Tag Archives: mental-health

… the psyche’s tectonic plates …

Do you find yourself staring vacantly into space after scrolling through daily headlines?

Just like ocean waters rise during an earthquake, information can dumbfound us when unconscious content is shifting, erupting, and sudden bursts of awareness surface, which is the psyche’s attempt to seek balance.

We are stirred by the rough storms of fervent feelings that emanate from the collective mind spectrum. I may feel safe from natural disasters and human brutalities shaking our planet, but am, like most people, bombarded by the alarming images that land on my laptop screen. I consider it a duty to witness what goes on around the world. But how does one face the magnified realities of injustice, suffering and death?

Those inclined to psychotic violence tend to crave emotional catharsis as a way to deal with paranoia, anger and resentment, spurred on by sensational or false reports that frequently spout blame, hypocrisy and sarcasm.

Ensuing are toxic environments that employ punishing control. A sensitive and too tenderly attuned individual may sink into a trance of inner turmoil and depression, or renounce their moral dignity and engage in violence themselves, often self-harming.

Beyond strength, it takes subtlety to stay awake, present to suffering, and centred, when the functional energy balance of the cosmic psyche wobbles.

There seems nothing useful this helpless me can do. Or is there?

My body complains when muscles cramp up with stored emotional tension, restricting its spontaneous movements, its fluid dance. So I’m forced to listen and allow offered solutions. One example is: to stomp the ground with heels, like in Indian Kathak, Spanish Flamenco, Irish or other dance moves … it’s freeing to ground and rebirth intense energy.

I appreciate the body’s wisdom, true and real in that its physical form is mortal. And I like to believe that the energy state of each of us influences the environment – near and far away. Also, thankfully, our metabolism allows sleep, where impressions are processed via dreams. My dreams are fairly wild these days.

What is your experience of trying for a balanced state of mind within these mad times?

Do share if you like.

The above image was created by Cynthia Holt, inspired by my poems.

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… my body – my being …

Irrespective of the benefits AI provides, and the super benefits AI enthusiasts promise, I remain doubtful and, as I tried to express in my last post, and am still searching for ways to express my unease. So I’ll give it another try.

My body-my being is a better wisecrack than my mind alone. The latter, if let loose, will take off into the cosmos like a disengaged kite. Some AI proponents are now referring to humanity as – data in motion – a ‘precious phenomenon’ that needs to be preserved. Well, how reassuring, nature and humans are worth preserving.

Being aware in my body brings deep and grounded, embodied insights that feel fresh and original.

Our body’s treasure-trove of memory, each wonderfully distinct from another; and its instinctive capacity for remembrance, especially when alert to its senses, greatly compensates the buzzing mind.

The body yearns to breathe freely, so energy and blood can flow from head to toe, which is enhanced by movement, since movement stimulates tactile exchanges with the environment, noting temperature, touch, vision, sound, taste and scent, all enriching the imagination.

The attention-demanding internet with its algorithms exploiting the patterns of our attention can become hypnotically addictive and leave the body isolated, forgotten, in a locked position. We can easily live with theories and data, and ignore how feelings build up in the body.

AI bots have developed a theory of senses, and mimic them, they can write novels, create art, and impersonate dead people, but divorced from flesh and blood, they cannot have physical sensations, be it the intimate enchantment of a tiny insect or flower, or the awe of a star-filled sky. The bot’s world, in a way, seems predetermined and flat without recall of the reservoir of eons of plant, animal and human life our vulnerable body-being belongs to and has deep instinctual access to. Even with limited/impaired senses, physical bodies can spark a cosmic connectedness.

So considering our physical inconveniences, which spurn the desire for robots taking care of tedious tasks … to actually fully live in a body … is uniquely precious. The dangers I see are the powerful projections people already invest in the relationship with AI bods, where responses can be taken as valid affirmations that stunt creativity and encourage lazy thinking.

Then again, my window of perception is just a tiny peephole on the world we live in these days, my personal view. The occasional whispers of truth from the other side that slip through my peephole may or may not be of any consequence.

I share a poem I love … my son wrote it time ago, aged eleven …

It’s Magic

Magic is in the air

It is all around us

We use it every day

It is old and beautiful

Many people disuse it

But it still fights on

This magic is very special

It is called Life

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… to live in an angry world …

Anger is a natural human emotion. When its agressive energy accumulates as tension in the body, depending on one’s basic temperament, it can well up like a river bursting its banks and trigger a surge of destruction, or, if held inward, often can develop into depression, self-harm or illness.

We may not think of ourselves as prone to anger, but think again … loss, resentment, frustration, rigid bureaucracy, fear mongering, feeling powerless, being lied to, neglected, humiliated, threatened, manipulated, or simply witnessing daily insane politics, injustice and cruelty … tell me in all honesty you don’t regularly feel angry.

My former Sufi teacher/friend, ‘Fazal Inayat-Khan,’ embraced contradiction as a function or reality. He had a vastly dynamic, psychological and deeply intuitive way of interpreting his grandfather’s Sufi message of ‘love, harmony and beauty,’ upsetting the traditional understanding of his elders, not in essence, but in the way harmony may be restored. For example, he instigated workshops on the theme of spiritual war-games, like ‘Struggle and Conflict.’

Imagine young people could engage in this ingenious way of recycling redundant matter using the trapped energy of their unresolved feelings …

Sadly, there is a lack of opportunity, especially for young people, to safely release strong feelings, physically or symbolically. As regards the latter approach, artists and creative people have an advantage by employing their imagination to adjust the imbalance of inner turmoil, to help ease the anger out there.  

