Plato caves in

Watching Plato shining torches into blackness,
Wandering through the galleries,
Sepia paintings of pines,
Pain came to the emptiness once my heart,
I sat picturing screaming Popes and babies.
Eastward, looking for fresh instruction,
My mind unpleated,like a pair of curtains
~Hung out to dry in equinoxal gales.
The bells of Satan’s cell phone
Rang again,startling in this silence.
“You had your smear done yet?”
“It’s me,hinny”
“I’m drinking coffee here in “Costa’s.”
Then I awoke,a man appeared.
How apposite,I need you,Ludwig!
I can’t fly my kite.

In the Science Museum,the mirror cracked
And from it stars flew out,
Adorning cars and bicycles and buses.
The building gently fell into its own reflection.
People flew out like gasping rockets,
Illuminating the blankness,
Calling “Is today the day?.”

A song, a little laugh

A howling bone dithers none the less.
What can’t be lured must be indifferent
It’s a song way to Tipperary.
Silent Plight,Holy Quite.
Have you  ever seen above my ploys?
Too many rooks rolled  up the bypass to caw.
See amid the sinners flow here on  earth we sing,oh,no.
I don’t know where I’ve seen you adore.
Send me a  twitter soon and I’ll be on board  sound.
Come into these belly sands.
This is the end of the code.
I shan’t slope on.
Go

Is this a part of it?

I say to myself,what a blunder filled world.
Silent bite,holy spite.
It’s the wrong way to Tipperary.
Back up your troubles. in your old knit bag with our new app.
There’ll be blue words over the white stiffs of Dover.
This is the war that blend all wars and then adds more.
When they bombed Neasden,it was the wrong way to go
Friendly liars killed troops on board a warship.
Sing something dimpled
I like lieder,he likes lieder,yay yah yoh,yoah,more.
Singalong for the truce to come

I’m a number,Jack,I sneer all day.
We wronged thee,see the woe.
Oh.little town of Bethlehem divided by the Wall
Jesus wants me for a fruitcake.
It’s wrong to see thee so
It’s numb,all ye faithful.
I tested till declase,day class dateclass

We used this word  I spelled declase when I was a child… it means tired,overworked,mind can’t continue… anyone heard that before?I have never heard others use it,only my family

How could you leave me?

You smiled at me and then you disappeared

Flying skyward with no hint of fear

Stunned and left behind,I wept with shock

Deprived by death of one last lingering look

No kiss, no word of love,no last embrace

No colour and no pinkness in your face

I saw you fly as fast as hawks at prey

I held you in my heart ,I felt dismay

How could you leave me when I need you so

Could you not remain till I to go?

Death is sad,mysterious,unknow

Once lovers all complete and now alone

Silently at last we take the pain

We’re burnt by love and loss, that dual frame


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I may be some time

How hard for you to learn you cannot stay

No longer with your grandchild can you play.

The future you imagined cannot be.

My eyes are blind with tears I cannot see.

You who’ve been my sister for so long

No longer in this world will you belong.

I did not think that you would go so soon

You to whom my soul is well attuned

Sometimes lost things can be bought again

This is how we guard ourselves from pain.

However rich we are we cannot pay

To get another sister any way.

We lose our keys, we lose our little hearts

Money beauty, health just for a start.

