Samurai Song

When I had no roof I made
Audacity my roof. When I had
No supper my eyes dined.

When I had no eyes I listened.
When I had no ears I thought.
When I had no thought I waited.

When I had no father I made
Care my father. When I had
No mother I embraced order.

When I had no friend I made
Quiet my friend. When I had no
Enemy I opposed my body.

When I had no temple I made
My voice my temple. I have
No priest, my tongue is my choir.

When I have no means fortune
Is my means. When I have
Nothing, death will be my fortune.

Need is my tactic, detachment
Is my strategy. When I had
No lover I courted my sleep.

Robert Pinsky

Click here to watch a great little video of the author reciting this poem.

Overall, I think this poem is an excellent articulation of a Zennish philosophy of resiliency, self-reliance, and resourcefulness that is as practical as it is inspiring. However, I find the language about opposing the body and relating to it as an enemy problematic, to say the least, especially for those of us who were inculcated from childhood onward in the “no pain, no gain” approach to masculinity and living in a male body. As I’ve written previously:

I’d been treating my body like a mechanism for most of my life, a strange and mysterious other that felt external and separate from what I thought of as myself, an unreliable machine that suffered from all sorts of inconvenient problems and breakdowns that no doctor I’d seen could explain. I know now that this sort of separation and dissociation from the body is very common among men and boys in my culture.

I’d like to suggest that readers observe their own reactions to that passage of the poem (“When I had no Enemy I opposed my body.”) as they read it, and consider how it might conflict or correspond with their own assumptions, and with what their own experiences tell them, about how a man can relate most effectively to his body.

Two of these three events (ruptured appendix and broken wrist/shoulder) required major surgeries and nearly a week of hospitalization each. In all three cases, I found myself temporarily helpless, vulnerable, and completely dependent on the kindness, mercy, and generosity of others for my daily survival for extended periods of time. And in all three cases, I was deeply and profoundly reminded that injury and illness, rehabilitation and recovery, and health itself are never purely physical in nature, as so brilliantly expressed in the following poem by D.H. Lawrence.

Healing

I am not a mechanism, an assembly of various sections.
And it is not because the mechanism is working wrongly, that I am ill.
I am ill because of wounds to the soul, to the deep emotional self
and the wounds to the soul take a long, long time, only time can help
and patience, and a certain difficult repentance
long, difficult repentance, realization of life’s mistake, and the freeing oneself
from the endless repetition of the mistake
which mankind at large has chosen to sanctify.

D.H. Lawrence

I hope to write more about the emotional and psychological aspects of my current experience in injury, incapacity, and recovery in a future post.

* The Body – Thoughts – Feelings Connection

* Depressive Realism

* Self Care

The Kellevision blog has been up for a little over a year. It contains a wealth of perceptive, practical information about psychological health and self care, and is updated regularly. I plan to revisit it often to explore the archives as well as to keep up with the latest posts. Highly recommended.

treat your body like a poet
not a whorehouse.

treat your body like a park
not a war zone.

(PDF version)

what’s the half-life of a lousy childhood?
stranglehold tentacles
come out of a house where
nobody I know lives anymore
body and soul clench like a fist
when that hairy hand tries to pull me down
I need lights
I need noise
I need naked female flesh all around
else I implode.

how do I give up what I don’t understand?
this home isn’t broken it’s blown to hell.

now here’s a place where I can be unhappy in peace
totally safe and unbelievable
a crime against everything I was brought up to be
a slap in the face to that guy who thinks
he knows how it’s supposed to be done
a tight connection to all those old friends
I thought I’d left behind
whores just like me
who knows what they sell themselves for?

last chance for ro-mance
take care of these ladies and they’ll take care of you
why do I need this?

the weird thing is I don’t even see
most of these women anymore
not even as objects.

can’t buy a thrill?
sometimes I can sometimes I can’t but
I don’t need a thrill
I need a break.

(PDF version | Video version)

my skin remembers
slap of the flyswatter metal wire handle.

my tongue remembers
bar of soap shoved in my mouth.

my hand remembers
spilled milk on the first day of first grade.

my stomach remembers
crying in front of everyone ’cause I lost the fight.

my knee remembers
wait for me daddy before I fell + broke my leg.

my feet remember
please teach ricky how to skip
pinned to my kindergarten shirt.

my chin remembers
falling out of bed into a
daddy’s mad again hot sunday night.

my nose remembers
can’t breathe comic books in ragweed darkness.

my fingers remember
building model rockets in a cool summer basement.

my neck remembers
father’s hands closing tight around my throat.

my ears remember
mother screaming stop it dick stop it.

time passes but nothing is lost
I can’t fool myself
my body remembers everything.

