https://www.themarginalian.org/2014/07/18/adam-phillips-on-risk-and-solitude/

And it came to pass that they ate their dinner
and that she did washeth up.
And she did leave the dishes to drain
Whilst she put on the washing machine.
and the man was very pleased.

And it further came to pass
that she gave the man some pudding
and he was more pleased.
And then it came to pass the he fell asleep
By the fire.

And the Lord God,said
Who is this man that sleepeth by his fire?
And He said,I shall waken him up
And the man awoke,
And God spake unto him

How is it that the woman laboureth in ye kitchen.
And that thou sleepeth here in an armchair.
And the man said,
But Thou didst order women to labour.
And the Lord God said unto the man
Why dost thou remember so selectively what I have said?
And the man said,
I knoweth not and therefore I will help this woman.
And the Lord God said,
Why dost thou not think of it thyself?
And the man said in reply,
It was Thou that made me,O God.

And the Lord God was displeased with the man.
so he called down a plague of butterflies
To prevent him from sleeping.
And when the woman came in
she was much pleased to see these butterflies
and so she fell onto the man
And he did make love unto her.
And the cat was very pleased.

For it thrilled a cat to watch humans loving
and gave him hope
That the Lord God would take his rib and make a mate for him.
And indeed it doth seem to have happened
Judging by all the cats staring in ye old window here;
And by their ecstatic yelps
That the Lord God was very generous with them
and made them many mates.
For truly there is no jealousy among them
And they mate freely and happily
and never have rows about the washing up..
as they eat straight from the can.Amen

Here endeth today’s lesson.
Be thou kind to thy mate always

I wish we were on Easby Moor again

Or looking down the hill of Hasty Bank

The feel of scented flowers where we had lain

We closed our eyes and into bliss we sank

I wish we were near Saltburn on the sands.

I wish we were near Redcar on the coast.

The butterflies, the seagulls and the Band

Your mother liked the sea and sand the most.

Your father liked the hills and heather moors.

You were torn between them, now you’re gone

Your mother bough some honey for her store

Breathing northern air my loving one

When we got to Stamford you were low

Suburban London where no waters flow

I wish we were in Cleveland on the hills

We have to work in London for the bills.

The path on Arnside Knott came to the shore
Where sea and river meet at my heart’s core
Where wild flowers grow, where butterflies float on.
The views of Lakeland Hills ,so ravishing

My heart was only half alive till then
The land surpassed imagination
I was used to mills and dirty air
Despite the heather moors and hilltops bare

Later death came near on Langdale Pike
My fingertips were hurting,feet agape
Then my toe was back on a foothold
The shadow of the mountain huge and cold

Beauty,love and death, the opera calls
Singing as we walk the danger walls

https://www.themarginalian.org/2023/04/11/masud-khan-lying-fallow/

I suspect our ability to ask the unanswerable questions that Hannah Arendt knew are the heartbeat of civilization is intimately related to our capacity for dwelling in a particular state of being beyond the realm of our compulsive doing. Bertrand Russell called it “fruitful monotony.” Adam Phillips called it “fertile solitude.” Walt Whitman called it “loafing.” The Buddhist tradition describes it simply as presence. Whatever we may call it, amid a culture of filling the existential void with cultish productivity and an endless stream of dopamine-laced distractions, it is nothing less than a countercultural act of courage and resistance to enact such states of being — states in which our inner voice becomes audible, the voice with which we sing the song of our lives.

The Pakistani-British psychoanalyst Masud Khan (July 21, 1924–June 7, 1989) calls this mode of being “lying fallow” and unfurls its psychological tendrils in a short, brightly penetrating essay included in his 1983 collection Hidden Selves (public library).

00

Check out this video from this search, Nicholas Winton This Is Your Life https://share.google/KE2YklTJoyvdcrzqG

I do not think it’s a good idea for people to tmbe segregated by age. To my surprise I have discovered that it is a very modern development beginning with the industrial Revolution says that ultimately would lead to older people being put into homes so the the younger adults could work in factories and mills and coal mines. and now it’s gone even further to use women in the workforce it’s become almost normal for even the mothers of young babies to go back to work in a few weeks. you might you could explain that by the price of houses but it isn’t just that. they want to get all the adults between let’s say 16 and 70 into work so the children and the babies are with childminders or schools and the old people are in homes like leopards on the edge of the community cared for by lowly paid women sometimey show a great deal of love. personally I found it very difficult being in a place with several demented people because they do not have enough staff to give them the care they need and it serves a nasty message to the to the ones who haven’t got dementia look what happens to people like you. on the positive side or I can say is please visit your old relatives because I have observed that being a visited by a family member makes it very bigt difference to them. the symptoms of dementia are not static and anything that makes them relaxed or happy will reduce the symptoms. Don’t just throw us away like an old glove

age flowers identities loss love old people Poem self

Comments

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Now my bones are worn away

I disappear like Moths at day

My eyes hate sun, my ears are blocked

My senses dim,my mind half cocked.

