Tag Archives: psychology

Surrounded

The echos of my world reverberate within my soul. That space the doesn’t feel, but absorbs that which cannot be processed but with time. This space leaves my silence thundering across the horizon.

This is the beat my spirit dances and sleeps. I carry this weightless feeling with a heavy heart. The motion of my soul writhes in anguish, but all you see is a dancing fool.

There is a world within me that never stops beating. Fighting for every thought against a world of oppression. I’ll never be free until I grasp the wind that moves my spirit; but who can hold a soul. Its like grasping smoke after the fire has smoldered and darkness set in. It’s just faith.

I’ve slowed down to the point my mind races. Noticing the spirits that inhabit my world is dangerous. Part of us becomes them. You can’t defend your soul, it just absorbs, then the spirit moves till your mind awakens, but then it is to late. The damage or blessing is done. Then it’s time to heal or celebrate, but if even for a minute, all you did was drift.

This world is so much more than what we see. I sympathize with those that question truth. It’s hard to create a harmony between what we’re feeling, our action, and our thoughts. It’s much more complex than awareness, it’s freedom.

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Silent truths

God is looking for that person who doesn’t know there’s a heaven but leads a truthful life. The one who does good for goodness sake unaware that He is watching.

You can’t aspire, seek, or desire without imperfection. The sentiments can be beautiful, but flawed non the less. This is humilities role, we can only try.

I used to listen to the attacks on truth today in wonder. I no longer wonder, but still shake my head in concern. The truth is folks don’t want to hear it. I’m not talking about the Gospel truth. We can’t get near that today for fear of human truth.

Today you’re supposed to ignore the truth for the perspective another espouses. So if you’re having a conversation and someone says something that isn’t quite true you’re supposed to ignore this lie for the benefit of the premise outlined. It’s ignorance, and a childish behavior.

So if I’m talking to a friend and they are telling me about the trouble in their life and all the misdeeds done to them, I’m supposed to ignore everything self inflicted to bolster the idea that they are the victim.

Never mind the fact that they drink too much, or self medicate, or use co dependent relationships to fill their lives with drama due to an absence of authentic relationships that are mutually affectionate and caring.

The examples are endless, but I have a couple favorites. Suppose you are the caring person for a moment. Unfortunately your “friend” isn’t so caring. So you take time to invite them to lunch. You want to make it special so you actually invite them to your home and prepare lunch. You spend hours on this labor of love making everything perfect.

Upon arrival your friend complains about travel and forgets to say hello. When you sit down to eat they excuse theirselves to the restroom for a lengthily stay. Upon return they list for you again their illnesses or troubles. When it’s time to eat your friend feigns decor and doesn’t complain, but associated illnesses and memories with each course you’ve prepared. All the while intermittently commenting on how they love the meal, but explaining its effect.

At the end of the meal your efforts just become another story in the repertoire of histories your friend uses against you. Never mind your efforts, your thoughts, or the care you’ve taken. Your “friend” has manipulated you into this pleasing state of bondage that becomes the basis of a co dependent existence you feel guilty about interrupting.

This is manipulative behavior. It’s how narcissist create victims. Beware of these “friends” and ensure that you’re always especially honest with them and call them out. Remind them of how their acting. I’m not saying they can’t be true friends, but you will have to be guarded with them.

One of my other favorite characters is the victim. Lord knows there’s enough bad, or evil, around to fill everyone’s life. Some folks make this a career. They ride bad situations like trail horse that just ain’t been ridden. They exaggerate the parts of the ride they avoided disaster, and lament the part where they couldn’t stay on the horse.

Addicts use this tactic. Understand that there are probably more addicts out there not diagnosed than there are celebrating recovery. Functioning addicts and non functioning addicts being supported by co dependent family and friends do more damage to society than the ones that overdose or end up in prison. They capture entire families in a web of dysfunction. Everyone in the game hides from the truth to further their own insecurities in a comfortable manner. “At least I’m not……..

I may be self medicating, but I’m not on the streets. I may take a lot of OxyContin or Adderall, but I’m not shooting heroin or smoking meth. The real popular one is pot. I just smoke enough to calm me down or help me sleep. It matters not to these folks that an altered consciousness creates an altered reality, that’s an innocent truth.

The list of truths we hide from are endless. Bad boys or girls who make us victims to be felt sorry for. Drugs that stigmatize over drugs that are prescribed. Hiding truths of psychological manipulation to feel needed or loved. Even denying the truth for living a lie.

