Month: December 2022

One amber eye now opens,mouth a-yawn

Limp with love and joy, the cat plays shawl
As my spouse is writing his new book
With warmth across his shoulders, clawless paws.

Nothing moves except the hand and  tail
Twitching in cat’s dream,miaows rebuke.
Limp in happiness the cat’s a shawl.

Males together,thought and work recalled
I stand in silence as I, greedy,look
Cat across his shoulders,paws and all

Each is real, the creative and its role
A sight creates an image  rich  yet meek.
Relaxed at last the cat play acts a shawl.

One amber eye now opens,mouth a-yawn
To be cat’s mother,I am sole recruit
The elongated cat’s in Newton’s thrall.

The trance breaks up,so I’m alone with doubt.
This empty room is theatre for the mute.
Limp with happiness, the cat still calls
From my love’s dear shoulders, gentle frail

 

 

Good will

Photo0071

Definition of WILLINGNESS [ from Merriam Webster]

Cheerful readiness to do something [ plus ditto to feel or be something]

Thinking about the significance of “willingness” , it comes to my mind that if we are asked to do something pleasurable we will not need urging.We will easily be willing unless we are masochists are have pressing needs that cannot wait.
So what is the significance of “willingness” when it relates to something unpleasant or painful we must do?
I can imagine one scene where I ask someone to do a small task for me and though they are busy they are “more than willing” knowing my circumstances.But I ask a different person and though they agree there is a grudging quality about their doing what I ask.
Tn the first case we all feel joy when we know someone will go out of their way to help us and in the second we feel uneasy about asking that person and neither side gains much from the transaction.

Now turn inwards and imagine that you wake up feeling in poor spirits and moreover you do not like this.That is, you are unwilling to feel the way you do.
In my experience being unwilling in that way makes the spirits worse. We have secondary anger or depression about our state which can only make it worse.
Now think of the term “acceptance”.We can easily imagine that if we can accept a situation we can deal with it better.So a wife who finds her husband’s hobby is studying maths in the evening is going to have a problem if she believed they would spend every evening chatting together.
The husband too has a problem that he may not have foreseen when he was madly in love.He has to work out how much time he needs alone with his abstractions or whether it is an excuse not to engage with his wife.
The wife who finds her husband genuinely needs to study for long hours or he is unhappy will have to consider whether she can accept this as a way of life or whether she should seek a better partner because nowadays women want to have their needs met too,
If she accepts it and adapts then she may be happy.A problem arises if she keeps up a war with her husband, criticizing and blaming him for his needs.I might say she can’t force him to talk to her as what value does it have when it is not spontaneous?
If people have good will towards each other then they can find a way of living and respecting the other.
If we have good will towards ourselves then we can accept and live with parts of ourself we do not like or parts which cause us suffering yet which cannot be changed and must be lived with.
If we don’t have good will towards ourselves then life is much harder as we attack ourselves with criticism and deprivation of love.
I think willingness or good will is crucially important in human life though no doubt I frequently forget it! Ill will directed anywhere outside or inside harms both parties or splits the self and causes deeper problems.
Of course, it is hard to be willing to suffer painful emotions but what choice do we have? Only to find the best way or at least
“to be willing to be willing”
as I describe it to myself.
Is willingness a virtue or a decision? Or an impossibility for some of us?

Wrap me in your light

As we lay together in the night
Open to the other and their gaze
We saw the spirit and its loving light

Now I dwell alone and out of sight
I miss  my other and his different ways
Did we rest together in the night?

Where’s the spirit,  I’m alone distraught?
Who can be the other to my face?
We saw the spirit, now I’ve lost its light.

God is  not a fish that can be caught
May contemplation  help  to loss erase
Did we dream together in the night?

Grace  to find one’s path as comes midnight
Dies irae, requiem  sauvage.
We saw the spirit and its loving light

What is night and where are my own days?
Can I  endure its  piercing  mental pain
As I lie alone at  dead of night
Send the spirit, enfold me in   light

Together alone

We were alone together
In this sitting room.
I would draw on my laptop,
While he had his head on the moon
We were alone ,together
Now I’m alone, alone.
I am studying poetry
Because he’s not on the phone.
We were alone together
As I sat by his bed.
He still didn’t speak but then he winked
As I laid my hand on his head.
I wish I could be with you
Together and not alone
I wish I could be with you
And you were not as cold as a stone.

People with unhappy childhoods are more likely to exhibit a fear of happiness, multi-national study finds

https://www.psypost.org/2022/12/people-with-unhappy-childhoods-are-more-likely-to-exhibit-a-fear-of-happiness-multi-national-study-finds-64533

It is worth noting that happiness can be defined in different ways,” the researcher added. “People are far more likely to be averse to emotional definitions of happiness (based on pleasure, fun, and positive feelings) than virtue-based definitions (based on finding meaning in life and fulfillment).”

