…these thoughts progressed from previous post Future Fear.
If my thoughts and feelings don’t define me
Who am I then?
Decades spent living within my head,
To not be caught up in that
To not be entangled by inner monologue
Is as foreign a concept as living on an alien planet
Who am I then?
Perhaps the question is irrelevant
Who will I be then?
Perhaps I will be able to find myself
Able to consider and explore options
Discover parts of myself that were cowering,
Fearful of the snarling future
Who will I be then?
I will be
Who I am now
Deep down inside
All that which makes me
All the humanness will survive
How will I be then?
I will let go of the confusion
And the distracting static
All of the sticky,
Brain path clogging,
I will find myself
In my choices of relationship
In my clear thoughts
In the little decisions I make,
Every moment choosing,
Who I want to be.
[ image from Facebook, original source unknown ]
Trying to find a place
Don’t know where it is
Or what it looks like
But I will know it when I get there
A place of understanding
Of sharing myself
And being acknowledged
Loved just as I am
A place I can cry
Express all the emotion
Hold nothing back
Feeling safe to do so
It’s a big ask. Meanwhile
Looking for tiny corners
Fragments of this place
To let out a fraction of me
Searching amongst the words
And with online encounters
Friends who will communicate
Randoms and soul-sisters
And i find…
There seems to be
No one destination
Only brief havens along the way
Still, I long to feel safe enough
To be with myself
To Love, and accept myself.
[ can we crowd-source a place where everyone will feel safe and loved? ]
Feeling. (part I) When I don’t understand.
Questioning my ability to feel
When my Dad’s death doesn’t bring tears
Even 2 years later, the grief hurts terribly
But all the pain is internally focussed
Dry eyes, show no outward signs
My marriage is also those dry eyes
The pain of missing emotions
The grief of an unfulfilling relationship
When did I stop feeling passion there?
(A few years ago now)
Present life is mostly these pains
Internal. Physically and mentally disrupting
Outwardly, only my words can express
Some of the heartache and headache.
Feeling. (part II) When I remember.
When our white rabbit died
I held Miss Madeline as her life drained away
And in the car afterwards I cried heavily.
For about eighteen years
I maintained passionate attraction to my wife
(Despite rarely feeling equal passion returned).
When close friends show me love
A strong hug, a kiss,
walking arm in arm
It brightens my day and warms my heart.
Reminding myself this way, that I do feel
Leaves me thinking, if I could just
feel the grief in a more practical way
Maybe I wouldn’t get stuck there.
Poem illustrated using a photograph by Marah Weston.
I hear the world around me
The radio on
A rabbit hopping into the litter tray in the laundry
Another rabbit munching on fresh vegetables under the coffee table
The kitchen clock ticking away, a metronome to my life
And I hear other experiences
The tuned static deep in my ears, ever-present tinnitus.
The almost silent but perceptible negativity, self-criticism, in my brain.
With my eyes closed, thoughts of today swirl around
Do I keep pushing into the day?
Do I curl up in bed again and rest this weary body?
Trying to avoid the inevitable pain of my life.
I dreamt I was a psychic healer. I could play music using the brains of the group I was working with. I could control the whole room of people – those that were willing to participate. The more willing, the more I could effect them.
I could step them through time, backwards (and back to the present, but not forwards) and up/down, making adjustments if there was an external interruption or something untoward happened. In one hand I used a wooden stick (like a chopstick) and in the other a wire stroker (a slightly reshaped head massager). Using these tools and the groups psyches, I would play music that some of the group found achingly beautiful, while for others it soothed their soul.
If someone shared their innermost problem, I could work it away. I used the energy inherent in the group and boosted it with the additional energy shared/contributed by some more willing/energetic participants.Everyone in the room was a willing participant. Those that became not were instantly sent back home with the flick of my wrist.
When participants weren’t settling, I would just stroke over their head with the wire massager and intent, to bring them into the group focus and quiet participation. One participant I sensed they simple needed a boost of energy, so I held their body for just a moment while the flash of energy flowed through them, until I leaned them back in their chair, eyes closed, smiling, in bliss for a time. Other participants, I would heal a great trouble in their mind, such that they felt a complete change in their life.
[ a fresh record of my very powerful dream experience just before waking up this morning ]
Focussing on the now
While working forwards
A momentary break in concentration
Reveals the pressure behind me
Dark and unfriendly
I’m aware of it,
baffled by it,
but cautioned by its presence
If I look too closely,
it draws me in,
suddenly spiraling downwards.
Jumping back from the depths,
I find myself teetering on a precipice.