I’m not afraid of truth anymore. I don’t wonder about why folks choose to portray truth as subjective. Truth is hard. The person delivering and receiving have to be ready to experience it. To deliver truth if one or the other isn’t ready is traumatic, and dramatic folks thrive on this mistake.

In the end we have to acknowledge truth and understand that in some relationships it’s so difficult that the alternative seems the only safe choice. The sad truth is we can’t all decide today to let go and just tell the truth because the world would be turnt on its head. This maybe why God is so silent. Sometimes silence is the clearest mirror to reality.

Guns, Drugs, and Burgers

You ever kneel down to a three year old and hold up three fingers and ask them how old they are. They light up and proudly hold their three fingers up and answer, “I’m three”!

Then you change the configuration of your three fingers and ask again and they respond, “No!” Holding up the original three fingers and repeat in a determined tone, “I’m this many!” This is our dilemma socially when it comes to society and culture.

The latest shooting in Florida is another in the tragedies involving guns. There are many folks out there who do not like guns and use these situations to further their delusions that guns are dangerous. They do this to the detriment of all of us.

I don’t want to focus on the family and community failing this kid and his victims. I want to focus on mental health. We do not understand mental health as a nation and refuse to listen to the folks that do understand it because the voice of ignorance is to damned loud. Guns don’t kill people, people kill people. Until we understand this basic premise we’ll continue to see incidents like this because there are a lot of sick and neglected young folks out there that we’ve marginalized.

You don’t have to stretch the imagination far to consider sexual abuse in the same light. Luckily mental health folks are very involved with this problem in America. They have to work real hard to be heard over law enforcement budget concerns and a sensationalized justice system.

For years we were told to watch for the guy in the trench coat hanging around the neighborhood. Now we’re told to watch the computer screen for predators lurking in the dark web. This allowed law enforcement to create a whole bureaucracy within the justice system. The incidence of these crimes haven’t subsided, like school shootings.

The reason these issues are still prevalent is because the whole time the real danger for most victims was in the family or family friendships. The majority of the perpetrators didn’t fly in from outta state to abuse a child, they were already in the house or neighborhood going to parties or get togethers forming relationships and trust. That’s not as sensational as the guy caught on camera meeting a 15 year old in a sting set up on TV.

We don’t even consider the psychology behind the horrific legacy because the headlines are sensational. The answer is identification of behaviors and treatment to prevent these tragedies.

Addiction to drugs is another “epidemic” in America. For over a century we have labored under the ignorance that “it takes an addict to treat an addict.” This is another mental health area that the folks who understand the condition have been drowned out. Mostly by entrepreneurs seeking to come further outta their own addiction.

These folks kept the narrative quasi spiritual with an experiential twist. “If you haven’t been there, you don’t understand!” Soon religion got involved and turned the “12 Steps” into some purpose driven stairway to heaven. These systems could do more harm than good. Mental health professionals understand addiction on a therapeutic level that have psychological principles as their foundations.

They understand the addiction is a symptom. They understand that an addict is an addict. Whether you’re a 40 year old upper middle class house wife popping Xanax and hydrocodone to make it through the day or a heroine addict drawing water from a mud puddle to heat your fix, you’re the same. They understand that the addiction, regardless of its form, is a response to the addicts experiences. Not the drug choice.

Another fiction we’ve endured is the “cop shooting” lie. I call it a lie because this one is purposely developed. The real issue was not race. It was about poverty and policing. We still never got to the bottom of the issue because we never identified the issue.

Turns out it didn’t matter what race you were, if you were living in the lower socio economic class you were more likely to end up in a violent confrontation. Poverty, not race was the variable we should have been looking at.

The other issue is law enforcement leadership. First problem is the “close ranks” mentality that had folks shaking their heads and confirming for many that police were above the law.

Second was the fact that folks were being shot in the head or shot with tens of rounds. Anyone who has been around weapons understands this is a training issue. You’re either not properly trained or trained to kill, that’s fact.

Leadership, the guys in the offices, seem only interested in careers and photo ops. They seem outta touch with the guys on the ground “driving” a beat. They weren’t interested in policing, they were driven by spreadsheets and promotions.

Lastly the dollars involved corrupted the system. The rules rewarding departments through seizures changed policing to bounty hunters. If you don’t make the big bust your representatives and leaders are asking questions because the jurisdiction next to you just had a 3 million dollar photo op and received a nice chunk of military surplus for their “X Force. Now you have bounty hunters that used to be police dressed as soldiers. The communities see this and react with their own ideas of who’s the bad guy and what does that really mean.

