Your Love is like a Strangle Hold

I am a little Midas
touching things, and turning them into gold

the curse of one who attaches too much meaning
to the world he lives in
and the people he shares it with

this is not to say
that we ought not care for those around us
but, we are oftentimes investing far more
than we would like to admit
and far more than we ought
in the hidden economies of the heart

under the influence of our desires
we can
reduce the others we love,
down to our idealised visions of them
we relate to them as
trinkets, amulets and charms
rather than as the ordinary people that they are

flesh and blood and neuroses

we dehumanise them by
scripting them into our secret stories

the dynamics of needing
can be visible from the very outset of relationship
and needing strangles the life out of relationship
for no-one needs any specific other person

When we write stories, of how we couldn't survive
without that special someone
we are writing painful stories for ourselves
and stories that are radically disempowering to ourselves
and the more we live out narratives of disempowerment,
the more we drain the emotional reserves
of the others we are in relationship with.

our symptoms are evident in our participations,
evident in the energy of our togetherness

our secret stories are evident in our participation
even if not evident to us
for the last thing we would want to do
is acknowledge the naked emperor of our own making

the story of our participation, is also the story of our withdrawal

want to know why we withdraw,
look at how we participate

want to know the history of the separateness,
look for the energy in the togetherness

Midas Touch

He wanted things to be so valuable to him, for life to be abounding in meaning. He either hated people, or loved them, and ignored everyone in between. Life was a goldmine. Well, that was, until he received the gift, that whatever he touched would be turned to gold.

Meaning quickly went out the window, for he realised, that the value he had put on things, had far exceeded what had already been there. He touched things he liked, and they became gold. He touched things he loved, and they became gold. When things turned to gold...they died. There could be no life in things of gold. They could just be trinkets; lifeless trinkets, and amulets...but nothing of worth. Well, worth, that is a whole conundrum, and meaning; well, that is can of worms one ought not open.

Anything that had value to Midas, he had to let go off. He had to surrender the very things he viewed as most worthy, because, as soon as he ascribed it more meaning than it ought to have had, if became golden. It became dead and lifeless. The more it meant to him, the more likely it was that this thing or person, would be become dead to him.

And so, he learnt to love the ordinary things in this life, with out clinging to them. Without ascribing them too much meaning, lest they become gold. He learnt to touch gently, in a way that kept the other alive and animate.

He redeemed flesh, and blood, and let go of value and meaning, or at least allowed them to become rich and ordinary.

But, how did he keep his friends, when they meant so much to him? How did he keep lovers, when they meant so much to him? How did he live with other people, when they meant so much to him?

He had to learn to navigate this world, loving, but not clinging....finding value, but not attaching too heavily. Touching lightly. Light enough, to avoid the Midas Curse.

Thrown-ness

Thrown into the world
but
not quite thrown
forced into the world:
from safety into chaos

into a world of separateness
of others
separate-others
a world,
terrifying with possibilities,
of possible outcomes

and most of them
radically beyond our control

we feel vulnerable
at the mercy of the world
and yet, in many ways,
we long to be at the mercy again
but, the mercy of that
dark tranquil sea
where
we are radically dependent
but looked after
where everything is looked after
where we are held

and as we tentatively grow
we find temporary places
like
refuge shelters
safer places
to evoke the memory
of that once-sacred union
so intensely together

that time when there was no separateness
the time of radical dependence
when we were powerless,
but we were looked after
by a raw chemistry

a nature that knew our needs
and responded instantly
like a benevolent God
who answered prayers
before they were even known
in the heart of the believer

places of focus
places of concentration
places of fixation
places of fascination
places of forgetfulness
places of letting go

to offset the terror of this harsh world
a world too harsh for the likes of me and you

we learnt to dream
of magic wands
and
fantasies of control
of moving things, changing things
rearranging things, altering things
making things different
than they are
different
than they were

and as we grow,
we can find ourselves longing to have control over
other people in our worlds
desiring
to change feelings, to make things better
longing to have more control
to know what we cannot know
to be where we cannot be
to do what we cannot do

because this life is far too harsh
far too harsh
for the likes of you and me

Master of this Ship

The child within is at the helm of this ship

charting a course toward its own satisfaction

this is why I am not master of my own ship

for the I is the created ego

the creation, the facade,

the presentation, the public face.

There are much more primary things

hidden things

that go on under the presentation

that go on under the mask of civilisation

and sociability

there is a hidden economy

we will meet our needs

any which way but lose

The child at the helm, is not vulnerable

not like we make out

the child is not innocent

innocence is a nostalgic projection made by

the adulterated children, we call adults

we were never innocent

we are need-meeters

and play whatever role we can to do this

we always did

we are highly skilled at it

we just like to kid ourselves into thinking otherwise

we have always tried to meet our needs

even at the expense of others

even in the womb we were doing this

and nothing much has changed

and we hate it when the world

does not dance around our needs and desires,

like a servant to our whims.