The study, “Predictors

Light bulb

Ode to a lightbulb

Oh,light bulb foreseen by our God
Save us all from darkness’ rod
You are our Saviour as foretold
In prophecy by ancients bold.
We will worship you at night
When sunken is the sun so bright.
We’ll watch TV and Kindle fire
No more to play shall we aspire.
We’ll wear ourselves out watching screens,
As from a can we eat baked beans
We’ll send for pizzas with our phones
With which we never feel alone.
We might talk to our partner dear
Though to text is easier.
We see the neon street lights gleam
Where once we saw the moon’s cold beams
And in bed we read our books
With a kindle or a nook
We put beneath out pillows fair
I phones which we long to hear
Can one have too much new light?
From technology some take flight
For gone are seasons, and their fruit
As our computer we reboot.
New potatoes all year round
Avocados once quite rare
Now are seem ‘most everywhere.
Melons,grapes and fresh green peas
As the birds sing,life’s a breeze.
Oh light bulbs,fluorescent tubes
Electric candle, light is cubed.
We thank you for extended days
Maybe we’ll find time for prayers.
God is great in mystery
No light bulb can help us see.
In silence,darkness, meditate
Wonder what will be our fate.
As retribution for our wrong
Satan stabs us with his prongs
He needs no more light in hell
The fiery furnace cooks as well.

Because real knowledge will hurt.

2 apples

I don’t want to see reality
But I don’t want to lose your care.
I want to go on being selfish
And having you always there.

I don’t want to feel your feelings.
I am aware that I’ve been somewhat curt.
I want to go on ignoring you,
Because real knowledge will hurt.

The longer I pretend to be ignorant,
The longer I choose not to see,
The more I shall hurt my loved ones.
The more unkind and cruel I’ll be.

I don’t want to see reality.
I’m frightened of what I might find.
I am fearful of demons and devils
When I traverse the dark glades of my mind.

I am afraid to discover reality,
I am fearful of broadening my view..
I hope I can get enough courage
To be able to bear what is true

Satan will know

The doctor has put me on antidepressants.e

he said I was looking extremely unpleasant..

Its not yet immoral exactly I said

Since we are ready we should go to bed n

But what is the point of enjoying such lust?

Take me to heaven because I’m feeling bust.

He offered to marry me but I said no

I like adultery Satan and co

Low pay, no pay,double or quits

Only Jesus Christ

Could be called upon

To care for us

With no pay

And even then

We would still have killed him one day.

We can’t ask that human beings should be saints

Unless we start with ourselves.

What a picture that paints

If teaching is a vocation an I say it ain’t

Who will get the money you save

When I did it for nothing.

My retina was tortured into a million pieces

I’m no saviourette now

They were laughing all the way to the bank.

Whike I alone in my kayak sank.

This is no way to run a bank

Tips for When You’re Ashamed of Anxiety

https://psychcentral.com/anxiety/when-youre-deeply-ashamed-of-your-anxiety

D

https://162d9274da7bc803453012c1086a18e4.safeframe.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-40/html/container.html

Ashamed of Your Anxiety? 6 Ways to Lean into and Move Through It

Medically reviewed by N. Simay Gökbayrak, PhD — By Kimberly Drake — Updated on September 29, 2021

Feeling ashamed about anxiety is common, but there are ways to cope when feelings of humiliation creep up.

Man breathes through his latest episode of anxiety, which brought him shameful feelings

Share on PinterestWe Are/Getty Images

If you experience anxiety, you may feel easily embarrassed at anxious manifestations — what you say, or what you do. Know first that you’re not alone. Anxiety in itself is not a condition but a natural biological process. However, persistent anxiety may turn into a condition with more prevalent symptoms, and you can manage it with tools and support.

Perhaps you feel mortified after you’ve had a panic attack in public or when you cancel plans with friends at the last minute because of social anxiety.

Shame and anxiety don’t have to bog you down. There are ways to cope.

https://162d9274da7bc803453012c1086a18e4.safeframe.googlesyndication.com/safeframe/1-0-40/html/container.html

The intersection of shame and anxiety

Anxiety can cause more than just uncomfortable physical symptoms. It can also bring out unpleasant emotions such as guilt or extreme embarrassment.

An episode of anxiety or panic could lead to negative self-talk and worry about it happening again. This may exacerbate anxiety symptoms which can then spiral into an anxiety-shame cycle.

If you’re feeling this way, you may wonder: How do I deal with anxiety and shame?

They don’t need spies to find out what’s going on in the UK

We have had people reading here from Russia Ukraine China etc . I regret that our politicians and leaders can’t talk to each other so easily.