We could go on about McDonalds and obesity. Casinos and gambling, or alcohol and driving. It doesn’t matter the vice you chose. The food, drug, sexual partner, weapon you chose is you reacting to your environment. Your actions based on your mental condition. Focusing on the weapon, pill, or burger is not a solution. It’s a co dependent approach to curing social ills by folks who have no business in the socio political culture of leadership.

Mental health is the most important topic of our times. There are entire cultures suffering from cognitive dissonances as family values. There are political structures that are developed on co dependent strategies. There are folks out there who benefit financially and politically from these confusions. We need the mental health community to sound off. Take a stand and send the message that only psychologist, psychiatrist, therapist and counselors can help us identify the origins of our ills.

Media has become the bitch to the highest bidder. It’s ideologically bankrupt and only interested in sensationalizing American life. You wouldn’t call a carpenter for a broken leg. We need to take a stand against ignorance to save our sanity.

Billions of kids went to school yesterday and came home with bags of Valentine goodies. Hundreds of thousands of people came home from surgery and can’t wait to get off their pain meds. Billions of gun owners shot paper targets and cleaned their weapons and billions of family members and friends hugged a child without ill intentions. This is the time for thinking. Reacting got us here, the same place we’ve been stuck forever.

Night Sweats

I dream long nights away to other fortunes. Like the sweat from arduous journeys; the scenes twist my fears and desires into macabre premises. Relentlessly I forge ahead through lucid expressions of guilt or joy painting memories from reality. Awakening between here and there leaves me rigid within the breath of now.

It’s here I’m an artist. I paint without brushes, write with my thoughts, or make love with my mind satisfying the worlds desire to consume me. This is a battle in a war that has waged within my souls since dreams were born.

I’m no warrior or epic lover conquering my ego, more of an observer of possibilities yet realized. Here, in the safety of the subconscious I see the world through my eyes. No filters to color people or anoint my belief. Here I’m human and true to something beyond reality.

Like the child stoically looking through the rear window of a car as it slowly drives through the fog of gray leaving something behind that will never be found, I’m outside of myself, divorced from the nature of my silence by layers of understanding.

These are silent films. Noise is expressed through colorful scenes and emotions. I know the colors that represent the set, but I’m smart enough to leave that pallet on the shelf, so as not to hinder the meanings I want myself to feel. Color gets in the way of feeling the meanings, like emotions mask the lovers affair with herself.

Dreamers speak of awakenings as if the morning won’t return to day and put to rest the nights toil. We live in an awakening of denial that all we see, all we feel, our entire existence is nothing more than an awakening to self; we always know.

In the end we are a dream. We are a history. Most importantly we are here as a possibility. The most import part of that possibility isn’t food, family, or fortunes. The most important part of that possibility is shaped by those hours spent in another reality realizing fears or conjuring desires that shape tomorrow behind the scrim of now. It’s here monsters and miracles share meanings and myths.

Healthcare Hustle

I’m hating all this healthcare noise dude.

It’s all a lie to prop up an industry. We know that don’t work. Subsidies sunk the automotive industry, mortgage industry, real estate, and now we’re seeing an end of the insurance industry that props up the healthcare industry. Subsidies basically mean I have a great idea that won’t really work, but will make a bunch of people happy as long as you pay for it.

Healthcare funding is really evil. These folks create a sliding scale of health that is akin to niches like the automotive industry. Say you get an error code for emissions and the mechanic tells you it could be a sensor. You replace the sensor and find out your gas cap is not tightened.

Same thing with fibromyalgia. You get told it could be arthritis but the rheumatologist won’t see you because really it is a psychological issue. You get told it could be nerve pain, but the neurologist tells you your synapses fire fine. Now we venture into the sliding scale of autoimmune up to and including MS. So now you’ve been poked and shocked to the point your pain meds have been quadrupled and you still haven’t visited the psychologist.

Now since we can’t find out what’s wrong with you we’ll diagnose you with fibromyalgia, give you meds for nerve pain and one for nociceptive pain to determine another origin. In the end it was psychogenic pain because your gas cap wasn’t on tight, so now you have another pill.

These designer conditions and syndromes invisibly supply addicts with dignity and a legal hustle that destroy families and communities under the guise of medical mysteries when we all “wink and nod” knowing the psychologist knows.

