Day: July 29, 2018

The flaw in the stages of grief theory

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/megan-devine/stages-of-grief_b_4414077.html

 

“Grief is the natural response when someone you love is torn from your life. It is a natural process: a process of the heart being smashed and broken open, of reality shifting and hurling in place. It cares nothing for order or stages.

The truth is, you can’t force an order on pain. You can’t make it tidy or predictable. The stages of grief are a net thrown over a fogbank — they help neither to define nor contain.

To do grief “well” depends solely on individual experience. It means listening to your own reality. It means acknowledging pain and love and loss. It means allowing the truth of these things the space to exist without any artificial tethers or stages or requirements.

There is no set pattern, not for everyone and not even within each person. Each grief is unique, as each love is unique. There are no stages capable of containing all the experiences of love and pain. There are no stages of grief.

If we take away this bedrock, what remains? What do we do without those landmarks?

Here are some things to remember:

• There is no finish line. This is not a race. Grief has its own lifespan, unique to you.

• There is no time when pain and grief are completed; you grieve because you love and love is part of you. Love changes, but does not end.

• What will happen, what can happen, as you allow your grief, is that you will move differently with pain. It shifts and changes: sometimes heavy, sometimes light.

• Anger will happen. So will fear, peace, joy, guilt, confusion, and a range of other things. You will flash back and forth through many feelings, often several of them at once.

• Sometimes you will be tired of grief. You will turn away. And you’ll turn back. And you’ll turn away. Grief has a rhythm of its own.

• Grief can be absolutely crazy-making. This does not mean you are crazy.

• There is no way to do grief “wrong.” It may be painful, but it is never wrong.”

Hit it like a  cricket ball that speaks

The gong sounds deep and  mellow as it shakes
Polished  like the candlesticks we  used
And deep inside my secret soul awakes

Strike with all your  present force to  make
A  bang to sock the sleeping and confused
The gong sounds deep and  mellow as it shakes

Hit it like a  cricket ball that speaks
We’re the humans who the world misuse
While deep inside a secret soul awakes

The sins of all the ages froth and leak
Despite the store detectives in the queues
The gong sounds deep and  mellow as it shakes

Fire it like you want to kill  with nukes
After this what rubbish can we lose?
Oh, deep inside a sorry soul rebukes

Put it on the late night evening News
Tell the congregation in their pews
The gong sounds deep and  mellow as it shakes
And deep inside the world  our soul  is trapped

 

The dictionary

wooden desk with books on top
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The dictionary,what an instrument!
Human beings spoke without its need
To gather up our words , define and count

Literacy, slow in its intent,
Began to spread and offer its rewards
The dictionary, what a fine event.

Yet  there are obstacles we must confront
As words  begin to rule and to divide.
So watch  your words , define and  always  count

Sadly language  turns malevolent
When those in power use  sentences  to lie.
This dictionary,what a grave event.

And more when it is used with ill intent
Orders sent to  murder the despised;
Gathering Europe’s Jews for death’s torments.

Elsewhere on our earth  more genocides
Scapegoats suffer,live our  suicide
The dictionary, what it represents:
Scholarship to murder  or  disturb

Doris Lessing

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

https://io9.gizmodo.com/rip-doris-lessing-one-of-science-fictions-most-indis-1466329614

The beginning:

“Doris Lessing, who died today aged 94, wasn’t just a Nobel Prize-winning literary author — she was also a major hero of science fiction. She was one of the first authors with mainstream acclaim to embrace, and her fiction is worth more than a hundred writing workshops, for aspiring SF authors.

Image via OzSo

Seriously, if you want to write science fiction or fantasy, and you’re interested in learning how to capture the difficult niggly bits of people’s inner lives and their interactions with other people — then you absolutely must read Lessing, both her science fiction and her other stuff. We talk a lot about the importance of worldbuilding in making readers believe in the setting of your story — and Lessing was a master of drawing you into a world and making it feel urgent and real.

Lessing’s writing meant a ton to me, personally — I read her 1962 classic The Golden Notebook for a class when I was 18, and its trippy, intense take on subjects ranging from body-image anxiety to weird social interactions made a huge impression. The Golden Notebook is an astonishingly beautiful book, but it’s also intensely strange and jarring — Lessing takes the “novel of self-discovery” subgenre and twists it into strange, fascinating shapes.”

Will the new dress fit you like a lie?

It doesn’t matter if you seem depraved
It doesn’t matter how you roll your eyes
One fine day you’ll be in your own grave

What about the millions we have saved
Will God judge us with an eye still wry?
It doesn’t matter if you feel deprived

When you’re dead, you need  no bedded cave
No longer in deep sorrow will you cry
One  dark day, you’ll be in your own grave

Will it matter how much time we’ve saved?
Will the new dress fit you like a lie?
Noone else is worried   or dismayed

 

Don’t just stand there, get your eyebrows razed
Then wonder why the  midges  love the flies
One fine day we’ll share our bed with knaves

Is being human now an alibi?
What’s the crime and does God never lie?
It doesn’t matter if  the end’s delayed
One fine day we’ll   have our name engraved

I know now!

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Art by Katherine

I am having problems with my arm which is more painful.GOK when it will heal.Then if the lab gets a negative report I’ll have to have another operation.
On the upside, the terrible heat has gone…. so we’ll be moaning about autumn!
Humans….  never satisfied.
I didn’t know stitches didn’t always work  but as my husband used to say

Ye ken the noo.

[You know now]

Aye,I do.

Best poems about climate change

desert dunes hot landscape
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The Best Poems About Climate Change

A language of change by David Sergeant

AUSTRALIA, Melbourne.
 Photograph: Ferdinando Scianna/Magnum Photos

‘as late capitalism writhed in its internal decision concerning whether
to destroy Earth’s biosphere or change its rules’
– Kim Stanley Robinson

We’re sat by the ocean and this
could be a love poem; but that lullaby murderer
refuses each name I give it
and the icebergs seep into our sandwiches,
translated by carbon magic. And even this might be
to say too much. But the muse of poetry
has told me to be more clear – and don’t,
s/he said, for the love of God, please, screw things up.
Ambiguous, I didn’t reply; as we’re sat
by the ocean and I could make it
anything you wanted, for this moment
of speaking – but we have made it
something forever. Together
the weather
is a language we can barely understand;
but confessional experts detect
in the senseless diktat of hurricane
a hymning of our sins, our stupid counterpoint.
Love has served its purpose, now must be
transformed by an impersonal sequester
of me into the loves I will not see,
or touch, or in any way remember.
Perhaps it was always like this – take my hand,
horizon – ceding this land.