On today's poems

My chest has been hurting for about 2 months. It's old pain, emotions, I could tell that. I tried to let it be, ie not suppress it, but didn't really go towards it. No, it's not a heart attack. On Monday I had to drive somewhere, leading another car. My daughter was with me and she is perfectly content to have the car be quiet. I decided to really open up to the old pain and the first poem I posted today started forming. I didn't drive badly, but I was so focused on it that I got us lost not once, but twice. And the friend took over for the last bit and led the way. So then I wrote the second poem, fool. I get so distracted working on some poem or thought direction that I really do trip over things, the same things over and over. When I get emotionally tired in clinic I start tripping over my own feet.

Child is also written for one of my clinic patients who told me about his childhood.

Beloved is from Rumi.

I was just loaned a copy of Joseph Campbell's "the masks of god: Creative Mythology". I'd read the first page before I wrote Child. Three pages later is TS Eliot's The Waste Land. "Here is no water but only rock." My thought was that women know rock isn't eternal and there must be something under it, bedrock or no. It's only called bedrock, right? We know there is a molten core.

Love,
Red Paw

Child

Child

You work at healing
For years

You dive in the swamp
Of your psyche
Turn over the mud
Tunnel through it
Breathe it
See lilies arise
From the much

The Beloved is a deer
Dainty hooves
In the swamp

At last you come
To bedrock

So you rest
Bedrock
You think

Until you notice
A chink in the rock
You look away
You avoid it

At last you look
It isn't going away

The Beloved is a bittern
In the reeds

Fluid leaks
From the chink

Foul black bilious
Acidic
Etching trails in the slanted rock
Again you look away
But not for long

You step forward
Touch the rock

I am present you say
Who is there?

The stream of foul black
Increases
Pours from a widening crack

Beloved is a tiger
Paw against the rock
You see the acid burning
Her paw
But she does not run
She stands guard

Who are you?
You whisper

The rock crumbles

There is a child

"Go away" says the child
Ancient

No you say
Beloved and I
Stay present

The black is swirling around you
It's hard to keep your footing
Beloved, an orca
Steadies you, swimming

No one stays says the child

We stay present you say

I was born
I loved
I was abandoned
When I was afraid

We are present now you say
Swimming by the Beloved
Hand on black fin

I was abandoned
When I grieved

We are here now you say

I was abandoned
In my despair

We are here you say

You say
You fought
out of love
You argued
out of love
You gave
out of love
Please child
Let us cradle you

The child is silent

The tide is slowing
Clearing
The rock has crumbled away

You will stay? says the child

We stay you say

Beloved is a whale
Singing in space
Singing to the stars

Am I lovable? says the child

You and Beloved
Earth and sky
Wind and trees
Moon and stars
Answer yes

Am I loved?

yes
yes


8/27/07

Fool

Fool

I am a fool
A buffoon
I fall over my son's shoes
Wondering why they are lying
In front of the door
Not once but twice

My mind is lost
In the wilds
Of thought, speculation and memory
The picture drops from the wall
I'm not even home
Kids call me
To say what happened
We clean it up
Yet I forget
And my sister cuts her foot
I didn't warn her

I understand why saints and mystics
Sometimes seem crazy
Angels hover near
The tips of their wings
Brush distant galaxies
But I am a mom
The kids need dinner now
I drop a plate
Clumsy fool
In spite of angels
I am grounded

8/27/07

Drug Companies

As a family doctor I am getting less and less enthused about drug companies. I do think there are some good medicines. Exercise works wonders though, and walking in the woods and on the beaches or anywhere outside. I really do read some of the junk mail from drug companies very carefully just to see what they are encouraging me to do. Some of the pamphlets seriously creep me out.

I'm listing the talky part of the blog before the poem or song starting today because I don't like reading it from the bottom up. Also, I learned to spell questionnaire. I can now rest on my laurels.