(PDF version | Video version)

he had a lot of leg cramps at night
he called that a goddam charley horse
I used to wake up with intense pain in my leg
the leg I broke
trying to catch up with him
when I was first learning to walk.

sometimes we’d both wake up at the same time
on the same night
I liked this because I got to spend some quiet time
alone with him.

I never wanted to go back to bed on those nights
we’d sit in the living room or the kitchen
in the dark or with a dim light on
he seemed more open in those moments
I didn’t feel like he hated me then
maybe it was because he was sleepy
or in pain.

those were special occasions for me
nothing to accomplish or be judged on
we each had our own pain
similar but not the same
he was empathetic
I felt connected to him.

in those brief moments
I always felt that I was just like him
just like I always wanted to be.

(PDF version | Video version)

I’m a spiritual child who grows up
being told + shown that
god is just a sunday morning pain in the ass
waiting for me to screw up
so he can rip my life to shreds.

I’m a passionate child who grows up
being told + shown that
feelings are unacceptable + dangerous
to myself + others.

I’m a creative child who grows up
being told + shown that
adults don’t have time to be creative.

I’m an honest child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’m always supposed to tell the truth but
it’s usually safer + more acceptable to lie.

I’m an independent child who grows up
being told + shown that
going my own way leads to rejection + disaster.

I’m an intuitive child who grows up
being told + shown that
I need a logical justification for
everything I do say + feel.

I’m a smiling child who grows up
being told + shown that
laughter is the best medicine but
happy people usually get punished somehow.

I’m an energetic child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’m not doing enough because I’m lazy.

I’m a gifted child who grows up
being told + shown that
my contributions aren’t very important in this world.

I’m a curious child who grows up
being told + shown that
self-awareness endangers the family
so I’d better not question things too much.

I’m a patient child who grows up
being told + shown that
there’s not enough time
I’m going too slow
everyone’s tired of waiting for me.

I’m a bright child who grows up
being told + shown that
the brain is where it’s at but
people who make a living with their brains
are lazy bastards.

I’m a trusting child who grows up
being told + shown that
I don’t deserve to be trusted + trust
opens the door to abuse.

I’m a hopeful child who grows up
being told + shown that
life is a series of unhappy events + disasters
so don’t expect too much.

I’m an innocent child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’m a bad boy + I oughta be ashamed of myself.

I’m an open-hearted child who grows up
being told + shown that
I’ll never be good enough
I’ll never be loved enough
I’ll never be man enough.

I’m a sad frightened
lonely needy
raging hurting child.

(PDF version)

my shoulders are connected to my head
my arms come out of my ears
my legs come out of my back
my hands come out of my chest.

I’m a hunchback
I’m a razor blade
I’m a boy scout
I’m afraid.

(PDF version)

spirituality is a vibrant awakening consciousness
a deep and present awareness of ourselves
of everyone and everything around us
it’s knowing that our words and our actions matter
even when no one hears and no one sees
it’s listening to the heart and the mind and the body
to moon stars sun and trees
to wind fire rain and earth
to animals and plants
to dreams and daydreams
to grief and anger and hunger and sex
to all of the feelings we’ve been told not to have
and all of the thoughts we’ve been taught not to think
in the right balance
in the right time.

spirituality demands critical thinking
it requires curiosity
a desire to know what’s real
a willingness to strip off conditioned patterns of perception and habit and belief
layer by layer
regardless of personal cost
because otherwise
truth and truthfulness are lost.

spirituality is facing the mysteries of life and death
without hiding from questions that cannot be answered
and without the comfort of tall tales passed down through a million dark nights
it’s knowing that we are not alone
because we’re all here together
and it’s all up to us
together.

(PDF version)

when I breathe I feel
the pressure of my sorrow
the weight of 10,000 uncried tears.

when I breathe I feel
the power of my shame
a jagged chunk of black ice lodged
deep in my throat.

when I breathe I feel
the animal life
animal fear + animal sadness
animal panic + animal loss.

when I breathe I feel
the screws in my chest beginning to loosen
+ the life I’ve known for so long
coming to an end.

(PDF version)

http://www.helium.com/items/1271265-listen-to-the-body

we have everything we need to live in paradise
for everyone
but we’re eating it all up
and crapping it all out
as fast as we can
faster faster faster
more more more
hoard hoard hoard
mine mine mine
consume dispose consume
until it’s all gone
while high-def flat screen phantoms
shiny electrodistractors
and cell phone brain parasites
eat our time and our minds and our lives.

we live and die in a group trance
a mass of mass dreams
in which someone else’s dreams
are more real to us than our own
whose dream is this
whose dream do you serve
your conditioning is more than you realize.

stop
take a moment
take a breath
check your body
and ask yourself
am I awake right now
or am I dreaming someone else’s dream.

