Ode To A Common Bird

Who, Who.
I woke listening to the birds.
Laid there, wishing I sang my victory.
Could surf those invisible waves.
Floating up, and then circling down.

No need for mortgages, cars that hobble
Weekly. Grind in The A.M.. Family
Disasters in the P.M..
Those waddles, those type A.
No more heartbreak.

Then the melodious voices,
Woke me again. Rather be in a forest primeval,
Singing my own song.
Arms wide I fly.
Now an acrobat of the sky.
Balanced, alive, awake.

Oddly I met John Keats grand nephew in the early seventies. I was working on my Masters on John Keats and realized I would rather write than be a critic, and gave up school. I was working at Real Foods, at the register, when checking the drivers license for a signature, it said John Keats. Having known that John Keats brother went to live in the USA, I asked if he was related. Great Grand Nephew. I wondered what brought me to John Keats. Why write on Keats. After reading his biography I understood. His family died of tuberculosis. other accidents. His mother, his father and his brother are gone. There is a sadness in his works. A yearning for other worlds, happiness. Keats took comfort in creating .A comfort in words. Don't we all.

Remembering

For most of us we never knew we were so screwed up. We went about our little life, living with our parents, our siblings, going to school, and then the secret self began to appear. It was  puberty; nothing was said, nothing was explained: information was passed on the street, in closets, in bathrooms. Slowly, inexorably we found a way, we carried on until our life started going weird.

Perhaps it was an  unsatisfied marriage, or a bad job or a sibling became suicidal. Some of us turned to drugs, some of us found an obsessive activity. I at an early age noticed in the New York Times Magazine, an article on the strange case of Dr. Wilhelm Reich. Then synchronicity in California, went to Dr. Rinn for Orgone Therapy. He was trained by Dr. Duval a student of Dr. Reach's.


It is invisible. It is not the original template but it is my habit that  seemed to save me. It enveloped me as a baby. First I had a mother as she said, she was like everyone else, a cold, unfeeling abused woman. Then in the Jewish custom with out pain killers they circumscribed me. Then no breast feeding and isolation in my crib. A recipe for a new template, invisible depression a repressed Orgone, leading to addiction: habits ingrained and invisible. 

The cup of chocolate almost pulled me away from writing my ideas on depression. In fact many, moments have been passed by. I like to disappear into a state of similar to day dreaming. I learned it well as a baby after the typical abuses I write about. Now as an adult I know it is depression or an outer body reality: disassociation. It came about from abuse, like the amoeba that shrinks when being pricked by a pin, I also contracted. In fact continually contracted my whole childhood, but I survived because there was enough instinct, basic sensory pleasure that motivated me to live. 

I still enjoyed certain aspects of growing up. I liked food. Mom gave me her coffee left  over sugared at the age of seven. When she noticed I was totally withdrawn she fed me sugared French toast, sugared hot cereal. That was the only time I had contact with my Mom. That is the beginning of my food addiction. Eat to wake up. In fact since I have to eat; still experience those affects.

Eating took me away; the sweetness I didn't get. Later as an adult. when I was with a breast feeding women I shared her bounty. It was sweet. I never experienced that sweetness. And soda, and other junk food that I ate in quantity, besides fruit, gave me something that I missed. Now when I have an indulgence and I still do I can feel myself subtly expand. A pleasure that feels good and for me dangerous, as I know it can still be a  momentary escape from dealing with anxiety.

Abuse contracts, depression contracts. Abuse is depressing. Addiction is abusive but expanding and dangerous in its pleasure, and ultimately contracting. I was fortunate and learned how to express myself: unlocked the contract. Orgone Therapy saved my life, and allowed me to experience my first feelings: my original template and understand my profound need for loving connection.