Saturday, September 6, 2014
borderline, diary, notes to myself which can be read or not
i deal badly with most borderline patients. i try to send them somewhere else.
they still make me react just as women do.
i feel transgression of my borders, and i need my visible invisible wall, a garment i wear to keep off injury.
these "patients" need the same patience and peace i was and still am often missing in my self, when it comes to deal with my darkness.
from the age of 49 until about 57 i went through a long depression, if i need to give it a medical term, and as far as i (!) am concerned this is and was not and never a medical a problem to be treated and not at all by somebody else.
it was an experience to walk and work through , it nearly killed me, it was the experience of ageing, of loss, of sex, of illusions, of how to relate to what is left following destruction, of analyzing my rage, my killing anger, of finding my heart and trying to keep it again and again, of fighting for another way to live and of gaining and of keeping the ability to love myself and other humans. it was to find back a way into alive presence and sharing and into the flow of life, listening to the the scent of the grass and the kindness of the few.
i found it much easier to love my horse.
i wrote a book, never published, at the peak of my suffering. it is quite funny ,really, to read in it. it gave release, no solution.
but it is ok to find ways and structures for keeping sufficient balance for walking,living, dealing with other persons and work.
i didn't have the time Mr.Jung could afford, i had to work long hours and burn long nights.
but i just managed. i found my self and i could forgive myself and accept my guilt, my desire, my longing, my lust for blood and my drive to melt and die. i didn't run anymore.
my horse died.
my wife died.
i went for a long journey through the bardos,
they are always there,
and i found relief,
i let go.
i stood in my garden,
and i was free and present.
i do not know where i am now.
though i want more than balance,
i need to keep it.
but it is quite clear to me,
that if i have found or will find
a woman and partner to love,
she will experience my darkness
and i will experience hers.
if she cannot feel compassion
for hers,
then she will not feel
compassion for mine.
darkness does not need education,
it does not need judgement,
it needs presence, a hand,
and light.
darkness does not go away,
day and night,
tides,
primordial forces.
this is not a war,
this is life.
i cannot
keep away
who i am.
i do not want to.
i do not want to be
a submarine,
for nobody.
i can
but try
and let my kindness flow.
i can but try
to leave words
and judgement
i will
stay
true.
whatsoever
happens.
PS:
nothing
is all that serious.
i am dancing
naked
in my house,
cleaning,
last finish
for
preparing
a room.
there is sun.
and music.
http://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borderline_personality_disorder
http://www.psychologytoday.com/collections/201308/kings-and-queens-chaos/psychotherapists-wounded-healers
they still make me react just as women do.
i feel transgression of my borders, and i need my visible invisible wall, a garment i wear to keep off injury.
these "patients" need the same patience and peace i was and still am often missing in my self, when it comes to deal with my darkness.
from the age of 49 until about 57 i went through a long depression, if i need to give it a medical term, and as far as i (!) am concerned this is and was not and never a medical a problem to be treated and not at all by somebody else.
it was an experience to walk and work through , it nearly killed me, it was the experience of ageing, of loss, of sex, of illusions, of how to relate to what is left following destruction, of analyzing my rage, my killing anger, of finding my heart and trying to keep it again and again, of fighting for another way to live and of gaining and of keeping the ability to love myself and other humans. it was to find back a way into alive presence and sharing and into the flow of life, listening to the the scent of the grass and the kindness of the few.
i found it much easier to love my horse.
i wrote a book, never published, at the peak of my suffering. it is quite funny ,really, to read in it. it gave release, no solution.
but it is ok to find ways and structures for keeping sufficient balance for walking,living, dealing with other persons and work.
i didn't have the time Mr.Jung could afford, i had to work long hours and burn long nights.
but i just managed. i found my self and i could forgive myself and accept my guilt, my desire, my longing, my lust for blood and my drive to melt and die. i didn't run anymore.
my horse died.
my wife died.
i went for a long journey through the bardos,
they are always there,
and i found relief,
i let go.
i stood in my garden,
and i was free and present.
i do not know where i am now.
though i want more than balance,
i need to keep it.
but it is quite clear to me,
that if i have found or will find
a woman and partner to love,
she will experience my darkness
and i will experience hers.
if she cannot feel compassion
for hers,
then she will not feel
compassion for mine.
darkness does not need education,
it does not need judgement,
it needs presence, a hand,
and light.
darkness does not go away,
day and night,
tides,
primordial forces.
this is not a war,
this is life.
i cannot
keep away
who i am.
i do not want to.
i do not want to be
a submarine,
for nobody.
i can
but try
and let my kindness flow.
i can but try
to leave words
and judgement
i will
stay
true.
whatsoever
happens.
PS:
nothing
is all that serious.
i am dancing
naked
in my house,
cleaning,
last finish
for
preparing
a room.
there is sun.
and music.
http://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borderline_personality_disorder
http://www.psychologytoday.com/collections/201308/kings-and-queens-chaos/psychotherapists-wounded-healers
La Compañía - Teatro Danza / "Soon the space"
(following: Soon this space will be too small, Lhasa de Sela)
one of the best books ever
apart from reading, and it is around me for many years, i saw/heard this once on stage,
in the Old Vic, Bristol, UK
and this one:
http://socialiststories.net/liberate/The%20Caucasian%20Chalk%20Circle%20-%20Bertolt%20Brecht.pdf
judo for the heart: this is not a poem
as a child
i stood on
a stool
in the kitchen
and i preached
to
my family
until they tired
when i went to school
i could read
and soon they
called me Hemingway
but they couldn't
say it
so they got annoyed
and they beat me.
the leader
and his helpers.
i called them
many things
and i kept on
saying what i thought
however much
i was beaten
truth was more
important
to me
than suffering
when i was fourteen
i learnt some judo
from a kind
japanese man in my home
and next time
i did a nice one
over the shoulder,
the leader fell
flat to all the class
the followers
lost belief
and i
stayed in peace
ever since
is there
a judo
for my heart?
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