I suppose the Russian viewers might be looking at the blog in the hope of making some useful information but there is nothing useful in this blog about intelligence services, the army etc

But if any other country like Russia wants to know what’s going on in Britain they only have to look at at the fact that we have had 3 prime ministers this year to know what’s going on here and how the people are hungry and cold and cannot get to the hospital quickly with broken bones or strokes and that despite this since we have the pandemic the rich even richer than they were before Somewhere deep down they know they are doing something bad.

Shakespeare on winter

Winter is icummen in,
Lhude sing Goddamm,
Raineth drop and staineth slop
And how the wind doth ramm!
Sing: Goddamm.
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham.
Freezeth river, turneth liver
Damn you, sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, tis why I am,
Goddamm.
So ‘gainst the winter’s balm
Sing Goddamm, damm, sing Goddamm
Sing Goddamm, sing Goddamm,
DAMM.

Ezra Pound

Tags: seasons, time, winter

Virginia Woolf on Self-Knowledge and the Blind Spots of Sympathy – The Marginalian

https://www.themarginalian.org/2022/12/17/virginia-woolf-self-knowledge/

Challenging the dangerous allure of being perfectly understood and held in perfect sympathy — by others, or by ourselves — she writes:

That illusion of a world so shaped that it echoes every groan, of human beings so tied together by common needs and fears that a twitch at one wrist jerks another, where however strange your experience other people have had it too, where however far you travel in your own mind someone has been there before you — is all an illusion.

In a sentiment the poet May Sarton — who was half in love with Woolf — would echo in her abiding insistence on solitude as the seedbed of self-discovery, Woolf adds:

We do not know our own souls, let alone the souls of others. Human beings do not go hand in hand the whole stretch of the way. There is a virgin forest in each; a snowfield where even the print of birds’ feet is unknown. Here we go alone, and like it better so. Always to have sympathy, always to be accompanied, always to be understood would be intolerable

Now I need to  want to say goodbye

I used to know you loved me by your eyes
Not the eyes  of judgement cruel and  dark
 Yet I need to  learn to say goodbye

Every day  deserted lovers cry
Our eyes grow dim, they lose their living spark
I used to know you loved me by your eyes

You were full of humour, I can’t sigh
Remember swans, the  frozen lake, the park?
Now I need to  want to say goodbye

Like a lark, your soul flew to the sky
Near Studland Bay,  where small birds seem to talk
I used to know you loved me by your eyes

My tears fell like a  curtain from each eye
I could only see you in the dark
Now I need the will to say goodbye

Though not  violent, you have made your mark
We got into that  rhythm when we walked
I used to know you’d  love me till I died
Even after death, I feel you by.

 

May you reach the promised Land

 

I have loved you and I’ve held you.
Many years,you have been mine;
As the time has come for parting
Let’s embrace for one last time.

You know you have to leave me,
Though you desired a longer stay.
Let me hold you in my arms now
For just tonight and perhaps one day.

Then I’ll watch you travel on,sweet.
We take this last step all alone.
I’ll be here beside you watching.
I shall feel when you are gone.

May you accept, may you surrender.
May  you reach the promised land.
Into this earth my tears will fall, love,
As I recall your tender hands

Make it rechargeable

Why do you think it’s inappropriate for people over 70 just stay in bed all day if?

Please keep out. I got some sex toys for Christmas and I’m trying to put the cat to sleep 0.,

It’s not my fault I’ve got so many hormones in my body. I got the wrong prescription

The strange noise you can hear is my vibrator. I’ve lost it. (Double entendre()

If you find me dead rest assured that I enjoyed the last 15 minutes.

My will is in the drawer with the tablet.

No it’s not the original one. But it looks exactly the same.

Having rheumatoid arthritis schizophrenia and migraine could not deter anyone from  seeking a sexual partner why not send them a contact lens?

I don’t see why men should enjoy my body more than I enjoy it myself

I had heard of trial and error and then in the art class a retired physicist said that they used to call it trial and  horror during the war when they were studying radar .

,,

Is it illegal to put sex toys into Christmas stockings? Not to mention nuts.

I didn’t realise  how looks could kill until I saw your photographs 

Humour and poetry

img_20190510_163949https://www.poetryfoundation.org/harriet/2010/04/humor-and-poetry

Extract:

In 1993, I took a left turn one day out of my MFA program and found myself at the National Poetry Slam in San Francisco. There I discovered several poets who were funny for the sake of being funny. Particularly Hal Sirowitz from New York (“don’t stick your arm out the window, mother said” and Matt Cook from Milwaukee (“it was easy to write the Great American Novel, back when there were only five American novels”) Both poets initially delighted me and confounded me: There are no similes, a voice in my head said. What would Tom Lux (my first teacher) say? the voice continued. Despite my resistance, I believe those poets gave me a kind of permission to explore humor a little more vigorously in my second book, The Forgiveness Parade (1998), for “I thought the word loin and the word lion were the same thing. I thought celibate was a kind of fish”. Perhaps in that book there were places where I was too vigorous in my pursuit: looking back there are a few poems that are just a little too jokey somehow, a little one-dimensional.