(PDF version)

http://www.selfgrowth.com/articles/The_Body_is_the_Gateway.html

Two of the first and most fundamental questions to ask when seeking information from the body are:

• What am I feeling?
• Where am I feeling it?

Posing these two questions to yourself, and listening for the answers, provides a great starting point. But what then? How does one approach the resulting information and work with it? I’d like to share some thoughts and ideas from my own experience.

Everything is alive in its own way. Everything may be thought of as energy. Everyone and everything has its own life process. Respect the autonomy and the boundaries of these processes in all cases.

Let things speak for themselves, whether seeking information in the body, in waking reality, in dreams, whatever the context. Maintain an open, friendly attitude toward whoever or whatever presents itself to you. Ask questions: Who or what are you? Why are you here? What is your story, or what would you like to tell me?

When presented with pain or discomfort in the body, ask the same questions. Be still, be patient, and listen for whatever comes. It may be a word, an image, an impression, a feeling, or something else. Your body may have a story to tell you. Allow the story to come. Note any changes in the body … relaxation, movement of energy, change in breathing. Let the story unfold until it seems to be finished. Let imagination work to bring the information to full consciousness.

The body is a container, a vessel, a vehicle for the expression of energy. Sometimes energy gets stuck or trapped. This can result in physical pain, discomfort, structural problems, or illness. A story is also a container, a vessel, a vehicle for the expression of energy. Energy can be trapped in the body in the form of a story. Some stories that emerge from the body are literally true and verifiable in terms of one’s real world experience. This type of story is often referred to as a body memory. But stories that emerge from the body need not be literally true and verifiable in terms of one’s real world experience to have value.

Sometimes valid stories emerge from the body in other forms, such as fantasies, or as streams of images, words, or feelings with no clear narrative and no obvious connection to the conscious world. Some stories emerge from the body in the form of what is often called a “past life” memory. From the standpoint of using the information for insight and healing, it doesn’t matter if a fantasy or a stream of images makes sense at first, or if a past life memory is literally and verifiably true. What matters is whether or not the energy the story contains and expresses feels real and authentic in the body and the psyche. The metaphorical significance of the information may be evident almost immediately, or it may reveal itself gradually over time.

When working with the body, it’s very important to ask for information before trying to jump straight from problem to solution in an effort to try to make the pain or the problem go away. Explore, investigate, listen. The simple process of focusing patient, understanding attention on an area of discomfort will often effect a shift that is significant enough to transform or clear any underlying psychic issue, and clear or significantly reduce the associated pain or physical discomfort in the body as well.

Such a shift may also be accompanied by a surprising psychological insight that puts the original issue in a new, more understandable context and provides a sense of greater peace or completion in relation to that issue.

The body is the gateway to the knowledge of the soul. The physical experience of the body provides many rich opportunities for self-exploration and healing. Our stories are with us throughout our lives, wherever we go, waiting there in our bodies to be discovered, heard, acknowledged, understood, and finally, released.

(PDF version)

“My dream is made in my body.”

- Eugene Gendlin, Let Your Body Interpret Your Dreams

I first discovered the relationship between poetry, dreams, and the body in the process of writing my book, Iron Man Family Outing. In fact, the book was the direct result of my exploration of that relationship. I was having a lot of important dreams at the time, filled with detail and information that required my attention and action, and I was finding it harder and harder to get everything down in my journals each morning. One day I got the idea that maybe I could record my dreams more concisely as poetry rather than as prose, and it worked pretty well for me. So well, in fact, that after a few months, I found that I was writing a book … a book with a title that came to me in one of my dreams.

I was also, at that time, coming into a new form of relationship with my body. I’d been treating my body like a mechanism for most of my life, a strange and mysterious other that felt external and separate from what I thought of as myself, an unreliable machine that suffered from all sorts of inconvenient problems and breakdowns that no doctor I’d seen could explain. I know now that this sort of separation and dissociation from the body is very common among men and boys in my culture. I also know now that it’s common to another demographic group of which I am also a member: adult survivors of childhood abuse.

Somehow, and I honestly can’t say how this came about, I found that my body was, like my dreams, another rich source of imagery and information that expressed itself well in poetic language. I believe this discovery was largely stimulated by the emotional processing work I was doing at the time, in which I was taught to tune into my body as a way to locate and unlock the psychological and emotional energy I’d been forced to repress as a child. As time went on, I gradually began to see my body as a partner rather than as an adversary. I also found that my body had something to say. I only had to give it the time and the space to speak.

In a poem called “body memory” from Iron Man Family Outing, I said:

time passes but nothing is lost
I can’t fool myself
my body remembers everything.

Poetry is the language of my dreams and my body. In my experience, in life and as well as in writing, poetry, dreams, and the body are intertwined and inseparable.