With a little encouragement from A I have decided to dive into Ten Things of Thankful.
- I am thankful for Deborah responding to my Poetry picture shared on FB (the one about hidden pain) and letting me know she connected with it and offering a listening ear.
- Thankful for Lisa for letting me share a brunch order with her (of GF toast, poached eggs, bacon, avocado) so that I would know she had some proper food today and not just coffees.
- Thankful for my sister-in-law Julia texting through a picture of her daughter enjoying the birthday present she received today, in my absence. The card had my name on it as well, even though I had precious little involvement in the present acquisition.
- Thankful for seeing our pet rabbit Mr.Poppy asleep on his side in the DBP (dead bunny position) for much of this warm Sunday afternoon. An indication of his comfort and relaxed state, despite his ageing body (he is officially a Senior rabbit) and progressing arthritis. And also thankful for him letting me stroke his sleepy head and remain relaxed and snoozing on two separate occasions.
- Thankful for friends like Abbie and Lisa that encourage me to focus on the positives and partake in such Adventures as this TToT writing challenge. I’m halfway there and fourteen minutes has passed, so I’m on track for a relatively quick write-up today :D
- I am thankful for Lisa meeting me for a coffee and chat on this Sunday-that-I-needed-for-myself. Despite her own struggles with depression coinciding with mine this week. I am thankful particularly that through her sharing and words reminding me how important a person I am, reminding me how much I am cared for, reminding me how the screwed-up mental illness chemistry just fooks with one’s perception of reality.
- Is that two there? If I have trouble later on, I can break that last one down into two, right? So this has to be a proper one, a big one, my brain says. A challenging one. A God-its-so-hard-to-admit-to-myself-or-anyone-else one. Thinks… lets the pressure go, keep the intuition on hand… I am thankful that my wife loves me. Still. After everything we’ve been through. After at least ten years of me being subtly difficult to live with, and then more recently probably blatantly difficult to live with. She still makes an effort to let me know she cares, even when I am blind to it. I am thankful for her, for this. Life would perhaps be so much shittier if not for this, or perhaps life would be different, I don’t really know. Know one really knows, do they?!
- I am thankful for Lisa sharing her own relationship dramas with me. Just her knowing smile at me said enough, said so much. But I asked for elaborations anyway, because who can’t resist a good story!
- I am thankful for technology that lets me watch a movie at home, on decent sized screen, streamed from goodness-knows-where via a DVD player with a dedicated Netflix button on the remote. Cheers to all you clever geeks that design such user friendly pieces of tech that let me escape into a story, laugh, hope and then wonder where my afternoon went!
- Oh, hey there! This would be the last one. So for today, finally, I am thankful for quiet, cheap-to-operate, whole-house ducted evaporative cooling that lets me survive the expected 38C (100F) in this hot-and-dry-place in this mostly-hot-and-dry-country sitting in the southern hemisphere all on its own between the great South Pacific and Indian Oceans.
So there you have it 38 minutes and some loose change on the clock. I just need to post and link it into WordPress now, and plan how I might do this again next weekend. You see it’s been weeks since I last posted to WP and there is a bunch of poetry waiting to go up. So I’m hoping this will get my writing momentum going again.
What are you thankful for today?
It is now two years since my Dad died. The grief has been hitting hard. Just thinking about Christmas, thinking about the family time to come, his birthday, triggers. The annual family gathering for his brothers and sister and their families, once again a beautiful time all together, but the biggest reminder that he is gone.
And yesterday, my highschool friend and work colleague, lost his long term Tai Kwon Do training partner to cancer. Wasted away in a hospital bed as his internal organs shut down. Reminiscent of my own Dad’s failing body. My friend talks about death and repeats the words of his own religious father.
“Bury your dead. And take care of the living.”
A reminder, to focus on the life around you. These are the people that deserve your time, your love. Share your energy with them while you are able to.
For me, this is a positive focus reminder. Yet I also know that this won’t lessen the feelings I have. Love for my Dad. Despite the life we had. Despite all that happened. Despite the hard, unreasonable person he was at times. He still loved me. His partner tells me he was always so thankful that I had visited.
Even though he wasn’t particularly good at expressing it. He made an effort. A few words. Remembering birthdays. Always welcoming, supportive, interested.
The love of a father. The love that I missed whilst a child. The love I still look for. Crave. Does any of this help me today? Help me with my own wants/needs? Help me with my grief?
Only in expressing all this, will there be some benefit. Sharing my story, my words, is the only way I know to let this out. May that be enough.