Yet with the eye inside my mind

I see quite clearly what is fine.

I see the evil in men’s eyes

As to the poor and old they lie

A man who has to praise himself,

Is quite devoid of inner Wealth

A man who says that he’s the best

Will burn in hell instead of rest.

And we might twist our eyes and lie

And call this man your majesty.

The old have nothing left to lose

Except give up their power to choose.

My day is almost done, goodbye

Satan screams as Jesus dies

,

1 Fell off writers’ block into a pit of tigers.Bad layout.
2.Strangled by over-loving cat.

Verdict: guilty

3.Large bottle of ink bounced back off wall . thus broke skull.Suicide denied by dead man or wife as appropriate [Delete one]

4 Forgot to eat while writing long novel.Was not worth it

5 Forgot to sleep owing to inspiration.Stupid despite possessing unique genius

6.Killed by malfunction of new laptop.[Can be returned to Amazon free when body is removed]

7.Tried to meditate and fell out of the window. Oriental death
8 Tried to clean outside of the window with a microfibre cloth.A pane broke and cut his throat.Incidental death
9 Got depressed by lack of air.Jumped and lost balance killing two cats on the patio.Verdict Unfair
10.Thought he was sleepwalking and walked off roof of extension [only just completed].Insurance will be paid.
11.Fainted in church and was used as a human sacrifice.Jesus wept
12 Hit head on bannister while falling down the stairs.Euthanasia while dizzy.Resurrection imminent
13.Fought off wife but bitten by the dog .Both dead.Verdict, pointless end.
14 Wrote a best seller, got drunk and died of shock!
15 His website was declared a threat to humanity.Died of shame.

My husband was in the hospital and he tested positive for  TV

That’s all right you can turn him on whenever you like

The surgeon drained my knee with a lozenge. Or was it a Syrian?   I wish I’d learnt to read when I was blunder

Did they put a primula in the back of your hand first?

She said your knee is twice the normal size, are you in any discomfort?

I knew my stockings were too tight, so I said, no.

She said, you don’t seem to realize the toll this is taking on me.

So I suggested she should change her job.

I was having a problem  distinguishing between myself and other people.

She said, all this pain is bad for you. Would you like a morphine patch on your shoulder?

I said, what about putting it on my bladder I would really like that better

She said I’ve never been so consulted in my satired life. You have to put the patch on your skin on top of some blood vessels

So I said, what about putting it over my heart?

Maybe you could inject it right into my heart directly.

That will be assisted dying and it’s not even legal yet so I will be committing murder.

I didn’t realise morphine was so dangerous. And it can make you feel depressed as well as killing you

Have you noticed now that nearly all the doctors are women and they work part-time and they tell you at 8:00 p.m. in A&E,

stop talking because I’ve got children working for me at home.

Is it my fault if they employ foreigners as  underage slaves?

Anyway I think I might be going deaf when I recover from all my ailments I  have to go to the doctor and say

I can’t hear you

And she will shout

What?

Modern slavery in Britain a serious things l

By the way there are people here we brought from Africa tempted by the offer of money and they are working as carers being paid the minimum wage and their own money to the company that brought them over claiming they needed it for their visas.

It’s a form of modern slavery in my opinion and it’s disgusting I have met some of them and they are lovely people some are qualified teachers and other professionals

The poverty in their home country is great and the life expectation is not very long but this is no reason to exploit them.

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m002m00c

Waxy flowers poking through
Snow so white
Flowers so bright.
Made me think of you.

I see once more your just washed hair,
Soft as snow,
On pillow.
Now my bed is bleak and bare

,
Face alight,flower to sun,
I loved you.
Love so true.
Fear by love,overcome.

Cyclamen in the snow,
Pink and red,
Now frozen,dead.
Love was,oh,so long ago.

But never gone from in my mind.
Thoughts so deep,
Upwards seep.
Love was gentle,love was kind,

Always in my mind

Why did Jesus walk on the water?

He never learned to swim

Why did Jesus feed the 5,000?

That was the biggest number they could think of when writing the New Testament

Why did Jesus cross the road?

Because the other side was flatter.

Why do we learn arithmetic in school?