I am becoming aware of how some humor can set a roadblock for the poetic speaker, making it impossible for the speaker to get back to a serious place. And how some other (less frequent) uses of humor can leave that door open. I want to leave that door open

Perhaps I’ll call the cat Tamara Jane

We fell into a rhythm as we walked
Arm in arm we wandered as we talked
We looked into folks’ windows  as dusk came
Tried to guess their furnishings and names

Some had nothing but the ironing stacked
Others  had the furniture we lacked
I bought a chest of drawers for three pounds
We had a double bed where our cat lounged

I bought a little table made of oak
Fifty pence at auction, go for broke!
A few old armchairs covered in green cloth
Too severe to be a home  for moths

Now I look at pictures on the walls
I see the sun turn mauve as down dusk falls
Images both simple and  robust
One a choice the other  nature’s lust

I see my sofa like a treasure ship
I lie upon  it dreaming  humorous quips
I  dream of journeys on the little train
That signifies  what sleep means to my brain

The rocking chair is empty of the cat
I see one in my garden, not my lap.
I try to tame this immigrant  I like
I shall give him food and call him Mike.

Oh,dear that is my brother, will he mind?
I know he loves the birds, and cats do bite
He is not living here in my old road
Otherwise he’ll hear me shouting “Claude”

Perhaps I’ll call the cat Tamara Jane
In case they’re very sensitive to names
For I know not the gender of the beast
They may be quite fluid  at the least

Now my husband cannot calm me down
I’d like his verdict on my new nightgown
But all I can remember is that rhythm
I fell into walking  out  with him

Your face has faded but you are still there

The face that was familiar is no more

The image in my mind has faded now 

You seem as distant as a falling star.

When you died,I felt my own heart tear.

If such pain and suffering allowed?

The face that was familiar is no more.

Can the well of  tears help the repair

Who will help me comfort me somehow?

You seem as distant as a falling star

Let the mourning people hear your prayer.

Help them from the lake in case they drown

The face that was familiar is no more.

In Blythburgh church we saw the angels stare.

Lift me up or I shall see them frown

As icy  cold as  any falling star

Before the Lord all beings need to bow.

I feel with love my heart is well endowed.

The face that was familiar is no more.

I will look up up.and see the host of stars.

The face that was familiar

The face that was familiar is no more.

The world we made  seems empty and remote.

I do not feel the love I felt before.

I’m homeless world-less, comfortless at core

Wandering like the Jews with death ripped coats.

The face that was familiar is no more

Why can this man’s life not be restored?

I cannot eat, a lump has blocked my throat

I do not feel the love I felt before.

In my nightmares, I look for a door.

Or I search the lake from my small boat

That face that was familiar is no more

I beg for grace like some abandoned whore.

That time itself evaporates is gross.

I do not feel the love I felt before

The well is empty,like my husband’s clothes.

When they are gone, what can I then propose?

The face that was familiar is no  more.

The love I lost can never be restored.

Wider than a star

The mind is deeper than a well  and wider than a star
I lose myself in waters deep ,symbolic ,sweet and clear
I rest embraced by this  love and wish for nothing more
I dream I walk in meadows sweet
The daisies in my hair

The heart has reasons and desires as if it were a  mind
If it’s soft as cashmere wool then it will remain  kind
Yet if it’s hard then it may crack and we will split ,divide
I dream I walk by river fleet
With  heart and mind combined

The other self that dwells alone in privacy divine
Needs sacred care and sweet respect and peace from what’s malign
The inner nature of   us all is   given and then transformed
I dream I walk on long white sands
By seas blue crystalline.

I pushed  my sisters up our quiet street

I remember riding on his back
It was summer; I was only two
He had an old tweed jacket full of smoke
Woodbines, they would probably kill you too

Walking with my sister in her pram
Mam looked as happy as a summer lark
My brothers were pretending to be soldiers
We walked along, right into the deep dark

A few years later Dad was sat there crying
They never told me he was very bad
Eight years old, I pushed the baby
My sister walked while clutching at my side

I was worried Grandad would be angry
Seeing us three coming up the lane
We usually went there only at the weekend
On, on, on, went my brain

Going back home it was the evening
The sun had gone ,time to go to bed
I pushed my little sisters up our street
Auntie told me Daddy was now dead

No more rides on his thin shoulder
No more walking in the flowery park
Only the anguish of our feelings
Only children weeping in the dark