I’m in awe. ✧✧✧ I perform a rather banal magic act that year — me narrating

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The Delay

2026 issue #03 — The Delay I’m in my buddy David’s car. He’s driving me from my mom’s apartment in NYC to Newark, NJ, where I’m going to catch a plane back home to Portland. David and I have been friends for fifty years. Amazing. My phone dings. I look at it. Nothing important. Just an alert from United. *

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