To escape from the quicksands

Why do we have to learn to read in school?

Because it would be boring in school with nothing to do

So you can go on the internet on your phone and get into trouble arguing on political forums.

Who could have been the first person who learned to read?

It must have been the first person who invented writing because until there was writing there couldn’t be any reading

Did Adam and Eve have a library?

Nobody could read what God had written.

Did Cain and Abel go to a comprehensive school?

Well it didn’t teach comprehensive morals did it?

What would God think of  VAT on private school fees?

Jesus didn’t need to go to school.

Why are rich people averse to paying more tax?

Because they don’t want to get through the eye of the needle.

If you are forced to give money to the poor it’s not an act of virtue.

Well it still helps the poor though.

In Finchley there was an old man

Who kept all his eggs in a pan

He said, don’t use a basket

The hens will not trust it

And then all will not go to a plan

Oh dear hen will you lay in a basket?

No sir I will lie in a casket.

Please do not die.

I shall tell you no lies.

You may go to hell, so don’t risk il

2

Children don’t know hens lay eggs

And sausages are made out of pigs.

If folk know too much

Sharp anxiety will clutch

Especially when served with ducks’ legs.

There’s an epidemic of loneliness in western society.

All of our messages emails WhatsApp messages etc etc all verbal all words but  in the end it’s the presence of others that we miss. Someone to be silent with?

When we are alone and lonely we feel that the presence of others will help sometimes however when not fit to be alone with ourselves we are not fit to be in the company of other people either.

This is a dreadful form of loneliness.

Ironically when we’re fit to be with others we are also happy to be alone

But the strange thing is if we talk to someone on the phone it doesn’t help totally because what is missing is the company the presence The silence from words but the presence to the whole person.

This is why I don’t believe that phone counseling will help you as much as being in the presence of the counsellor and the evenim if you don’t talk in your session you still experiencing the company of another person who might be more patient than your family and friends.

Too much talking too many words written or spoken all of these can be damaging.

I don’t agree with banning books but I can see the damage that some books and other forms of writing have done

My sister’s eyes were sea green and deep

Like pools in the Irish sea off the coast off Anglesey.

Moelfre where she swam ,despite the cold,

Like a small seal.Night times I told her stories,

She lay and dreamed them till schooltime

But we grew beyond my storytelling

When adolescence drew us apart.

Years later

As I sat with her child

At my knee,

Weaving stories for her

Around the Russian horse

From the antique shop in Aldeburgh,

I saw my sister leaning towards us,

Her green eyes full of long-lost yearning.

I realised she was still my loving little sister,

From long, so long ago, her green eyes,

In the deep caves of her inner sea ,filled with longing.

I felt she wanted to get back

Into the magic circle

Of the arms of the mother we

No longer had to hold us.

So, I took her inside my heart,

And hold her  there always

Dearest sister how I miss your eyes

Grey green as the sea as up it rides

In the sadness of the water as it sighs

In the squelching of the sand beneath the tide

Sister dearest sister I’m alone

I miss your quiet voice I miss your face

I cannot reach you now by telephone

But loving memories are not erased

Last year you came to visit me at home

You  filled my fridge with food you were so kind

Now I feel the sadness in my bones

I only see you here within my mind.

The inner seas are wild they moan with grief

Time goes slow, we weep, we are bereaved

It was only Mee

You certainly get your wordsworth from my blog.

The beach was way too shelley for me on Saturday.

I hate eyre so much,I never want to see eyre again. Otherwise Jane.

Shakespeares somewhere else please.

I hughes the royal mail sometime.

I spender money often and she is ok with that.

My book is jew to be published in the spring.

I wish the leaves did not russell.

I do like a whitehead of eyre.

She’s too austen-tashius for me.

My baby was over jew but he war fein after birth.

I want a War on peace .

I don’t get the Tolstoy eyrie.

I hope to make a prophet this year or the next..

I don’t noah at all,just crossed plaths with her now and then

I saw him last eve or defoe yesterday

Mary’s eyre’s amazing since it was trimmed.

I want to Reed the reel Hebrew ribald soon.

I wrote my last will in the Old Testament.It’s out of Tate now

I believe in tragic.

It’s a tolstoyrie. What I believe in..

Dostoyevsky………I can’t even spell it.

Tell a lie if you Khan. What about , pilates?

Nobody asked you to Pontius

Sylvia,there was method in her sadness.

My sister went to pilates but she said who is going to Pontius?

I never cared when evelyn swore.

