The Past

My past is filled with lost memories, many I have the most difficult time remembering; not only because it is in the past but also because I said to myself I don't want to see my family rejecting, ignoring me. I also said I will never forget, and forget I did, and only the strange sensations(later I realized it was anxiety) brought me to Orgone Therapy.

I do remember my last blog where I hid under the sink, but today I remembered other times when calling on my family to stop being mean, I was sent upstairs and I stayed in my room, crying that no one was there, in fact no one came to see what was wrong, no one talked, no one.

Now in the present the impotency of childhood can resurface, and the depression of not being received: when ones Orgone is not accepted it stays buried. As a adult many say what is the good of going back and revisiting the past, just change, like knowing the darkness changes to light: except my character was cemented. Patterns were set that laughed at my wishes.

I had to accesses the unconscious, make the past remembered so I wouldn't screw up the present.            

Orgone Therapy is where I learned to access my buried emotions which allowed me to know the difference between being angry with my parents, our culture and not projecting that on your friends and therapist. Accessing my Orgone, my core allows me to understand my character; the ways I hold myself, the way I handle emotions, my tension. I am glad I went back. Being neglected, left out, ignored in the past will lead to addiction. Not achieving acknowledgement from the family, fairness from the culture, leads to seeking pleasure from divergent sources, often addictive substances.

I am great believer in Orgone Therapy. Orgone Therapy is my foundation for moving through the world. There have been other helpful insights after I have stopped seeing Dr. Rinn. One was People Skills by Robert Bolton. I highly recommend this book, day to day communication skills are thoroughly explained. His worked helped me understand why I failed verbally or became annoyed with other peoples verbal, communication skills. Finally what I am now calling URMovingenergy, or now Catto, a combination of all the moving arts I practice and study. Not only do these movements move the Orgone, Chi etc. but also gives me another way to to embody Orgone knowledge.

Freezing and Unfreezing The Orgone

I was a tiny little guy and after expressing my unhappiness at the dinner table that my brother was being picked on by my fat, unhappy mother, she told me to leave the table. I rushed upstairs and proceeded to throw off all the covers of all the beds. I knew this was anathema to my mother who made the beds each morning. To protect myself I locked myself in the bathroom. Hiding under the sink I would watch the drip of the faucet. The tear drop would fill and then burst. Over and over the shiny faucet would express the enlargement. It held my attention. The swelling, movement of our life can be stopped. It is the bursting of the tear shaped expansion like the drip of the faucet, death. The pulse was not my life. I tried to expand. Emotions from  me, of a hot. expressive  life was a shock for my controlling mother. She hated being reminded that she was wrong, confused, ignorant. She had too much abuse in her life. Her need was to control the outburst by bursting my bubble. 

Of late I have taken a late night boat ride skimming the bay at a high speed into the oncoming dark, fast moving current. The deep impenetrable, reflection, like a mirror of the universe. The power that moved the seas has no equal. Yet my fear was large, but only a small reflection of that immensity. I breathed in wonder and pleasure and fear at this unknown Orgone that was reflected in every life.

Addiction is a perverted course to some pleasure. Addiction is a detour, a bypass of the knowledge that one has shut down, the initial primal pulse, the swell, the expansion.
When one freezes the flow, the excitement of moving outward, settling for a controlled existence, than the beginning of depression and the continual need for artificial, less satisfying experiences will occur.

Lifting Up

Dedicated to the Wandering Pastor

Long time ago I said no more. I will not take the physical abuse and neglect and I shut down. But part of me, the deeper part, the moving, sparkling part was hidden. The forgotten armor became a protection, unconscious, buried. Pain buried does not bury the experience of abuse only the anticipation, the anxiety of waiting for the next abuse. Yes one can stifle some forms of abuse, be stoic, but pain needs to be expressed or the holding, the blocking, like sewage will bring disease. When pain comes I better scream. The emoting, the expression to the abuse allows the Orgone to move through the armor.

Two areas that are difficult: listening to myself, and looking in a mirror. Both have been helpful and troubling. My voice can sound held, reserved, and pinched. The mirror of late is where I am focused. I have begun to see the filling up or the collapsing of posture as the visibility of Orgone. Paying attention to where Orgone is lacking has helped me find a aliveness that brings fear and finally pleasure. 

Waking up Orgone lifts the body. Like the Pastor who brought comfort at work with his welcomed handshake and brought  shared smiles. As he held your hand he would say their will be lifting up. The Pastor would come to peoples work. He would spend some time with everyone. At work little was shared except work.There were no handshakes, or meaningful connections. The Pastor broke through to those stifled, incomplete beings. He reached knowingly to catch a fallen person, to let us all know there was more than what we had. His smile, his being kept us all reaching out.

Orgone Way

We had a few hours before our day began.
All our bickering left. I heard the birds
Singing.
I turned to her and felt the heat in
My loins reaching
My eyes.
Than I lifted her and carried her to our bed.

Whole.
She was my alpha omega and I
The ship finding land.

Orgone Way A Prequel

Each day begins with the practice of
Breathing. Letting the breath in and not
Holding at the top. A sigh at the bottom.
And up. Charging the body.
Allowing the memories to inhabit the body,
Becoming the movement and understanding.
My journey is unique. The practice is not.