I really like this poetry..very much

I
Is this a young lady or an old one? The answer is it depends.Some see it as one,some another,If you wait it may suddenly flip.
You cannot see both at once.
I am thinking of this after  a hopeless discussion about the situation in Israel and Gaza.If people we speak to have one vision and we have another we don’t know this and we may get very angry with them as it is clear to us what we are looking at.
I am sure there are better ways of showing it but this conveys quite a lot of the meaning and the problems….. it depends in the above drawing what your brain selects from the possibilities..But we all see differently… nobody is right and nobody is wrong… or both are right in a way but cannot see the other image.what is the answer?
The only one I see is trust and that seems impossible just now…. yet we pray for an answer

All love at first, like generous wine, 
Ferments and frets until ‘tis fine; 
But  when ‘tis settled on the lee, 
And from th’ impurer matter free, 
Become the richer still the older, 
And proves the pleasanter the colder.
       – Samuel Butler

When they split the atom

Posted by Katecreates at 18:28 

Like fish dancing
in the warm ocean
we frolic in
the sea of love,
our bodies turning
and turning
around an invisible centre.
skin touches skin
gently like rose petals touch.
how do we speak
except by gestures
of the heart?
how do we know
except by loving touch?
Sea,infinite sea.
trusting the depths
giving ourselves away
with hands reaching
to touch again and again
Our medium is fluid,
no boundaries ,no edges,
washed here and there,
we paint our love
into being
our feelings the brush,
our hearts the canvas.
such impressions we make

He stifled all her connections.

He is full of wooden blunders.
What do you mean I’m always fate..I’m just your date?
He took me for a bride alright.
She said she was very experienced but that was just with cooking the books.Food,no!
This year it’s either a turkey or a Christmas pee.Start saving now.
Speak now or forever hold my teeth.
Cheat now or forever tin corned beef..
She rifled through his affections.
What is an anti-verb?
Does everything in life get lost except my arthritis?
Her disorder was compulsive order.. strange how good can be overdone.Total order only occurs when we are all dead and buried.. until they sell the house and some nutter moves in…so don’t kill your family just to make cleaning easier.I mean,what’s it all about?
In the end,love is all we need along with a little hate.And a job.And a few friends,some writing paper and a cat or two
He is a barely graced liar on a good day.
All that twitters ought not to have been told…
Do you like cooking? So you eat books then!
What a nice disguise.. I’ve been unfaithful to my husband with my husband.Is that a first?
It’s not unusual  for me to cry.. and it’s a way of cleaning my eyes

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. l

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 attachment styles below]

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 to trust if we have some friends who might point out our errors and our goodness if we trust enough to tell them.Or we may pretend to be hard and tough.Neither leads to virtue.If we trust God /Nature/The Unknown it may help but I believe we see God especially 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

http://psychology.about.com/od/loveandattraction/ss/attachmentstyle.htm

This author had a lot to say about perception… http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/obituary-marion-milner-1163951.htmlhttp://susannanelson.wordpress.com/2014/03/02/happy-go-lucky/

http://glimpsejournal.wordpress.com/2014/05/11/the-real-bees-knees-stunning-micro-view-of-the-workers-behind-your-mothers-day-flowe

midsummer days evoke the trance-like past

where children played in joyous, daisied fields

with buttercups so bright the memory lasts

a freedom that our conscious growth will steal.

those stones and leaves and many colored flowers

were gathered into images that glow

yet later we forget those treasured hours

when for a while we lived in life’s deep flow

we did not look and see,but felt at one

we lived as did the birds high in the trees

now we see and write yet experiencing has gone

we  forget to  live like flowers filled with bees

to lose ourselves in nature is a joy

which to our adult selves we must restore

I have grown so conceited I have begun following my own blog.

I am so  vain I never look in the mirror, to avoid temptation.

I like to stroke my own head but people may think I am narcissistic…If they can spell it.

I comb my hair only once every week to avoid disturbing the insects.They are my friends,in a very itchy sense.

If I am rude please tell me as I like to  learn  good manners now I’m too old to enjoy anything else except sniffing glue.

I am so kind I comb the cat’s hair as the hairdresser refused.Well,I get pleasure from it even if the cat doesn’t and  who  buys its food?

I  enjoyed the Latin Mass but they abolished it…what has the Pope got against me? I think he’s so selfish I’ll never confess my sins again,I’ll just enjoy them  or abandon them

[Art by my sister]

We were sitting as usual by the window
gazing at the wintry trees
You began to cry out;
The house is under attack,
A storm is coming .
The glass windows will shatter
We’ll be stabbed.
We’ll be injured
We’ll be killed I must get out

Looking out .I saw only the calm bare branches
Of the maple
And two wood pigeons in the fir tree
were chuckling to each other.
The wind had not changed.

I know it’s midwinter with the bitter
breeze with an edge to it like a knife.
The sun low like lemonade in an almost emptied glass.
Semding light through the forsythia onto the  bent old fence.

I turned to you puzzled
Reached out my hands to comfort;
But you shouted
Keep away
as you got your thick coat out
and ran from the back door right into the dark woods.

If there was real danger,why did you desert me?
Years later you told me of bad news you’d had.
Seemed like the inside and outside got confused.
I became a Fascist.I was a flaxen Anglo-Saxon.
I was Hitler’s grand-daughter.
I was a descendant of the Borgia Pope.
A witch , a demon, a torturer.
You believed that
I would break my glass; cut your face
with the jagged edges amd laugh
like  we once saw in a film.

Unlike in  science,
We can’t go back and repeat the experience
as if it were an experiment.
See if we were drawing the right conclusions

If you’d stayed a few minutes more
You might have realised
You were half asleep
And dreaming.
It was a daymare that escaped.

Once gone,you  never returned
To the house where it seemed the glass broke
into shards and cut you to shreds.
And a possessed woman loved you.
I don’t blame you
though I weep.
We are often deceived by our imaginations
We see not what’s here
But what we most fear.
And flee the human contact
Which alone might help.

I always leave the door ajar
And some food on the kitchen table;
In case you come back hungry and tired.
It was your mind that shattered,not the glass…
And that’s much harder to mend.
But it can be done
If you stop fighting.
And let the inner seas flow free.
You need a hand
But it also frightens you.
Besides, my hand is not strong enough to hold you.
Only to touch you gently
To say how sad I am