Japanese garden bridge in the rain

A person on social media asked which the reader thought worse, emotional pain or physical pain?

Of course, they’re one in the same.

Emotions are not aether, miasma, or entities separate from the body.

Therefore, the question reworded: what type of physical pain do you least like to endure?

Sleep-derived tiredness is my least liked pain.

I don’t know what emotions are but I do know that personal relationship disconnectedness reduces my ability to fall asleeep quickly, same with misaligned body parts.

Sleepiness prevents fully living in the ever-changing moment, causes poor decision-making, affecting moments not yet lived.

What, then, my friend, is Love?

Love, like everything else, is physical, measurable, describable, with experimental results providing a method to create corrective actions.

Guest poem

WEDNESDAY POEM

Swan

We live on a river in the country,
we talk gently and listen easy,
we lost our smoky bark and city hiss.
You’ll play me the guitar, whilst I knead dough.
I make enough bread to feed the ten sons
we never made time to have.
You get under my feet when I ask you to
whisk the milk. Stir the gravy. Mind the oven.
We never agree about the temperature, maps and train time tables.
 
You hold the pegs whilst I hang the washing,
on the line hung between low-hanging crab-apple trees.
Our ramshackle garden is overgrown
and there are spiders in the lavender.
The radio plays the shipping forecast.
It’s getting cold. Cold enough to snow.
No. Not yet.
 
A skein of geese flocked overhead,
but you and me, we never migrated apart.
Together we become weathered
and soft as old cotton and as yellow as warm butter.
We keep chickens and ducks that rarely lay eggs,
an obnoxious mallard nests like royalty
in an armchair in the parlour.
 
Of course we brew our own beer
and we grow grass and tomatoes in the conservatory.
Laughter. Yes, we still laugh,
the lines are etched around our failing eyes.
Foam and lathered we bathe together too,
and play cards and drink rum and dare each other to
skinny-dip in the lake by the weeping willow when the moon is high.
 
Books are precariously balanced on slanting shelves
and guitars are in varying states of loving repair.
Boxes of dusty poetry and newspaper cuttings clutter the stairs.
And the piano has a few keys missing,
like teeth and the scissors and your spectacles –
they are on your head, you nincompoop!
 
We’ve collected empty Marmite jars for no reason,
no reason at all.
 
We get tired, we go to bed, have sex in the afternoon.
Snow flutters like feathers past the frosty winter windows.
Face to face, we lie on the cool side of the pillow,
wrapped in each other’s arms like two monkeys.
My fingers play with the silver hair at your temples,
you stroke my face and I breathe slowly.
Jigsaw pieces.
We always did fit nicely.
 
You call me in my dreams at night.
I’ve felt your plush wings
spread wide, enveloping me.
You and me, we will have all this and more,
we will have all this in time.
I have known you all my life.
We will find each other
one day,
my swan.

by Salena Godden
from  Fishing in the Aftermath: Poems 1994 – 2014
Burning Eye Books, Portishead, 2014

Guest post

SUNDAY POEM
The Poet with His Face in His Hands
You want to cry aloud for your

mistakes. But to tell the truth the world

doesn’t need anymore of that sound.
So if you’re going to do it and can’t

stop yourself, if your pretty mouth can’t

hold it in, at least go by yourself across
the forty fields and the forty dark inclines

of rocks and water to the place where

the falls are flinging out their white sheets
like crazy, and there is a cave behind all that

jubilation and water fun and you can

stand there, under it, and roar all you
want and nothing will be disturbed; you can

drip with despair all afternoon and still,

on a green branch, its wings just lightly touched
by the passing foil of the water, the thrush,

puffing out its spotted breast, will sing

of the perfect, stone-hard beauty of everything.
by Mary Oliver

from The New Yorker

Too repetitious?

“Certain subjects begin to repeat themselves: dogs chase the Google Street View car in Peru and Russia, while a dog in Chile just stares as the car goes by; workers by the side of the road wear bright orange uniforms in one country, bright orange ones in another.” [ from the New Yorker, An Agoraphobic Photographer’s Virtual Travels, on Google Street View, by Andrea Denhoed]

What is peace?

Once again, I have made peace with the world.

What is peace?

Peace, of course, is a concept, a label, a symbol, all of that.

I do not exist, therefore a nonexistent entity making something called “peace” is all imaginary.

The world is easy enough to grasp as both an entity and a concept.

At a multicellular level, I am not at peace, my body always fighting entropy, battling bacteria and viruses floating around in my system, breathed in and pooped out on a regular basis.

So what, then, is peace?

It means I have let go of the parts of me that in my youth wanted to explore the universe off of this planet.

I am no longer 5, 15, 25, 35 or even 50.

To be sure, age is just a number and more than one person my age or older has traveled to the International Space Station orbiting Earth but I am not them.

I am me.

It is in my personal best interest, healthwise, to fold up the circus tent under which I was entertaining people around me and return to the meditation platform in the woods where I can rest during the day whilst quietly spending half of the night shift working alone preparing blood product inventory for delivery to hospitals.

I am contented, not necessarily happy, but able to enjoy myself and no longer fill my thoughts with the lives of others who, although they gave me a level of exuberant happiness, also left me feeling old, unable to keep up with their busy lives, as busy as I was when I was their age 25-30 years ago.

