I have just been thinking of how both when I was a child ad later there was a very strong emphasis on guilt and sin,but not on shame which I think is more painful or isolating.I am not quite sure what shame is but I am planning to find our.
Guilt is fear about something bad you have done.
Shame seems to be total feeling of being u nworthy as a person
I have become interested in virtue and perception.It began when I read a little Aristotle about virtue being a habit.That was quite recent.Before that for many years I believed virtuous acts would follow from being able to perceive well.But when we are fraught our minds and eyes tighten up and so we perceive only what may be a danger to us.To perceive others well we need to be in a position to trust others and we need to feel secure.How is this possible?From my studies I read that our ability to trust begins with a trusted caregiver in infancy,[See” atttachment and loss “by John Bowlby reference to come] We may be able to become more secure later by good fortune,friendship and love.If not,I seem to get the idea that if we are insecure and nervous we cannot truly perceive others and they may be in the same position.If we are very afraid then virtuous acts may be hard to accomplish. The reason is obvious… when. we are concerned with mere survival as a person , in that state what we do to others may be impossible for us to consider.We cannot truly see them and so we cannot act well towards them except by good luck.Or if we are able to tolerate great anxiety,we may see better…. if not we are incapable…. Those whom we cannot see properly we cannot truly consider with feeling and act on this feeling.We see them partly or mainly in terms of the fearful fantasies in our minds and cannot see them as other and interesting.When we make a friend online we may feel safer but in fact we are more likely to misperceive them. When we are from a sad a or difficut background it may help greatly if we have some friends who might point out our errors if we trust enough to tell them.Or we may pretend to be hard and tough.Neither leads to virtue.If we trust God it may help but I believe we see God through the lens of our parents.. which is not good…depending on the parents. When we live in fear,we cannot see what is there before us.We cannot let go.We cannot accept grace and love nor give it.We will try to live by will power.Ironically people who are fearful inside can develop a shell of toughness and pride and so are not seen as vulnerable and/or lovable.Tbey may seem frightening to others. This account may help to explain why politics is the way it is and also we see that arguing is not persuasive when the other is not able to open up and see things more broadly.Arguing makes us tighten up and see less well.And it can be frightening too though some cultures find it more acceptable than others.
Here are some relevant blogs and articles
This author had a lot to say about perception… http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/obituary-marion-milner-1163951.html http://susannanelson.wordpress.com/2014/03/02/happy-go-lucky/
Intriguing
This article appeared in Screen Education Issue 65 (Autumn 2012).
A seam of oddball characters and misfits runs through much of Mike Leigh’s body of work – from the jittery chain-smoker Nicola (Jane Horrocks) in Life is Sweet (1991) to the arch misanthropist Johnny (David Thewlis) in Naked (1993). Leigh is the master of the character study film, documenting ordinary people who live their lives outside of the norm. Leigh’s recent comedy, Happy-Go-Lucky (2008), examines the life of Poppy (Sally Hawkins), a garrulous 30-year-old North London primary school teacher with a sunny disposition. Poppy has a close-knit bunch of friends, a healthy social life and she takes a running jump at most challenges in life armed with nothing but her cracking sense of humour and a belief that things will all work out for the best. It says something about the ever-evolving ‘norm’ that Leigh’s latest outcast is someone…
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If you are blind there is no darkness.
There are trends in society to encourage us to build our self esteem and to value ourselves… to develop and achieve a place suited to our talents.. but what is best for me is when I lose myself in something.I was reading an old blog of a friend and was quite absorbed and went into a different state of mind..then I regretted I don’t manage to lose myself enough being a housewife and having much on my mind and being busy.
Sometimes it can happen when we love a person.Sometimes a wonderful landscape feels like home.. other times a sunset across the Irish sea from the cliffs of the Isle of Man where myriad butterflies swirl and float over flowers and rocks.
Modern life, the News,talk,excitement of the wrong sort seem to lock us into our self and frighten us so we forget the value of fining something in which to lose ourselves and grow as a result. Sitting by a river fishing,knitting,sewing,a book, many things can elicit this response And remember how horror filled was the self consciousness of adolescence and how good to forget one’s self being more comfortable and accepting of appearance and image..How to live like a wild flower for a time… and be happy not to be a rose but just a tiny wild geranium or a moderate sized gentle pink flower in a arden
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Living with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome – a survival strategy.