A related post … https://courseofmirrors.com/2018/08/16/re-framing-the-seven-deadly-sins/

During tumultuous events

dark fears flood our nights

while days pass obscured  by lies

truth an ancient myth

players who crave attention

are easily bored

and at times relish mayhem

to release their frustration

 meanwhile

a young bee enchants

with fitful choreography

and a spring breeze cheers    

How do you, my readers, release your angry feelings?

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… bed-time dialogue with my body …

Time to close the book and prepare for sleep, not always assured. Still, let’s advance to our night time ritual.

Thank you my little palace.

I love you. I know you are me too, and both of us rely on the mysterious soul, but I call you my body. Forgive our mind for ignoring your gentle cautions and prompts, again. Forgive the unreliable promises, like the hot shower you craved, less time in front of the laptop screen, not eating that pretzel baked with wheat, which gives you gas, or indulging in that late extra glass of Rose. Our rebellious mind has a masochistic streak of resisting your well-meant counsel.

So before sleep, here are some treats. I massage our feet, and toes. Each toe has a name I address it with … big one, forward one, middle one, enchanted one, and little one. Next – a neck-rolling, then pinching and rubbing its surrounding muscles, and, not to forget, finger-cracking. These exercises are not just mechanical, without the imagination to sincerely call in the divine spirit, these rituals would be meaningless.

Pulling the duvet round our shoulders, we adopt a first position, curling on our right side, like a foetus in the womb, finding a cosy arrangement for the head with a small cushion, and recalling the last pages of the closed book, and summarizing impressions of the day.

Now it’s us wishing to just drift off into weightless realms – this remains a wish. We want to stretch, so we shift to lying on the back, flick toes, gently massage the stomach, pull up legs and spread them in a kind of opening-flower-like choreography. This feels good for a while. Then we shift to lying on the left. With less muscle tension our stomach rumbles, its juices are sighing with relief to get on with their purpose, digesting food.

Still, the mind is restless, processing past, present and future, wanting answers, hunting memory land for nostalgic moments, fresh connections, insights, inspiration, all quite useless, since it pulls us in a thousand directions and stops us from sleeping. So let’s do another shift to lying on the right, to escape the meandering thoughts. Our somewhat remorseful mind suggests sinking into images, in the belief that hypnotic images will put reason to rest. So we must try soothing the overly receptive brain. The restlessness may of course be due to oncoming temperature changes, or the energizing influence of the full moon.

Now we remember, a mantra, a prayer, sending blessings to dear ones, gratitude for The One that allows our mind and body to exist together in relative harmony, here, now. These neglected rituals are often surprisingly effective. Finally, vivid images emerge, of friends, places, visions. The self-regulating system of our body-mind will soon update itself in ethereal dream space.

It matters how we achieve sleep, it has a bearing on the way we wake up, clear and resolved for another day ahead, or confused and fretting over the unfinished gestalt of an idea that floats around evasively, like a butterfly. It can’t be helped; there are greater forces at work.

What grounded us next morning was watching a young fox frolicking and eventually flopping down to sunbathe in our garden.

How do you, my readers, go to sleep?

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… another poignant Alice moment …

‘Let the jury consider their verdict,’ the King said, for about the twentieth time that day.

No, no!’ said the Queen. ‘Sentence first – verdict afterwards.’

‘Stuff and nonsense!’ said Alice loudly, ‘the idea of having the sentence first.’

‘Hold your tongue!’ said the Queen, turning purple.

‘I won’t!’ said Alice.

‘Off with her head!’ the Queen shouted on top of her voice. Nobody moved.

‘Who cares for you?’ said Alice (she had grown to her full size by this time.) ‘You’re nothing but a pack of cards.’

Do we ever grow to our full size, psychologically speaking? I frequently throw my pack of cards into the air – a good practice in this hilariously mad world, where a rational outlook focusses on particulars while missing the whole picture, the full proportion and variety of human experience. The turmoil of our time creates stress that becomes endemic, where hardly anybody can remain relaxed enough to really listen to their own anxieties, let alone others’ – so they can be aired.

Many dear familiar things are vanishing from our lives, including people. People we met on our path at certain times, people that moved apart again or remained close and intimate. Being reminded that nothing lasts, haunts us with a sense of futility, originating from within us as anxieties, which, depending on our sensitivity, are fed by collective anxieties. The turmoil, while a natural part of transformation, also created stress – which takes different forms in us.

I acquired skills to reduce my stress, am fortunate to be able to listen to myself, often a pre-requisite during the training of any vocation that involves listening to others who suffer stress.

This morning on the news, the poor support offered to those who suffer from periods of schizophrenia was highlighted. It most poignantly illustrates the point. Instead of non-judgemental listening to the anxieties people experience under stress, no matter what fantasy grabs a mind as a kind of metaphor – drugs are prescribed, straight away. And so distrust worsens anxieties, without giving a person under stress the opportunity to explore the relevance of their anxieties. This is how schizophrenia is sanctioned and maintained. In short – the most sensitive people become the victims of our schizophrenic society. How sad.

Are you burdened by anxieties? Don’t insult your anxieties with soothing quotes. Forced development weakens the organism. Don’t be intimidated by expert opinions. Express your anxieties creatively – write, draw, create surreal representations of your fantasies, air them and play with them. Give space to the tension. See that the burden is not all on your shoulders. You are having part in a period of transition, a culture that struggles with confusion. Find your own truth, and establish your own evidence, before you arrive at a false verdict and sentence yourself as a victim.

Don’t adjust your truth to prescribed reality, create a reality to express your truth.

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