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 one other brother 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. Reich'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. Being alert was a better choice.

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 effects.

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 the emptiness, and neglect of my original abuse and understand my profound need for loving connection that physical closeness provides.

Pressure Cooker

   
For the longest time I would hear people saying that everything is made up of energy. Oh I can read energy once in a while. I would see that in a book. Though I never met anyone who could or at least didn't share that info with me. I am hear to tell you I can. As always it starts with knowing yourself. Feeling your own energy moving through you. How energy can fill you up, Open you up like a balloon expanding. Then one day pop I could see Orgone in others. Just lately I could see people with way too much filled energy. Like a balloon it can burst. That means that person is vulnerable to losing control.  They are probably uncomfortable. What will release the "pressure? Often that desire to release can be a precursor to addiction. When you find that something that makes you able to relax because you let off some pressure cooker steam then you can rest. Now finding that ingredient, like food, coffee, booze, sex, can be dangerous. especially if  it's the only avenue you have to understanding how to release the tension. 

 I have not met anyone outside of Orgone Therapy that has a clue that feelings actually move within the body. I am surrounded by everyone who have zero understanding of the flow of Orgone in them and in nature. Instead they have zeroed in on survival and work and this moves there Orgone unconsciously. Often it takes a complete failure in functioning to lead them into Therapy. 

But for those who never make it to Therapy, they have found some way to find limited pleasure that keeps them going: often it is addiction. Over time and maturing peoples need for orgasmic release is so powerful that not having orgasmic release will augment strange, bizarre behavior. These behaviors are secretive, they are addictive, and they are becoming the headlines. There are many whose behaviors go to such extreme that they wind up in hospitals, prisons, or dead. Living among people who have no  Orgone streaming is isolating. Like ants we are small and need help. Dr. Wilhelm Reich developed Orgone Therapy and for me it was a life savior.

wounded frantically seeking connection

                           Seeking 

I was working in a retail store in Rhode Island, and a mother came in with her little girl about three. The mother babbled on and the little girl wandered through the store. I could feel her searching, really lost. Her dependence was totally on her mother who was ignoring her. It dawned on me that the little girl would always be lost till she was an adult and would be lucky enough to express her outrage at being ignored, neglected. Early feelings, like these, are hard to remember. As children negative experiences can easily be buried with denial. Imagine when the abuse becomes  beatings, incest, rape. Held in tremendous rage  will mostly be released through addictions 

Growing up abandoned, primary drives ignored, the nuclear family submerged into work  leads to lost and anxious struggles. As mammals we come from a heritage of being touched during our first years and being in contact with our mother completely. Think of all the mammals carrying their children for there first years. The Orgone's baby must have breast feeding contact to stimulate  Orgone. The consequences of abridgment, of a cold connection is an avenue to addiction.

People choose different forms of behavior to avoid depression, anxiety, and just general panic. Three of the most common behaviors are sublimation, O.C.D. and addictions. O.C.D. behavior buries the memories of a abused childhood; one becomes passionate about being overly perfect. Of course its impossible to be perfect but it allows one to use up Orgone and the obsession blocks everything. If sexual then the acts can be extremely bizarre. By choosing work, hobbies one moves the Orgone and achieves a respite from the lack of touch, and sexual frustrations.

Surprisingly all three can be life preserving. All move the Orgone to some degree and a partial release from the build up of Orgone is achieved and relief is felt.  A purpose is realized: I will do this behavior and live. Moving the Orgone even if invisible allows one to live with purpose and purpose moves the Orgone. The will to direct action moves the Orgone and that also drives these three behaviors. Action moves the Orgone to the surface and though the pleasure is mixed with fear it feels good to be alive.

As adults our early memories were forgotten. Then through recapitulation we began to remember. Remembering we noticed many who like weeds began to show signs of differentiation. Dysfunction began to show up. Hidden sex in the cities, in divorced open day houses, in the country, in the cornfields.We took notice but could do nothing, Perhaps the secrets started as we sought ways to find pleasurable release. If we were lucky the feelings and strange urges will be talked about between friends. Parents busy finding there own satisfaction often were too confused, too armored to communicate anything. Your on your own.

 Habits are hard to break when they give relief and addictions are a passionate habit: the gateway to further secrets. Addictions are dangerous acts, drugs of all kinds, over eating, sexual perversions. The release and pleasure from the addiction becomes paramount. The perverted act is necessary to achieve release from the blocked up Orgone. Addiction is an isolated pleasure that leads to a lonely life. 

Orgone Therapy has tools that will take one back to the original wound.That searching little girl will need to find an orgone Therapist and express her anger: being neglected is a disaster and needs a therapist to help unlock the held in rage. Expressing the outrage, the loss,ultimately will heal the organism and a feeling of exuberance will be known. Choose Orgone Therapy, and learn to make different choices. Being in Orgone Therapy is  life saving. 

Collating

A little guy enters the world. Really a simple world, complicated by evasion, gone tremendously wrong. Immediately too much is going on. What works is one moment to the next and choosing  pleasurable, loving activities, and for the very few this happens. Except for most of us that is not what faces us. The armor, the hiding, the stilling of what is needed begins. The new character seems safe and it is because it guarantees ones survival for most. Some can not do it. Perhaps they have too much early brilliance and it is just time for them too move on or just become aberrant. Whatever, the rest of us have to deal with abuse of one kind or another. All of us turn to some kind of addiction to soothe our neurotic character with fantasy, drugs, food, some aberration of the primary drive. All of this moves the Orgone, and that pleasure seems enough. But and it is a big But it isn't.

