Tag Archives: poetry

Mar7

Pan and Limerence-Unrequited Love

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Pan was a harlot and whore. He ran after anything that brought his own pleasure without returning it. That being said in the excerpt from the tender countenance of Elizabeth Barrette Browning about Pan speaks of her very own passionate unrequited love.


Unreturned love is a painful, long lasting, shame invoking and obsessive thinking, cringe worthy, uncomfortable psychological state that can last for weeks, many years, or a lifetime. Many a murder and permanent destruction of lives has occurred because of unrequited love. Fortunately, and thankfully in our modern times there is a word and definition for it.


Limerence: coined by psychologist Dorothy Tennov in 1979 is the involuntary obsession of a person. Many people experience this unexpected state of persistent desire for another. Healthy people move through the infatuation, crystallization, destruction phases and go back to normal. Emotionally challenged individuals take longer to recover. Those on the OCD, autism and schizophrenic scale have a much harder time to let things go.


The difference between limerence and love is that love is caring about the wellbeing of the person and limerence is about the uncertainty of the situation.


Limerence is tied to trauma and abandonment and neglect from childhood. Those who experience extreme limerence don’t realize they are trying to rectify unstable childhood family experiences through reenacting them in the present. This repeated reenactment is the minds way of saying hey you better look at this because it is getting in the way of healthy relationships.


How does one overcome Limerence?


Be aware of what you are feeling. Limit contact with the obsession. Prioritize your own self-care. Challenge the obsessive thoughts. Redirect your energy. Avoid replacing one obsession with another. Have a strict no contact rule. Write in a journal. Talk to a therapist. Join support groups. Research limerence and understand how it is playing out in your life.


Note that time will eliminate limerence.


I am not sure if Syrinx in this encounter with Pan ever got the chance to escape the water nymphs turning her into cattail reeds, but Pan got his comeuppance in the sense that he had his own case of limerence. At least for a while until his next desire came along.

Mar1

Shadow

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If I hadn’t been so distracted I would not have rented a remote cabin deep in the Catskills Mountains on the edge of thick trees that whisper ancient stories to one another. I needed to concentrate on my writing.

It was a long drive, over two hundred and fifty miles. Alone and feeling unsettled I arrived at the rustically charming cabin. From the outside it looked cozy, safe, warm. My eye caught a flick of a curtain. I dismissed it because I was tired from the drive.

I opened the door. The creaky floorboards and mournful howl of air from the fireplace gave me goose bumps. I shrugged it off and locked the door behind me just in case goblins or elves were about.

It was chilly and noticed there were plenty of supplies of wood and kindling and matches to start a fire. The sun was setting and the night air was in so a fire would warm up the cabin in no time.

I settled in and began writing with pen as paper, writing the old fashioned way. I concentrate better this way. Trying to focus I felt a creepy, strange, prickling awareness like electricity flash up my back. Glancing up from my paper I could feel someone watching me yet I could see nothing. I froze.

Shadows cast from the raging fire burst onto the walls. One shadow did not move. It was like ink and pulsated and seemed to squirm and twitch. This shadow had no beginning or end. Didn’t bend, it was just there watching me.

Suddenly the shadow dislodged and took the shape of a long, lanky silhouette of a man with morphed edges that were thin and undefined.

I was terrified; it had no eyes, only black holes.

Instantly the air was bitter cold and very dark in spite of the blazing fire. Silence except for the crackles of burning wood. I heard a voice.

“Who are you? Why are you in my home?” it barked.

I grabbed my phone and put the flashlight on and aimed at the figure.

It shrieked as if the light burned it. The figure twisted in agony then disappeared into nothing.

I didn’t sleep, hours passed and dawn rose with a pink glow. I didn’t stay any longer. Whatever that thing was I was not going to hang around to find out.

Driving away I could see a dark figure lingering in the window. Lightly flicking the curtain.

That thing, that dark shadow stained me and would forever be in my memories. A secret, chilling true testament and mystery of the trees that tell ancient stories to one another about dead men with no names and dark shadows of long ago.

Feb5

Kite Flying

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                    Kite Flying

Years ago, on our frequent visits to the beach we would fly kites. This was long before kite flying was banned by the parks department as hazardous.


One time I had a red kite with a long yellow tail. It wasn’t very big maybe about two feet by two feet. Anything bigger would be too much to carry along with our beach gear.


It was windy. So windy that it was hard to launch and hold on to the thin rope of my kite. With the sun blaring on my back and the wind slapping me in the face and my kite zipping and zagging I fell over a seashell. Ouch. I let go of my kite rope and felt the pain in my knee.


I watched my poor kite being taken out to sea blowing heartily along.


I was sad and imagined that sea creatures would lug it back to me. No such luck. The kite sank and was never seen again.


There was nothing I could do but to save my pennies and buy a new kite at the Woolworths.


I lay on the blue blanket under the violet umbrella and took a nap. I felt better when I woke up, dipped my toes in the wavy ocean and enjoyed the rest of the day.


I will have a new kite next time we come here and start all over again.

Jan18

Bird TV

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I live on the third floor and have a wonderful view of trees and buildings and cars and sun. There are tons of birds around, sparrows, starlings, pigeons, crows, geese and an occasional seagull. Seagulls don’t come around much because they are scavengers and head toward the garbage heaps about four miles from here.

Geese and crows eat worms and bugs and don’t like bread too much.

Pigeons are fat and lazy and keep themselves at train stations and odd cement squares that separate forks in the road.

So we are left with sparrows and starlings mostly. There are so many in the winter and less in the spring because in the spring there are loads of tasty bugs to be had.

It is now winter and these little fat birds are hanging around in abundance on the wires and posts and roof tops outside my window.

I get around to feeding these marvels at seven in the morning. At least fifty birds are waiting and another twenty five stop by after the initial feeding frenzy for crumbs on the sidewalk and whole pieces on the windowsill.

Out the window I throw at least eight cut up slices of bread every day in winter for my birdy friends, then I shut the window tightly. Bird TV has begun. My two kitties’ arrange themselves like statues in front of the window and I sipping tea sit at my table and watch the show.

Bobbing and weaving and fighting and cooperating birds muscling around for their fair share of free bread. The kitties try and pounce at the chubby and plump starlings. After realizing they can’t get through the window they sit and watch.

This is our everyday morning routine. Me and my two cats and a show of feathers, wings, little legs and beaks. Brown and black and gold and yellow colors.  Chirping voices remind me of the freedom to fly, the hardships overcome and willingness to be brave.

For as long as I live here, I will feed my bird friends every day and enjoy their entertainment. Tweet, tweet, chirp, chirp.

Jan19

Dream Within a Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

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Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow:
You are not wrong who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand–
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep–while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
Jan18

Anam Cara: A Book Of Celtic Wisdom by John O’Donohue

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May the light of your soul guide you.
May the light of your soul bless the work you do
with the secret love and warmth of your heart.
May you see in what you do the beauty of your
own soul.
May the sacredness of your work bring healing, light and renewal to those who work with you and to those who see and receive your work.
May your work never weary you.
May it release within you wellsprings of refreshment,
inspiration, and excitement.
May you be present in what you do.
May you never become lost in the bland absences.
May the day never burden.
May dawn find you awake and alert, approaching your
new day with dreams, possibilities, and promises.
May evening find you gracious and fulfilled.
May you go into the night blessed, sheltered and protected.
May your soul calm, console and renew you.