Since we all must die, how shall we live?
What defences so we need to keep?
What our contribution,how to give?

We used to think  that  God lived  up above
If he did he now must be asleep
Since we all must die, how shall we live?

The most important action must be love
We must love, for those forsaken weep
What our contribution,how to give?

Touch me with your hand or with your glove
Keep me near you when my heart sinks deep
Since we all must die, how shall we live?

Action and activity’s a drug
We must ponder slowly as we creep
What’s our contribution,how to give?

The emergency of life sounds not a beep
As the shrouds of death around man drape
Since we all must die, how shall we live?
What our contribution, who to give?

 

https://www.salon.com/2014/02/16/youre_making_your_depression_worse_self_help_is_bringing_us_down/

 

“Given our natural reliance on and our confidence in thought, the urge to repetitively think about the causes and consequences of low mood can harden into a habit. Researchers label this habit of thought rumination. Some people enter a ruminative mode even when facing minor troubles, or even when their environment is benevolent. A consistent body of data—much of it collected by the late psychologist Susan Nolen-Hoeksema—shows that this is a dangerous habit. People who report a greater tendency to ruminate on a short questionnaire have longer periods of depressed mood in everyday life, are more pessimistic about the future, and have a harder time recovering from the effects of stressors such as a natural disaster or a recent bereavement.

The human meaning-making machine is so good at what it does that it can generate interminable interpretations. When persistent thinking gets stuck, it does not arrive at a stable theory of the problem, does not solve it, and cannot come to terms with it. Far from engaging in active problem solving, a person may simply perseverate on the fact of the problem (or problems) for months on end.”

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/women/life/could-talking-anxiety-make-worse/

 

“The psychologist Felix Economakis helps anxiety sufferers learn to ‘reframe’ their experiences as manageable rather than overwhelming, and believes that ‘our  society is making people more stressed  and depressed’. Modern life, he argues, ‘overstimulates the limbic system’ (a set of brain structures that deal with emotion and memory).

‘It’s always on high alert because the moment you walk out of the door, you’re fighting to get on the bus, you’re seeing newsflashes about terrorism, you’re worrying about keeping your job – there’s no respite.’

He believes there’s little point in exploring the possible roots of the anxiety when  it’s often simply a chemical response to ongoing stress. Instead, he leads clients through a series of stages to reprogramme negative thoughts.”

Words are like beads on a chain

Alone they can’t take any strain.

But joined up in gold

A sentence can mold

A prayer is repeated again.

2

Words cluster in larger groups

Waiting for writers to stoop..

Then instead of one word

A sentence is heard,

Some call this poetry soup.

3.

Professors do not create words,

which from the unconscious are lured

They only critique

What you and I speak.

After conversing and writing,that’s third.

Delayed Grief: When Grief Gets Worse

“Any type of loss where the griever feels it is their responsibility to be the “strong one” in the family: A lot of people may say this about themselves, but this a perceived need for strength to the extreme. A griever in this scenario would be showing almost no sign of emotion, and would prohibit themselves from being sad or fragile (perhaps even privately) for fear it would cause the rest of their family structure to collapse.

There is one thing that each one of these scenarios has in common: in almost every case the griever may have felt they had to turn away from their grief for something more immediate…something that felt like it needed more urgent attention.”

By my sister

https://www.publishersweekly.com/pw/by-topic/industry-news/religion/article/77385-zen-writing-and-the-art-of-facing-cancer-natalie-goldberg.html

 

“In her new memoir, Let the Whole Thundering World Come Home (Shambhala, June), acclaimed teacher and author Natalie Goldberg—a longtime practitioner of Zen Buddhism—writes of finding her way through hospitals, doctors, and painful treatments following her cancer diagnosis in 2015, and how Zen informed her response to the illness as well as the possibility of death.“

A day as warm and bright as in the Spring
The pine cones shiver in the gentle breeze.
The trees in bud, the birds revel in song 

Our memories   cannot store the very thing
The air on skin, the feel  of blossom trees
A  day as dear  with light as is the Spring

On  days like this, once more we do belong
And nature will respond to make us pleased
The trees in bud, caressed with new bird song.

The sounds  of earth are silenced when phones ring
Our flesh has turned to ashes long deceased
A  day  can take to   flight as  does the Spring

We  are betrothed, the bridegroom’s in the wings
The new act starts, the play’s by  con men seized
No consummation now, but for  the winged

I  wish that I had written more to please.
And yet the air is fresh  and we still breathe
A  day of charm  may revolution bring
The trees still bud,  yet birds rebel in song.

Life is  lonely in the city here
We left our birthplace seeking  work that paid
So many folk, yet nobody is near.

The mass of crowds  brings on a paranoia
While buildings once thought beautiful decay
Life is   alien in the city here

From the doorways ugly faces leer
Like evil children,  tortured by dismay
Many people,  nobody who’s near.

The birds don’t sing  yet I can hear them jeer
Then fly in circles in a fierce display
Life is alien in the city here.

My eye is dry, it lacks a single tear
As I become near static with despair
Many people,  nobody who’s near.

Why can’t I be merry, if not gay?
Why do thoughts so savage my heart flay
Life is  lonely in the city here
So many folk, so few  will come near