Dr. Reich developed the four count energy principle and it inhabits human beings and probably all developed species. Orgone needs full expression as it grows in us. At some point the Orgone will fill us too excess, and needs to be fully, deeply expressed through sexual intercourse. Except because of armor, Orgone stilling, the excess is released through Dr. Reich's brilliantly conceived secondary drives, (weird Orgone, my term), causing the dysfunction in our culture.

Beginning at birth, the need, the stimulation of the embrace, and the closeness and the stimulation of body to body contact needs to be experienced with the mother and then with other children. Yet parents deny children their physical needs..The result: the child is forsaken closeness that any other mouse can experience and develops substitutes that hide, obfuscates and fuel addictions.

The mythical garden is taken away. Truly we can not underestimate the horrendous results of this expulsion. Our culture with its complete war practices, on every level, is a manifestation of its anger at being deprived of closeness, pleasure of  sexual honesty, that every other bird and bee can experience and instead becomes the nasty, murderous species that is on the edge of extinction.

Orgone Therapy can help change that nasty laugh to satisfaction by helping us remember simple pleasures are our heritage.

Exploring My Life Through Orgone Therapy

Looking back at my childhood I can see I never wanted to leave home; I never saw anything wrong with my family. I would never look at my past. My past was not a solvable problem and seemed to have no influence on my present behavior. Now that idea seems so strange to me. I now know why that is so. I controlled myself unconsciously so I would not see my dysfunction and my families dysfunction: immobilized breathing is a fantastic way of staying unresponsive.
Orgonomic breathing streams the Orgone and opens oneself to ones past.  

Finding the answer to my headache that has begun in the last year, has led me to explore my progression of finding how my headache, my character, my armor, my addictions are symptoms of my pathology.

Today I woke with my typical tension in my occiput region, that is above the collar of my shirt: that tension caused my headache and I knew I was unconsciously contracting those muscles. The muscles tightening through the top of my head compressed the nerves, and the blood vessels, caused severe pain. Laying there I experienced my shallow breathing, and the tension, the holding, the contraction that began telling me that I won't express myself. I knew I was tense, succeeding in not experiencing something. I would have to use what Orgone Therapy taught me to get rid of that headache. Why, why, and then as I said to myself I won't, it reminded me again what I would have to do if I didn't want to be in pain. Orgone Therapy had an answer for my living coma. "Say I won't", said Dr. Rinn. Over and over I said I won't. No info to what that meant;  I kept on with the I won't, saying it made me feel better, and after years, ultimately it brought me back to my original template, my difficult birth that I had closed down and did not want to experience.

The initial template of being born by a very armored mother, combined with circumcision and followed by neglect, and my withdrawal was seen as being a good boy. Quiet no trouble for the parents. And you bet if I knew anything I was going to hide, as not to be hurt by neglect: what was neglect?

The difficulty for me was the distasteful humans, and being small I didn't dare revolt, when I did I got beaten: I felt more than scared, I was invisible. My reaction was as the

possum. I would keep that modus operandi  that would become my character. A sleepy good boy with moments of excitements combined with tantrums, anger. Over years I would experience my past, yes all the way back to when I wouldn't express the pain, my rage. I once again realized I was the master of hiding from myself. 

Waiting for me was the Gestalt of the baby, the child, the teenager who was holding himself so tight, by not breathing, by not knowing how to express his disgust, his anger, my rage. Finally to be-woken up and to express myself finally. Orgone Therapy taught me emoting, appropriate emoting took away my headache, and lessened my need for my addictions: food and unconnected sex. Orgone Therapy is dynamic.

Today I know what to do when that habit of hiding returns which is often when I sleep. Waking to my dreams where I am facing my isolation, my lack of connection that I know in the repose of sleep,  I will not fight, rage, but instead hold to resting, and pleasure, and no one will mess with my pleasure. Yet when waking I need to emote against the deniers, the abusers, and that is the key. Without the expression the musculature remains armored, stiff and intelligence is static. For in the anxiety of doing nothing lies impotence. Luckily for me my karma led me to Dr. Rinn a great Therapist, a Doctor of Gestalt Therapy, and master of Orgone Therapy.

Armored people are flat water, and Orgone is carbonated, alive. I see people as windows and most have all there windows closed, shut tight. In Orgone Therapy the windows will open inch by inch and sometimes they close back up. Letting the Orgone through the armor allows a whole person to emerge.

Mountain Top

Looking back took forty years to see That catch 22 kept me silent. 

No complaints, no awareness, no know.

 Get angry get beaten. 

Divorced from the puke. 

I have only yearning that keeps me looking at what is past.

 At times I looked to you for for what was not you. I know you saw the Rex in me. 

I loved the fox in you, your sway, your simplicity. 

We turned the banal into pleasure. 

What is 40 years? 

Rex reigned 150 million years.

 I roar for my anger at time knows no limit. Some duster

 will map our skeletons, Not knowing your saintly heart.

Orgone Therapy

I often counted the stars on my ceiling. They
Shined. Then that morning I was taken
Out of my room.
He lied there, no movement, white.
Cold. Ruthless, I would never
Be like him. Who are these people?
I would find another way.
Never pinched like my Grandfather.

Made Me Smile

  



                           She speaks French.
                           The French pop playing.
                           I am doing catto, and wishing
                           For a different outcome.

                           Lately I have seen other worlds.
                           They beckon me.
                        
                           I was reborn through Orgone.
                           Invisible hands held my face and kissed
                           My cheek.
                           Beyond my understanding, Spirit.
                           Then I turn
                           The laundry piled in the corner.
                          

Memories

                 

                  It was Wordsworth who watched the pebble 

                  Circled back to the edge of the Pond.

                  Our eating, our movements take us back. 

                  Reminding of our past

               
                
                   She laid there comatose,  Her tit dry.
                   Who was that? My
                   Tortured movements.
                   Kill that blob of fat.

         .