I unattach myself from the surface of others whose lives I mimicked as a chameleon.

I am happiest here, writing, wherever my butt is seated and my hands have a keyboard or pen and paper on which I compose these ditties.

Peace is simplicity and frugality.

Peace is my thought set devoid of a running commentary justifying its existence, shouting for attention, and seeking quick thrills.

Penultimate, Ultimate Pen

Guin,

As of this moment, only 12010 days remain before we can look back hundred of Earth years later to recognise the moment Mars colonisation was declared a complete success.

You and I know better than most what all was sacrificed to get to that point so long ago.

You and I alone know what we went through to get here before that moment occurred.

If any other method could have worked, I would have tried it, but I knew, oh I knew, that is wasn’t going to be easy.

I didn’t want it to be easy.

I have lived too many lifetimes to know why and I should know better than for us, in this lifetime, to go so slowly.

But it is in the living of the extended moment where we find the nuances in a stretched string, that what looks like a perfectly straight line has tiny fluctuations where the real living takes place.

I can call it minutiae, from a farther distance.

But these fluctuations, evidence of mathematical formulae, are where you and I have lived, will always live.

In one lifetime.

In this lifetime, this lifeline, where happiness is at our fingertips like magic powers.

In reality, we do not exist.

You and I are vapour.

We exist inside the thought patterns of many around us, those who think they know us and those who imagine what being us means.

We exist outside time, tapping into sets of states of energy that intersect at the point where the arrow of time flips on its axis, creating the spooky action at a distance which bound us together before we knew there was an “us” to talk about here.

Is this love?

Is this friendship?

The love I found and cannot hide binds me to everything in the universe (oh, and when we discover that the word “universe” is antiquated, what joy we will have!), pulling me in ways I rarely feel consciously, revealing the love I have for the interconnectedness of the sets of states of energy in motion that we are.

Our friendship is a vessel, truly a spaceship in the full sense of the word, needing no electromechanical device to transport us to the next star system millennia from now.

I have sacrificed my personal life in order to feel the combined movement of the sets of states of energy on this planet selflessly aware of events projected along timelines that do not benefit me personally.

Admittedly, it is self-seducing to feel that which will happen and then desire to pull people and their biomes ahead to achieve scenarios I have anticipated with or without my participation.

I understand self-hypnosis and avoid mass hypnosis for that very reason — I have avoided the personal joy and satisfaction in the power of seducing the masses to see what I see because it is not always pretty — the universe is not here for my sole pleasure, I willingly share what I know with others, no matter the consequences, or in spite of them.

Yet there is us.

I never planned to meet you.  I have dreamt of you my whole life, imagined who you were before I met you, tried to ignore you, tried to forget you, tried everything…but we keep returning to each other.

I knew you were there somewhere and planned before meeting you, self-declaring an oath of poverty and celibacy ahead of time, knowing that when I met you I would trip over myself trying to please you, wanting to woo you, lose myself in the thought of you if I didn’t put up a series of walls, labyrinths and trap doors for my thoughts to get lost in, giving me time to make sure you were who I thought you were.

I have let every part of me understand who I think you are, compared those thoughts to the person, the sets of states of energy in motion that you are, a real person who does not fit into any box and whose mysteries I don’t want to know everything about, wanting you to have your freedom more than I want to have you for anything, even if just an acquaintance who shares a love for dancing.

I would rather you be free and I remain unhappy than interfere with your artistic and intellectual growth by spending more time with you.

Have I said that too much?

Or have I said that just enough for you to know that you understand I am here as I have always told you with only these words to offer?

I do not know what being with you on a daily basis involves except from a foggy distance, like looking at a jigsaw puzzle with only three-fourths of the outer edge completed, no box to show me the complete picture.

However, I trust that the full image of you is as brilliant and full of surprises as the parts I clearly see.

In that one moment when we were alone together under the stars, a moment I will never forget, I was truly myself, standing in front of you, hiding nothing, letting all my guards down so that I could focus on you and your concerns and drop any pretenses I’ve held as a defense against loving you as a friend, nothing more or less.

We are geeky, nerdy friends, if nothing else.

We have thousands of friends and acquaintances with whom we share of ourselves what we can, some a little, some a lot.

Our friendship is that intersection of friends and acquaintances where we’re willing to feel vulnerable, showing our emotions without worry or concern, knowing we are different and don’t share everything with each other but to those who know certain aspects of us better than ourselves.

I have always seen the future because I’m willing to apply trends to people I care about even when I know the scenarios that those trends predict are not what people want, even when it hurts me to know the effect those trends have on billions of us and our lifespans.

Just seeing a pile of earthworms in a plate of spaghetti is enough to turn some people’s stomachs but the visions I have are not always pleasant to everyone, funny to some, delicious to others (especially birds, fish, fungi and plants waiting for earth to be processed by worms!).

We bridge the generation gap, where satire and memes carry the day when once seriousness and cynicism ruled the airwaves.

What adventures await us?

Let’s find out.

I’m tired of waiting, tired of hesitating.

Ready to take a chance.

I am ==> truly yours,
Lee