Red Paw

The Doctor's Educational Blues

The Doctor's Educational Blues

Helpful pamphlets
Come in the mail

Primary care
Diagnosis and treatment
For bipolar disorder
Is particularly popular
Right now

An article or journal
Arrives nearly every day

I read one
Sponsored by a helpful
Grant from Astra-Zenica

They happen to make
A drug
FDA approved
For treatment

The pamphlet says
1 percent
of the population
Is bipolar
Using the DSM IV criteria
For diagnosis
(Developed by psychiatrists
Experts in mental health)

But it says
If we use a broader definition
Than the DSM IV criteria
Then 2-8% of the population
Is bipolar

They have a questionnaire
For me to use
On patients
To diagnose
This disorder

They fail to mention
If they used the strict
DSM IV criteria
Or the looser criteria
To make the questionnaire

I can see that Astra-Zenica
Will sell more drugs
If we loosen up the diagnosis

I sit and wonder
How helpful it is
To change the diagnosis
And put more people
On medicine

Helpful to Astra-Zenica
No doubt

The pamphlet has a chart
Showing the range of feeling
Normal to manic

Normal is listed as
Happy and joyous

I sit and wonder
How many of us
Would feel that we are normal
Looking at that chart

Not me


5/19/06

Song: Little Blue Pill

Little Blue Pill

Little blue pill
Little blue pill
Help me help me
I'm over the hill

Don't wanna have sex
Nope nope nope
Little blue pill
Gives my husband hope

Can't make a pill
Til we define the disease
Doctors would you
Hurry up please

Little blue pill
Little blue pill
Help me help me
I'm over the hill

Thought them hormones
Would make me hot
Doc was right
They did not

Hot flashes make me
Swing my fan
No help from that
Testosterman

Little blue pill
Little blue pill
Help me help me
I'm over the hill

Doctor this
Is really no joke
My husband says
He'll slit his throat

Can't make a pill
Til we define the disease
They're trying hard
Those drug companies

Little blue pill
Little blue pill
Help me help me
I'm over the hill

I think we'll know
If they define a disease
Drug companies will tell us
On tv

Doctor I found
Just the thing
A brand new stimulating
Clitoral ring

Don't wanna have sex
Nope nope nope
Little blue pill
Gives my husband hope


6/4/06

Compassion

Don't gimme none o your damn compassion. Compassion is too often passion with a superiority complex. Instead, tell me what are you doing with your anger, your grief, your sorrow?

There, I probably got my R Blog rating, right? So let's go with that.

I got a guitar for Christmas. Now I know what I want to sing. I want to sing the blues.

Love,
Red Paw

Gin With Mara

Gin With Mara


I was tired of running away
There was no where left to hide

So I sat down
To play gin rummy
With Mara

I had run so far
I didn't have many cards left
Only 3

Mara said, "Keep them"
She pulled a deck from her sleeves
Shuffled
Let me cut
She took three cards

I played curiosity
She played grief

I knew Mara would let me run
But I would lose, again

I was plunged
Into the place
I had avoided
A well
I thought I'd drown
As the waters closed over my head

This game is played over days
Months
Even years

I played strength
Mara played shame

I fought
I struggled
I writhed

I played tenacity
Mara smiled
She played fear

I was trapped
Overwhelmed
My heart trembled
My mind clamored
Tried to escape from my skull

I had no cards
"Draw, " said Mara

I drew
I looked at my card
I played despair

Dark, dark
I sat
I sat
I sat

Mara played want
Mara played vulnerability
Mara played

Dark, dark

Mara played joy

I stared

Mara said, "You lost the cards as you ran,
Remember?"

I touched her hand
She dissolved into me
The cards all falling about us

We picked them up
And went on


1/25/07

Poem: Puttering

Puttering


I'm puttering around in my brain
Seeing just what I find
Isn't it funny
How a bear likes honey
And how much of the time
I think in rhyme
I'm puttering around in my brain

Now it's less of a strain
To putter and play in my brain
When I was down
I went around and around
I wanted to get off that train

It's fun to be up in the light
After the long dark night
I have such a full heart
I don't know where to start
I'm glad I continued to fight

I'm puttering around in my brain
Seeing just what I find
Isn't it funny
How a bear likes honey
And how much of the time
I think in rhyme
I'm puttering around in my brain


6/28/05

Not all bad

Hey, tell me if I didn't spell levethian right. Either it's not in my Webster's or I've REALLY spelled it wrong.
It's not all bad when you go to explore your unconscious. Some of it is really fun. So next is a poem about the fun part.