A very good post and person.Do read it as it is heartening
Image by author
Doctor,doctor,I’m worried about my coughin’.
What about your coffin?
Well,it’s keeping me awake at night.
Why, are you sleeping in it?
I have only got one place to sleep.
If you were tired you could sleep anywhere!
Is that legal?
of course it is. legal
Well,can I sleep in the Queen’s bed?
In theory,yes… but you might frighten the horses.
Why, do they sleep with her? She must have a big bed.
Don’t be so ridiculous…
Well,she has loads of money.. she, could have a bed made for her.
She has a bed maid,
Do you mean someone makes her bed every day.
Well,don’t you make yours every day?
No,I bought one in a bed store and it’s well built and good and solid too,
But do you change the sheets daily?
NoiI never use paper I write letters on my chromebook.
What letters?
Any letters at all,except French ones.
But they use our alphabet.
it’s not ours.
Whose is it?
Possibly the Romans.Tantrum ergo!
They are all long gone into their coffins.Uno,duo tres,quattore…,decem,duodecem,duagessin’..
I knew coughin’ was very dangerous
I think your grammar is bed.
What a posh excent you have
It’s all I have left of the old Palace.
Well, never mind you can share my coffin if you like.
But is there a bed in it?
Just a bed bug as yet…
I blame the CIA.. whom do you blame?
I blame God and he blames us so it’s pretty much a stalemate.
We need the Messiah…..
Not again,we’ve not got over the last one yet…
You make him sound like a hurdle…
Well,it’s one way of looking at it all.. a big hurdle.
It’s all this talkin’ keeps me awake at night…
At least it stops you coughin’.
Doctor,doctor,the coughin’s keeping me up all night.
For goodness sake put the lid on it!
“It is so shocking to find out how many people do not believe that they can learn, and how many more believe learning to be difficult.”
Have you ever felt you were behind a pane of glass? I did once many years ago after a friend committed suicide.It must be a protective condition but it is painful and odd.Everyone else seems ok ,you imagine,but you are not a part..In reality many people may be feeling like you do and putting on a performance while out at work or socialising.We are probably wiser as we grow older as we know more people better and see we are not unique in our suffering and pain; we know that feelings pass,even the worst ones and we may have become better at judging others and knowing if friends die by suicide it’s probably not our fault
When one feels that way it has to be accepted for the time being, like all feelings,I found reading poetry helped me and also being with others in a group where I could sit and listen without pressure to speak.I like this poem from then.It was a favorite of Simone Weil,the mystic.
LOVE BADE ME WELCOME by George Herbert
Love Bade Me Welcome – from Love (III)
Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back.
Guiltie of dust and sinne.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything.
A guest, I answer’d, worthy to be here:
Love said, You shall be he.
I the unkinde, ungrateful? Ah, my deare,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?
Truth Lord, but I have marr’d them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, sayes Love, who bore the blame?
My deare, then I will serve.
You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Synecdoche/
Synecdoche is a word I never knew.Metaphors and similes we were taught in school but metonym was not and synecdoche is related to that.An example is calling workmen on your farm “hired hands” and so would calling a woman a housewife,perhaps.I doubt if I shall use this word as I once tried to tell a joke at a dinner party involving the word,”solipsist” and it went down like a ton of bricks!
No,for social purposes I need to watch” low level” TV and get used to language which was never used in my youth; nowadays I could say,Oh fucking hell,I’ve lost my ear ring but not,I like a good metaphor that is not hackneyed,Or,what do you think of metonyms?
