“I get deeply tired because everything touches me. I am never indifferent. Indifference or passivity are impossible to me.” ~ Anaïs Nin , Journals Volume II

"But my soul is a passionate dancer," by Katharina Pieper*

                   

“What’s madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance?” ~ Theodore Roethke, from “In a Dark Time”

Wednesday, early evening. Thunder showers.

Tillie had two seizures today while I was out of the house. Luckily, Corey was home with her. He said that they both lasted a pretty long time. I hate it when she has seizures because there is no warning.

"The abstract is the origin of art," by Massimo Polello

I had an appointment with my psychiatrist today, a med check. We talked about my recent anxiety attacks and agreed that it’s probably a temporary thing based on circumstances, so she prescribed me something for the interim. I remember when I used to have anxiety attacks all of the time. I was married to my ex. Maybe that explains it, but I haven’t had them in a very long time, so this backsliding is bothering me.

Anyway, I have a new television addiction: “Fashion Star” on NBC. It’s pure fluff, but the music is great. There are no scenes from the workroom like “Project Runway,” but there are lots of divas, which always makes for interesting watching. And Corey and I have started watching a new drama called “Awake,” which features Jason Isaacs (Lucius Malfoy from Harry Potter), who is a superb actor. The premise of the show is different, which makes it engaging to watch.

You know that my life is kind of in standstill when I’m writing about what’s on television . . .

“Is it possible . . . that we have not yet seen, known, or said anything real and important? Is it possible that we have had thousands of years to look, meditate, and record, and that we have let these thousands of years slip away. Yes, it is possible.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge

Today is one of those days in which possibilities seem limited as opposed to endless.

I was in the elevator after my appointment, just thinking about where I am at the moment, and it occurred to me that I haven’t been able to see Dr. K. for months now. I had suspended my therapy because I had to keep cancelling and rescheduling because of the vehicle situation, and I didn’t think that it was fair to her to be taking up slots in her schedule that I might not be able to keep. I told her that I would call her when we finally got the truck fixed and resume my sessions at that time. Now I need to wait until I get caught up in my health insurance as we are behind a month again. So no therapy for now.

"Baudelaire, Evening Harmony," by Sophia Verbeek

The doctor I saw today asked me how long life has been this way, and I told her three years, but actually, it’s now four years. I keep forgetting that it’s 2012; all of this started in 2008. Four years of ups and downs, mostly downs. Four years of an endless cycle of debt. Four years of just scraping by. Four years.

My how time flies. In four years, a person could get a degree. In four years, a baby grows from an infant to a toddler. In four years the presidency changes. So much happens in four years, and yet, nothing happens.

Forgive me. I’m quite maudlin. Perhaps I should not attempt to post, but I feel that need to write, to make these keys click or clack or whatever sound it is that a computer keyboard makes. I just had a sudden memory: the sound of 50 IBM Selectric typewriters all going madly simultaneously. That was the sound of the newsroom in the morning, in the era pre-computer. If you listened carefully, you could discern the different cadences, depending upon the user’s typing ability. There were the two-fingered reporters, the one fingered reporters, the full hands reporters, so all together, it was kind of like a schizoid percussion section: rat-a-tat-a-tat very quickly, or one beat at a time.

That’s a good memory.

“The soul is silent.  If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams.” ~ Louise Glück

Last night I had a Great Bridge dream, that’s one featuring all of my relatives on my mother’s side with whom I grew up, especially my cousins. My Aunt Ronnie was still alive, and everyone was coming over for dinner, just like they used to. Except in this dream, Corey’s family was also there, and his brother Steve arrived on a three-wheeler. Dinner was chaotic, and I was trying to feed a baby who kept spitting out the food. Then Aunt Ronnie took the baby from me, and fed her with no trouble. She told me that I was doing it wrong.

"Shakespeare Sonnet 126," by Anatoly Moshchelkov

I also remember that before dinner, we were setting up folding chairs at a very long table, and I was carrying four chairs on each arm—like that could happen now. Once upon a time, maybe, like when I worked at Dillard’s—I was kind of freakishly strong for my size, routinely picking up four-ways completely covered with clothes and moving them around the floor. Of course, that probably led to my back problems.