The hustles too deep though. It’s got the patient, the doctor, and the pharmacist locked up in a twisted dance of dollars and dysfunction that has whole families broke and confused while the Doctor and pharmacist tan, riding jet skies on the weekend at family vacation homes. Meanwhile family members scrape up dollars for noodles and cigarettes.

It’s so deep that those folks in Washington are declaring a war on the drugs that are subsidizing their salaries. It really ain’t just drugs though. Them asshats try to hang Ronald McDonald from the arches because there are too many motorized shopping carts in the grocery store. Or the tired ass parent conspiring with a school teacher to medicate little Johnny, then talk about how he don’t like to eat, feigning worry about his weight.

Now they all have support groups. So if you get a condition or syndrome there ain’t no definitive medical diagnosis for like ADHD or fibromyalgia you can join an on line group, order colored t shirts and ribbons, and walk around a track aimlessly together once a year raising money to fund research into creating your medical mystery.

It’s ludicrous because you can’t even question the hustle without seeming like your evil. Folks get territorial when it comes to their addictions. You start to tell folks that the hustles over you’ll have anarchy.

I mean, look around you for a minute. How many folks do you know who are on some kind of medicine. It’s crazy. Either we’re suffering a mass extinction slowly devolving or we’re becoming collectively crazy and would rather medicate something or someone than deal with them or it.

All I know is that some signs are obvious. I don’t care personally if you shop for a condition or syndrome. I don’t care if you hustle meds for cigarette money. I don’t care if you have grander plans for a check. Dude, I ain’t interested in the misery that comes for those few dollars. The process would give me PTSD. Just please don’t ask me to “wink and nod” with you. My eyes are drying out and I’ve got vertigo from shaking my head.

Giving Back

I hesitate, my instincts too far beyond my surroundings

Alert, in tune with my heartbeat and the earths warnings

Now I must stop and seek cover from what I fear

Not cowering, not hiding, but living on the edge of finality it’s clear

Trust is the luxury of believers, I’m not a believer anymore, I’m here

Somewhere between safe and sound, I can no longer wander

It serves me well to stay in the shadows, alert and alive

I don’t need the lie anymore. I know under that beautiful garden there’s violence and decay, things we know, but don’t speak of

Don’t sell me assurances you can’t provide, I’m safe alone

I’m tired of all these people I have to be just to make your world complete

It’s been so long you don’t know which one is me, because you fell, fell into the trap and got ensnared in the one that you could never be for more than a moment

I was hear all along watching you melt under the light of an abstract dream. It was warm for a moment, but only the sun can bring true light, true warmth. The others just illuminated what they wish you to see, what they want you to be

Now your not human, not a person, but a part of something so much bigger than you that you can’t see it’s nothing, you’re nothing. You’ve been put to sleep in someone else’s dream.

Not I. I am wild, but free. I feel the heat of the day and shiver in darkness under the moons glow dreaming of sunrises.

What good is a sunset anyway. The end of a day shouldn’t be honored, it should be remembered. Where did we learn to worship the end of anything, it’s beginnings that have hope. All we have in sunsets are reflections and regrets

So I’ll keep your smile and give you back your watch. I’ll keep the sound of your voice, but give you back your words. You’ll need your hands, so I’ll leave with your touch gently caressing my heart. Everything else belonged to the world anyway.

Of Nature and Desire

Concentrically narrowing foliage chokes my optimism with caution. Thorns and petals stalk my path to a less humid endeavors. But this is how truth hides, just beyond the greenery withering in all of us.

The canopy has levels that reveal light one shard at a time, until your above the tangle of vines where there is no forest floor. All you see is beauty framed by heaven as fresh air wisps away the rot decaying below.

If only I could fly away to stone. An edifice imagined. Stolid and thoughtful granite curves that time hides. Water cascades over the riffs she’s etched in my strength. Sun glistens on the darkness creating black rainbows in the mist, and lichen warms the crevices of my souls.

The beauty of this carnage we call nature is odd, like love it takes great pains and grows with time, only to be passed on to the budding life below. The tallest trees see it while taking warmth from above, mocking us as their roots draw from our strength. Their saplings without us withering in the clutches of vines, but it’s beauty to the naive.

Life is a beautiful struggle between our nature and our ideals, between our needs and desires. Inside us the biological and psychological battles constantly feed on us like the worms that till our soul, but all we see are faces as we paint our landscape with beauty.