I also need to watch fat bald chefs cooking daft recipes full of limes,cream and spices before watching the News to find which celebrity is on trial for raping children.Then I have to watch soap operas and adverts for Swedish cars before microwaving a ready made meal I froze 3 months ago.Then I shall be fit to dine with the good and the great in their houses wth magnolia walls , chaise longues and oval beech dining tables.And eat those Nigella Lawson recipes without recalling her ex-husband art collector Charles Saatchi
On second thoughts I’ll stay at home with the dictionary and the cat
an
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lawrence_LeShan
For many years I have enjoyed the writings of Le shan.Recently I discovered that he had written a book about Evil.He also treated people with cancer for many years.I admire him
I am reading it slowly.I recommend,Alternate Realities from which some of his terminology comes.His book in Meditation is the best I have ever found.I was reading it as I was on a train going to my father in law’s funeral and a beautiful image cane to my mind
http://artquotes.robertgenn.com/auth_search.php?authid=6217
http://artquotes.robertgenn.com/auth_search.php?authid=6217
| Lawrence LeShan -A man will be effective to the degree that he is able to concentrate! Concentration is not basically a mode of doing but above all a mode of Being. (Lawrence LeShan) |
Ond day the evil, wicked witch caught a great s hoal of sardines in her net.The silvery little fish were taken away to a big factory.They were washed free from saltwater and packed tightly into little tins .I expect you have heard someone say.It was so crowded on the train,I felt like a sardine.What was worse still was that the sardines were covered in tomato sauce and that is evil because tomatoes do not grow under the sea or even in ponds and lakes.If you had seen the sardines lying side by side with their eyes gazing blankly at you,you might have had a bad dream…Finally the tins were sealed and a small key was fastened to the outside to enable people to open the tin and gobble up the sardines on a slice of lovely thick toast covered in the very best butter available.What a fate for these beautiful fish to be lying in tins on a shelf in the supermarket,never to swim in the sea again.To all appearances they were dead and were preserved only be special techniques developed by the food industry.?Have you ever wondered why milk never goes sour and bread stays useable for a week or more?Well, later on we may learn more about why this is but now I’d like you to think about all the sardines lying in those little flat tins and ask yourself whether you’d like that to be the end of your life..Unless you are very odd I imagine it’s a fate worse than death to you and so it was to these little sardines snatched from the sea where they were free to frolic all day long darting in and out of the strange eery plants that grow on the ocean bed far away from wars and politics and dread.
You will enjoy this blog about literature
I can’t wait for students to start registering for the next semester because I have developed this really hardcore literature course and I’m worried that not enough people will want to take it. We have this departmental culture that is based on the idea that students don’t like literature, that literature is too hard for them, and that they don’t want to take anything but language courses. A course in the XVIIIth-century Spanish Drama sounds hard, and it will be hard. I made no effort to make it sound sexy. There are no hobbits, goblins, sci-fi elements, or anything of the kind.
The course will be even harder than it sounds. A ton of reading, a lot of writing, and I want them to produce a real research paper at the end. This is not even a 400-level course but I was writing research papers in my 300-level courses, so…
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Anger makes me uncomfortable, I must admit. And last month, I finally realized exactly why that is. It is because for me anger has often seemed indistinguishable from violence, whether it is direct or indirect. Anger seems dangerous, uncontrolled, and frightening, and so I have often had difficulty expressing anger or hearing others express anger to me.
I have discovered I am not alone in that. I attended the Anger, Boundaries and Safety workshop at The Haven, on the west coast of Canada. The Haven is a place where I have gone several times over the past 15 years to learn about myself – why I think and behave the way I do, how it affects my relationships with those around me, and how I can change what I don’t like and celebrate what I do like.
This workshop is based on the pioneering work on anger done by the…
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How like a prison is my cubicle.
Yet I feel safe enclosed in this space.
‘Tis often claimed to be indubitable
That introverts desire a private place.
We suffer when with crowds and noise we mix.
We suffer from wild talking and blind eyes.
We suffer from the exrtroverts cruel tricks.
And ponder long on wherefores and on why’s,
Life can be so painful we retreat
We jail ourselves to gain some mental peace
Yet all the world’s our pleasure and it’s sweet.
So can a prisoner gain their own release?
An introvert is like a wild,trapped cat,
Which blindly scratches those on whom it’s spat.
How like a prison is my cublicle
Where I await the medic on his rounds
I bite my nails and chew their cuticles
But take care not to make a single sound
Were I to don this backless gown supplied
And lie uncovered on this small hard bed.