Speaking of once upon a time, there was something about that in another dream, but I can’t quite grasp it. But I also dreamt that I was in someone’s office, and they were telling me about this epic book that I should have read but hadn’t. It was a book about everything, and when I opened the book, the pictures moved (on the paper). I decided (in the dream) that I would buy a copy for each of my sons.

In the past few weeks, dead relatives keep appearing in my dreams: my aunts and uncles, my m-in-law, my dad, and once, my ex-father-in-law walked in and said that he’d been asleep and was wondering what was happening. That was really weird as he has rarely appeared in any dreams throughout the years. (Aside: I almost always misspell the word weird, which in itself is weird as I have always consider myself weird.)

“It is all in the mind, you say, and has
nothing to do with happiness.” ~  Mark Strand, from “So You Say”

I’ve begun reading the second book in the Game of Thrones series, having finally finished the first one, which was really quite good. Only one thing bothered me: the author used the phrase “game of thrones” at least five different times in the narrative. I love the phrase, but usually the titular phrase is only found once in the narrative, which helps to give it emphasis. I’m not sure why George R. R. Martin did that, seems like overkill.

"I was taught by water, I was taught by wind," by Katharina Pieper

But what do I know? He’s published a lot more books than I have . . . but if I ever do get published, I’m going to be sure to have two middle initials—G.R.R. Martin, kind of like J. R. R. Tolkien . . .

I know that the books have been turned into a show on HBO, but we don’t have HBO, so maybe if we ever get Netflix, I can watch the series. Sean Bean and Lena Headey are in it, among many other notable actors. I could probably download it, but I’m reluctant to download shows as they are much more prone to viruses. So I’m back to talking television. Geez.

I should probably stop now before I bore all of you beyond tears.

More later. Peace.

*All images are taken from the International Exhibition of Calligraphy, Moscow

Music by Peter Bradley Adams, “Full Moon Song”

                   

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

~ Mary Oliver, from Dream Work

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6 thoughts on ““I get deeply tired because everything touches me. I am never indifferent. Indifference or passivity are impossible to me.” ~ Anaïs Nin , Journals Volume II

  1. I love the calligraphy…

    Hope Tillie is doing okay… And, I hope that things smooth soon so you can go back to see Dr. K. Over the years when I’ve gone, there’s no one that stands out as someone that has helped me see how to improve my path… Maybe that’s not what they are there for, anyway. Maybe it’s just to help you cope. I should have gone to a life coach after I learned how to cope… Only, I don’t think we have them here…

    I also love Mary Oliver…

    It’s 10:30 p.m., I’m on a quiet road, and someone is whistling…

    All those dreams… just sound like part of a book to me…

    Wishing you a good night…

    • What were you doing on the quiet road? Walking? Have you noticed that people don’t whistle the way that they used to? I think that people used to whistle more back in the day before music was readily available everywhere. I don’t remember the last time I heard someone whistling a tune . . .

      Dr. K. helps me in kind of a directed way. She always asks what I want to work on, in general, and what I want to talk about on that particular day. We have one of those old-shoe relationships: we’ve known each other so long, that it’s very, very comfortable. I’m not sure that I know what the difference is between a life coash and a therapist.

      Don’t remember my dreams last night, but I have often thought that my Great Bridge dreams would make a good story.

      Take care.

      • I live on the quiet road, I mean… It would maybe be creepy to be walking on a road after dark and hear someone whistling. It’s true that you don’t hear whistling as much any more. It would be a great idea for a flash mob…

        I wish I had found therapy like you have with Dr. K. I always felt like there should be a direction… Like the therapist should be there saying, “Okay, what’s the problem?” “What are some ways to deal with this problem?” “What would you like to happen?” “How could you get there?” I guess there is some type of therapist that knows different options – a social worker maybe? Sometimes it felt like I just went there to pay them to listen to me. Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to take a step of your own choice… Catch-22. Sometimes they just told me over and over what I already knew.

        I guess a therapist tries to answer the question “Why?” and a life coach tries to motivate, guide, encourage, etc. and works with you to move toward the future…

      • I have been very fortunate with Dr. K, but it took some missteps before I found someone with whom I felt comfortable. I had two really horrible experiences. I also think that Dr. K. works kind of like a life coach for me, in a way.

        Flash mob whistling, too funny. Sorry I took your comment literally.

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