Mantels masterpiece confabulation

https://www.google.com/search?q=butterfly%27s+wing+effect&oq=butterfly%27s+wing+effect&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUyBggAEEUYOTIICAEQABgWGB4yCAgCEAAYFhgeMggIAxAAGBYYHjIICAQQABgWGB4yCAgFEAAYFhgeMggIBhAAGBYYHjIICAcQABgWGB4yCAgIEAAYFhgeMggICRAAGBYYHjIICAoQABgWGB4yCAgLEAAYFhgeMggIDBAAGBYYHjIICA0QABgWGB7SAQg5MzIxajBqN6gCFLACAfEFFl6TiZe73XA&client=ms-android-motorola-rvo3&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8

Do good and move on (from those who hurt you)

The little  words invented as we loved
Now have no other  speaker but myself.
Lost,unique, the man  whom I once loved,
These humorous  words came from our deep, sweet love.
In my tongue , these words no longer live
I  cannot  use  our words, our loving  wealth.
The chosen  words  invented as we loved
Now have no other   listener but myself

I wish my heart were made of iron or steel

I could be alive but never feel.

Made of glass my heart could crack and break

My tongue would fail my mind make its mistakes

A plastic heart could deal with feelings cheap

But such heart could never hold the deep

Shall I freeze and turn to metal strong

But then I could not love or not for long.

Which is worse to bleed and suffer pain

Or turn to steel and never feel again?

I cannot choose I do not know what’s worst

May our human hearts survive uncursed

Come back to me, my sweetheart
Don’t leave me all alone.
Come back to me, my darling
I can’t believe you’ ve gone.
I’m crying ‘cos I’m feeling blue again.
I’m crying’cos I’m falling like a stone.

Oh, let me tempt you with my beauty
And my voice forever young.
Let me tempt you with my spirit
My laughter and my songs.
I’m crying ‘cos I never did you wrong.
I’m crying ‘cos with you I  still belong.

I thought maybe I’d follow,
To see where you have gone
But there’s a hand upon this tiller
That is not mine alone.
I’m crying ‘cos I wrote this old blue song.
I’m crying ‘cos I’ve been lonely for too long.

The hand upon my tiller
The mystery of the dark
The unknown one who lives in me
And sings like a skylark.
I’m singing ‘cos I wrote you a new song.
I’m singing ‘cos the cat ain’t got my tongue.

The dentist wants to charge in advance in case I die in the chair

Surely it’s not electric.

Not the first time apparently.

Is it not murder?

I don’t know I’ve never been murdered.

Have you ever commited suicide?

Why, have you?

I have not.

I am thrilled

I didn’t know you cared.

I am shy

That’s one way of describing it

What do you mean?

Some of us thought you were conceited.

About what?

I can’t recall.

Are you demented?

Just argumentative.

I hope you are soon at peace.

Is it far away?

No it’s here if we are.

I feel you’re right.

You can feel me all over.

Are you a rash?

No, an allergy.

I don’t like Greece.

I saw you frying bread.

But not licking the pan.

I lick the pen

When the voices demand

Stop listening.

Alright

What ?

They are like some other beings altogether the cry more animal than human The wordless pathos, musical,disturbing They have gone back to a troubled and unimagined infancy but no mother responds to such a nightmare of overgrown voice boxes the cry of a rabbit wolf in a trap it’s the shriek in the wall cry of a baby in a psychotic nightmare. Nicholas haunts Sylvia in the evocative memory of Ariel And so it will end for you and me Trapped in this old body with its old brain on and on they cry help me, help me,help me nurse nurse I want the manager I want the manager I don’t want to be here I don’t want to be here I want to go home Help me we don’t listen because they have dementia what they say has no meaning. that’s our defence I am the norm You are abnormal but you smiled when I asked you if you would like your hair dyed pink and I know you love the music therapist. Your smell repels Alas Is this where Jesus dwells If you did this to the least of my little ones, you did it to me. We you haven’t forgotten about Eros you are still hoping to find love you are not dead yet but you can’ wait to go home Published by Katherine

age grief love Poem

Comments

Its horizontal fur like wire

The black cat runs, climbs fences

Dances on the roof of the shed

Hides in the forsythia branches, like a demented child

My hair cut that way I could pass for 23.

The cat runs up the seesaw, its teeth gleaming like an advert for Colgates’

Back up the seesaw, the little devil flashes green eyes like old marbles iced with frost

Now he wants some money he says.

He’s just a stand-up comedian nowadays.

Are you allowed to have four legs?

I don’t know what God would think

But does he even think?

The black cat laughs and I say would you like to borrow my hair dryer for a blow dry.

But you can’t blow dry wire!