I feel as if someone will think I’ve died.
And like a book I will remain unread.
Alone and naked like a new born child
Or like a suspect in some secret jail.
I must keep hold of thought and temper wild…
No cries,no screams,no not a single wail..
How easily we ‘re plucked from normal rounds
And hurled into a maelstrom with no bounds
I’m a bohemian girl
I wear my hair in curls,
I wear maxi skirts
And denim shirts.
I wear long earrings
And black stockings.
I like folk songs,
And pierced tongues.
I like Wittgenstein,
And Melanie Klein.
I had psychotherapy,
But it was given to me free.
As I am so interesting,
And so infinitely trusting.
My unconscious mind
Is an analyst’s find.
I have such wise dreams,
On intellectual themes.
I see all my lives
From new perspectives.
I was an Egyptian Queen,
Feeling extremely mean.
I loved Mark Anthony
His touch was a symphony
Written by Schubert,odd,
Because Cleopatra was long gone
When Schubert composed his songs
And his symphonies too.
So time has got all curled up,
Like a snake in a drinking cup.
Now I have woken again,
I want that dream all over again.
I want a Roman Emperor
To be a sexual tempter.
I shan’t mind at all,
If I hear him call.
I’ll be excitedly glad
When my hormones go mad.
I’m a Bohemian girl,
I’ll make any man’s hair curl.
Lighten our darkness,we beseech thee
Although Stan was 82 he still rode his bike in the summertime.He was out in the gardenpumping up the tires prior to going off to the Library.suddenly his neighbourAnnie appeared at the gate.Bedecked as usual in finest Scottish tweed with a long pendant on a solid 22 carat gold chain swingingnonchalantly from her neck,with a matching ring attached mysteriously to her upper lip.”Who’re you,the Lady Mayoress” he joked.Where’sMary?” she pointedly whispered.”She’s up with herwidowed sister Joan inScotland ” Stan admitted nervously.”Joan,that’s not a very Scottish name!” Annie joked.”anyway how about we sit down here on this bench for a moment”.She pulled him vigorously towards her.Stan responded regretfully “I’m afraid I can’t stop.I have all these books overdue and the library shuts in 15 minutes.”Don’t worry,sweet heart”, she cried contemptuously.”I’ll pay all your fines.I’ve just come into loads of money.”
“Oh,how’s that.my angel” Stan murmured. “I just shot Bert.If you help me to get rid of the evidence,I’ll share the loot with you.”
At the funeral,Annie was dressed in a beautiful dark brown suit from Jaeger.She went around the room making sure everyone had enough food and drink..As she leaned over towards Stan her heavygold locket,inside which was hidden the bullet that killed Bert,swung over and hit Stan a glancing blow on the temple.
Stan fell to the ground.”Do you think we should ring 999?” someone asked sarcastically.Within minutes paramedics arrived.
“So,is it that chair again?” they clamoured.”Yes,this foolish old man fell over and the leg came off my new antique chair.I’ve only had it a few days and it’s not insured.””Did anyone ever tell you,your eyesare like deep pools in the Saragossa Sea?” The paramedic whispered into her right ear.
“Have you still not finished that Creative Writing Course?” Annie shouted.””I’m getting tired of you admiring my eyes.What about my nose?””Has anyone ever told you,your nose is the shortest they’ve ever seen?””That’s a bit boring” Annie retorted.”Yeah,maybe i should change to Art,” he ruefully moaned.”I love the way your deep blue and turquoise eye shadow is melting round your eyes andrunning down the sides of your nose.”
“Hurry up and fix my chair,and while you’re about it,you may as well take Stan down to A and E for a head X-ray.”
Glancing furtively at Annie in her Jaeger suit with carefully contrasting deep coral blouse and opaque teal blue 80 denier tights with 6 inch stiletto heels to complete the outfit, not to mention herraspberry coloured bra which clashed violently with the coral blouse which alas was more transparent than she realised, he picked up a hammer and began,excitedly,to mend the broken chair.”This is whatlife is all about,my boy” he though
How my heart sings 