We desire reciprocity

We want people to want what we want, when we want it, and how we want it

The reciprocation of desire

the desire for synchronicity

the longing for the world to dance with us

but, often it feels like the world is sitting out the dance

when you desire something, and reality isn't obliging,

we can feel dejected, as the myth crumbles

reality stands in the way

life is a competition of needs

relationships are a competition of needs

we just play the game

of plausible deniability

denying how involved we are

in playing roles

playing innocent

but, we were never innocent...and that is ok

we were never innocent,

and that does not make us worse human beings

we were always foraging around in the world around us, 

trying to get our needs met

even as children, we were very clever, 

and learnt to manipulate people and circumstances

it is just that somewhere along the journey, 

we forgot that we were doing it

we became blind-spotted to it.

but, it is ok...it is nothing to be ashamed of

it is ok to meet your needs...it is ok to do what you need to do

even if that pisses off other people

even if you meeting your needs triggers difficult feelings in others.

it is ok to do what you need to do.

the trick is, knowing what it is we need to do

that is the greater conundrum by far

The Strength to Fall Apart

when all things seem stacked against you
when the world seems to have a vendetta against you
and is not letting up
when it all mounts up
and you cannot bear it anymore

may you find the strength to fall apart

when obligations are weighing heavy on you
when you feel like you cannot do anything more to please
and you can't take it anymore
can't bear the expectations
and the disappointments

may you find the strength to give up

and I will be there with you

fallen apart
and
given up

for sometimes what we need to do is let go

Economy of Feelings

Happiness: what a fucking conundrum. 

You would think that happiness should just come by virtue of being a human being. I don't even know where the idea of happiness came from, or the idea that we ought to be happy. It is only one of a myriad of feelings that we get to experience in our lives. In the midst of different feelings, there are of course some that we prefer more than others.

For the most part, we lean toward the more preferable feelings, which are often the more pleasant feelings. We, for the most part, avoid difficult feelings, feelings that cause discomfort. I think this creates some tension in us. For some this is a minimal tension, for others it is an intense conflict. 

I find it interesting, however, when we talk about feelings as being better than others; putting value judgements on feelings. Raising up the value of happiness, and invalidating other feelings altogether. There is an intimate language-feeling relationship that we learn to employ. We glue particular behaviours and feelings together with our words. Words are therefore vital; these words we use to describe ourselves and our experiences. 

I wonder, if we valued all of our feelings equally, what our lives would look like

For those with Hearing Difficulties

I believe that we rarely truly listen to eachother
I believe that listening is an essential part of a healthy relationship
Yet, if we rarely do it, then I wonder what impact it has on our valued relationships

I think that most people, when they are "talking to eachother",
are simply encountering eachother, and bouncing off eachother
in a messy exchange,
of linguistic habits
that, at best, meets our need for connectedness,
in a very basic way;
regardless of what was said;
regardless of what was communicated.

However,
in times when our needs are more acute,
when there are things that are important to us
or things that we are anxious about
we might want something a little more
than just spending time with someone
we might actually want someone to listen to us
someone to lean their ear toward us

there are not many who are good at this

many of us hear trigger-words
at which point we interject
unable to surrender our own narcissism
unable to let the other speak
still longing to hear our own echo in the other
to hear our own view of the world coming out of their mouths

my best guess is this:
that we are too quick to give
our answers to their problems
to give our understandings
to their situations
to prescribe our advice
rather than listen fully to them

my best guess is this:
that we have blindspots to how poor we are
at listening to the valued-others in our lives
whether they are
our friends,
our children,
our parents, or
our partners.

when we see others struggling;
with their own feelings
or
with indecision,
we all-too-often jump in with
parenting words...caring words...advising words...loving words

words

not listening

words

filling in the blank,
plastering over the discomfort
avoiding the silence of struggling

too quick to speak...slow to listen
not still enough to listen
brimming over with nervous words
eager to parent
to reassure ourselves
reassured that we are
helping; doing good; caring; being loving
assuming that if we don't say anything
we will cease to be those things
as if to be silent were to be heartless

we rarely allow the other the dignity of their own feelings
we just use it as an opportunity to reveal our own discomfort with difficult feelings
or to share the mantras that we use to parent ourselves

I am fascinated by how parents respond to their children's difficult feelings
I see attempts to change the feeling of the child
[of course not if they are playing out happy feelings]
as if it were not a good thing to be crying
not a good thing to be sad.
I think that this is common
and I think that it has bred in us an allergy to difficult feelings,
and that instead of listening to what is going on with the other;
letting them feel what they feel,
we jump in hastily with answers
and solutions
and remedies
and advice
and happiness
and anything, other than just being there

just being there

listening

a companion rather than a parent