Love,
Red Paw

Poem: Unconscious Sea of Love

Unconscious Sea of Love


The brain is a vast deep sea
Mostly not accessible to you or me
The surface chop or calm or waves is all we see
And we wonder why we do the things we do

We're riding on the surface of a stew
Those brave enough to dive in deep are few
The depths are dark and levethians abide
And we wonder why we do the things we do

I was so frightened and alone when I dived
I wondered if I'd still be alive
I'm thankful there are helpers when you strive
And we wonder why we do the things we do

Pearls from the bottom of the sea
Gifts that the spirits gave to me
Back in the sun again my heart is filled with glee
And we wonder why we do the things we do

Be joyful if your depths are calling you
Those brave enough to dive the depths are few
Love and strength and stubbornness will see you through
Sometimes we have to do the things we do

6/28/05

Poem: Street Angel Crabs

Street Angel Crabs

Now
I see
The street angel crabs
Their eyes meet mine
They know
I've molted
I know they have
I acknowledge each of them
That I meet
Scarred, seared, torn in the attack
After molting

Bright angels
God loves you
Even if the world does not

8/16/05

Poem: Molting

Molting

I am growing
My shell hurts
It hurts it hurts!
I cannot shed it
I try and try and try
I fight
I seek allies and help
I fight
One year, two years, nearly three


I'm free
My shell suddenly releases and slides off
I can feel my soft body expand
To my real size
Bigger
Joy!

Oh!
They're attacking!
Why why!
My brothers! My sisters!
My partners!
No!
Your claws hurt!
They are cutting me
Ow ow stop why!

I run
Scuttle sideways
Soft and clumsy
Scurry
Hide
In the mud

Why why?
Oh, my wounds ache
Stabbed by multiple claws
Deepest pain
In my heart
At this betrayal.


I hide
I sit
I think

It was so hard
To shed my shell
Why would they attack?

Oh!
Their shells hurt too!
Their words
They were grabbing me
To see how I'd shed my shell
They were desperate
Oh they must be in such pain!

Can I forgive them?
Do they know not what they do?

I hide
I sit
I think
I heal

My shell is strong now
I am bigger

I will go forth
And see who is trying to shed their shell
I will try to protect the newly molted.

8/16/05

growing process

Today I am posting two poems about my growing process, ouch. Nuf said. Red Paw

Poem: Demon Chainers

Demon Chainers

And you thought the hard work was over
Finding your demons
Facing them
Adopting them
Comforting them
Learning to love the parts that no one loved
That you hid as a child
Mothering your own unloved self
Fathering the parts he couldn't love
And to surface knowing that you are a child of God
And lovable
Only to be attacked
With a concerted effort
To return you to what you were before

Don't be frightened enough to give up
You are right
You are still a child of God
Lovable
In your wholeness
Talents and faults

Those who attack
Feel their demons
Clamoring at them
Clawing
When you learned to love yours
They want to be loved too
So badly
But their keepers are frightened
They are pressing their demons back into the depths
Desperate
Attack you for you have made them feel their sorrows
All unaware

Seek those who have also
Dealt with their demons
And they will welcome you
You are not crazy
To feel the euphoria
Of surfacing
But do not get carried away
And be kind to the demon chainers
Remember where you were before.

8/16/05

returning from the journey is just as hard

My last post was about feeling attacked and unexpectedly at work. I think that is a common experience during individuation, though not necessarily at work: could be friends or at home. To go through my process I had to go way inside and try to figure out who I was, who I was really married to (not who I thought I was married to) and what in my history and culture and family rules had led me to the really awful place that I was in. So, you do all that work, took me 3-5 years depending on when I count from and then I thought things were breaking through! I was changing! I understood some things! I didn't have psychomotor slowing for the first time in 2 years and what a relief!
That is when people around me reacted. I couldn't believe it at first. Here I was better, I was happy, I'd worked so hard and I was being slapped. Work and family. I think that the journey back from individuation is just as hard or harder than the journey into it. You have to go deep internally to look at your assumptions and your demons. When you come back, it triggers other peoples' demons and they hate that. We also as a culture say that everyone can change and be better than ever but our culture also hates it when someone does something different. I wrote a litter of poems trying to understand what had happened and why. The first one was Advice to Micheal, which I already posted. Next is another.
Blessings.
Red Paw