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.

Orgone Way Poem

The movie stars, the sports millionaires, the CEO's.
Dream catchers like unknown woods.
Where did they come from? What broken
Paths did they resurface?

I’m driving  a Corvette. I’m
Throwing that wicked curve ball. I’m saving those armored
Doctors. Fantasy Like ice.
My eyes
Telling me it’s more than sitting like
The Buddha.

Than the breath flows.
Than the I won’t changes to I will.
Standing up to your father when the
Belt comes out.
Trap me in a corner and get in
Touch with your savior.

Through A Glass Darkly or I Won't

Up during the night examining my duality. Recognizing that the yin and yang, the black and white, the day and the night are the clothes
that Orgone wears. Our existence, our bodies, the plants, all manifestations. What everything has in common is the expression of Orgone. Duality is the clothing that Ogone steps into: Orgone is the the unity of life, and is in all matter. Identify with the expression, be the Orgone.

 And this morning after having these thoughts I found this quote on my Google page.
"Nothing retains the form that seems its own, and nature, the renewer of all things, continually changes every form into some other shape. Believe my word, in all the universe of vast extent, not one thing ever perished, all have changed appearance." Ovid's Metamorphosis.
Leave behind without shame all your past addictions. Nature, Orgone changes without attachment. Be like Nature, like the Orgone transform armor into awareness.

All the words in the world, all the libraries and still not only is there more addiction than ever but also more armored, unfeeling, unsympathetic natures. When you come to the end of the rainbow and it's mud than you have to question everything. The western culture with its imperialist expansion, like Orgone expanding, can be seen as a substitute for orgasmic living. By taking over other countries, controlling other people, a false sense of being alive is experienced. Sounds like addiction. It is.

Solving addiction without self regulating emotions is impossible. Orgone Therapy teaches through the process of therapy how to express the feelings that weren't allowed in your childhood.

Without Therapy most rely on the military approach, using discipline, self control, and willpower.  Discipline has not worked. Holding back the desire for the addictive substance does not take you to a healthy self regulating balance. Letting the Orgone, spontaneously stream, express the emotions. Balanced control is not necessary when one trusts oneself. Ultimately many diseases are the outcome of disturbed Orgone flow, and addiction. 

The culture of the West supports addiction by its head in the sand culture and puritanical heritage. Growing up unaware, unconscious of your emotional expression leads to a substitute expression: addiction. We will not awaken to our true nature till the dark stubbornness of nothings wrong with me changes into better see an Orgone Therapist.

When one's life is plugged like a stuffed toilet than the unclogging is going to be difficult, messy and very troublesome. Waking to one's true nature flushes away doubt and rushes in fun, excitement and enjoyment.

The pulse is feeling the back and forth nature of duality in every moment. Orgone's nature is a pulse. Like the breath that goes in and out, the pulse  reminds us of  our vulnerabilities. Emoting transforms the two opposites into understanding. The Orgone rises to the surface. Like the tides there is  movement and transformation.

Addiction is a denial of the essential nature of reality. Forced by abuse to not experience the past, and Orgone flow, one controls the present with an addictive flood and a lost understanding. 

ORGONE WAY Intro

I have been correcting my 81 poem cycle. I was inspired by the Tao Te Ching by Stephen Mitchell.
One of my favorite versions is Dr. Timothy Leary's. 

Mine follows Dr. Reich's four part Orgone release cycle.

Making mistakes is challenging.
Breathing deeply has its challenges.
Living with a woman has its challenges.
Becoming aware of one's armor has its challenges.
Being frozen in a fantasy is insidiously challenging.
Each one needs to be unwrapped. And felt.
How do I know the unknowable?

Orgone Way

After I took the tape off there was a
Sock stuffed in. Surprise there
Was a cork.
I thought that must be it.
And I remembered Plato’s Cave Analogy.
Then there was the rope, then the handcuffs.
I’m done I thought. But then I was
Locked like a Egyptian tomb.
Then I looked
In the mirror and the dull look.
The head leaning to the right, the right shoulder
Up. Defrosting took years.

If I could unlock some of the stiffness

Try letting go,
He said with a gleam. What did that mean?

Working was like Sisyphus.
Than the passion came and a bent tree
Can still grow. Breathing.
This puppet has wings.

Orgone Way

Now alone in the car. Thinking
As the lights turn. Looking at the other
Drivers many alone. The women mostly on
Their cell phones. Planning
Dinners, or focusing on their
Children, parents, husbands. It’s
All a good substitution. Floats our
Orgone out somewhat. I did it
Myself. Takes years to understand
The orgone. It is for the few of us who
Like Jesus said were drowning. Dr. Reich added
Would have died if no intervention.
Man’s right to know is a death
Defying journey into your
Own heart, the excavation that
Saves your life.

Orgone Way

I followed. I listened. When I left the office
I was lit up.
I couldn’t put words on why.
I no longer felt lost. Anytime
I was weird I would lie down and breathe,
Many times a day.
His actions were like fireworks,
They woke me and I was lifted.
Later when I remembered his words
I would say he always knew.