You will not look at me you have to go

You put your coat on, stride into the snow

On forgetting we are using metaphors

KatherinereflectionsThinkings and poems  March 24, 2016 4 Minutes

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The most obvious confusion between metaphor and reality is when society labels emotional/interpersonal problems/divergence from norms of society as mental illnesses.I
n the USA childdhood disobedience is now a mental illness and there are many similar crazy notions.Homosexuality was labelled as a mental illness for years but no longer.
Now if you are suffering terrible anguish in various forms it may help to be told it is an illness… or it may make you worse.I am sure that often excess fatigue,personal characteristics like overworking constantly,not eating well,being distressed by the state of the world are very common but there are no blood tests nor any other tests to identify such as being illnesses.Though often physical illnesses casuse mental distress and depression either directly or because of shame and anxiety and other reactions to being ill for a long time.
The writer Thomas Szasz identified this confusion many years ago.If you disagree and say how can medication help unless a person is ill then I’d say that the placebo effect is one reason and another is that if someone is exhausted and needs to rest then medication maybe helpful to give them a little peace.
Gerard Manley Hopkins,A Jesuit priest and a poet seemed to be given a job in an Irish University which was exhausting and debilitating but owing to his vow of obedience to his superiors in the Jesuit Order he could not change his life except by dying… so he thought.
The poet Gwyneth Lewis who has been the National Poet for wales wrote a book[Sunbathing in the rain] about her severe bout of depression.In the book she seems to be claiming that there were personal mistakes and decisions in her lifestyle and job which led her into depression.She saw it as necessary for change.However she did use medication in spite of feeling it was a spiritual turning poimt which she needed to get back onto her true path or vocation in life.
Her mother had been depressed frequently when she was a child and so she would have learned this as a way of problem solving.
Also despite her immense intelligence she had failed to realise that abandoning her strong hopes to have a child [given the age of her husband and the need to earn a living] was going to cause her huge distress.In fact marrying someone who has been sterilised seems unusual for a young woman who wants children.But it is sometimes reversible and maybe she didn’t think so far ahead.
This blindness to our own feelings seems to lead many of us astray.
We sometimes get clues to our hidden feelings in dreams or we could find someone to talk to when going through a major life decision.
Some people don’t know that grief and mourning exist and are stunned when they feel sad and often their families criticise them for “not coping well” Coping here seems to mean remaining happy and calm all the time;this is a selfish demand on a bereaved person or anyone really.
I also noticed over the years that many famous people suffered from depression but when you examine their lives they seem to demand too much from themselves and be afraid to ask for help
.Poor Sylvia Plath wanted to be famous which she is now but alas she is dead. It’s hard to know why she felt the need to work so hard except her upbringing was one where acadenic excellence was valued and why she married someone with no obvious way of providing support either financial or emotional… when it got tough he ran off… but who knows why? The point that interests me is that she was compulsively driven to achieve… and she did so much in her short life… but was it worth it?
We all need to examine our life to see if we are acting stupidly.
But when worn out mentally it seems thinking is a mistake whereas simple manual work is beneficial as is being outdoors or being with kind undemanding friends…. and if a person has few friends coping with emotional trauma is much harder.This affects people who move to another state or country.And older people moving house even can bring on mental confusion.
And if we are people who find friendship and intimacy hard then it’s likely that we will suffer more from any problem we run into.
Finally,is the idea of a vocation for each of us of value?We each have unique gifts plus a need to earn a living.It depends on many factors outside our control whether we can find a job that combines these.Many poets and writers work in menial jobs to earn a living and then they write at night.[Teaching seems to sap creative energy.]
Other people don’t feel they have a calling but train for something they feel will earn a living in a way that suits them.Electricians and plumbers are in great demand…
And apart from finding our own true needs we need to contribute to society in some way.And to have a feeling of enjoying being alive which is perhaps denied those millions in Asia who make our clothes,i phones and other goods.

7 Mindfulness-Based Strategies to Stop Spiraling into Despair

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/07/07/well/mind/mindfulness-practice-doomscrolling.html

Following nonstop news in an era of gun violence, war and political divide can become overwhelming. And amid our many ongoing challenges — the pandemic, climate change, economic uncertainty — it’s understandable to feel sad, angry and anxious.

As a clinical psychologist who specializes in giving people the tools to cope with intense emotions, I know how difficult it can be to remain positive — or simply balanced — while caring deeply about our world. Some of my clients say they can’t stop doomscrolling, others engage in unhealthy behaviors to tune it out and many bounce between the two extremes.

But it is possible to anchor yourself if it feels as though you’re slipping into despair about the state of the world. I rely on these seven mindfulness-based strategies for myself and my clients to stay grounded.

If you can precisely label the emotion you’re experiencing in the moment, you can reduce its power in your body and brain. Name whatever emotion you are feeling, whether it is sadness, fear, anger, disgust

And looking at the world with gratefulness

The dead flowers in the vase have their own charm
They have their form, their shape, their wistfulness
What is dead no longer does us harm

Thus being dead is no cause for alarm
There is no need to suffer loneliness
The dead flowers in the vase have their own charm

As they age, they look like a dead palm
The sort we got in church had comeliness
What is dead no longer does us harm

The secret of good lives is keeping calm
And looking at the world with gratefulness
The dead flowers in the vase have their own charm

Meditation on dead flowers is balm
We fear no longer our own death’s fullness
What is dead no longer does us harm

Waste not time in hateful wilfulness
We sing with love our own dawn choruses
The dead flowers in the vase have certain charms
What is dead no longer may alarm