A Mind of One's Own

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

“It is amazing how complete the delusion that beauty is goodness.” – Leo Tolstoy

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.”- Steve Jobs

Everyone has doubts and will often seek advice. The best advice my mother ever gave me was “Never forget you are your own person, son. Take a good look at any doubts you may have, come to your own conclusions and go your own way. You may be right, you may be wrong, but you’ll find out sooner or later and it’s never to late to change course.”

I know people who are contemptuous of professional counsellors, invariably commenting to the effect that anyone can give advice. A professional counsellor, though, is trained to assess what’s best for whoever is asking. Too often, we may turn to someone we know well, and that person genuinely has our best interests at heart, but any advice given is as likely as not to be what they would do if they were in our position; only, they are not, are they...?

Despite my mother’s good advice, I have taken bad advice in the past, lived to regret it and, yes, had  to change course... for better or worse, but still here at 76, so must have got something right.  😉

A MIND OF ONE’S OWN

I see who I am
warts ‘n’ all, happy-sad and glad
to be so, no character
in a soap opera on the radio
or TV, nor someone
for whom my family nurse ambitions
for needing me to be seen
doing better than a neighbourhood mate
before it’s too late...

I have needed
mentors, teachers, both in and out
of school, showing me
how it’s done, this growing up to be
my own person,
not some copycat version created
by those closest to me
thinking they know the ‘real’ me they see,
that’s but their fantasy

They mean no harm,
quite the reverse, those who imagine
they can read me
chapter and verse, and thereby hangs,
a tragedy, expectations
of various projections always there
at my shoulder
as I get older, a mind of my own grown wise
to their ways

It’s bad enough being told
this or that job or profession is out
of the question...
because we haven’t the intelligence
or aptitude for...whatever,
few people thinking to reason why
I have dreams I need
to try out for size, and if I can’t fit into them,
my fault, not theirs

Oh, and what of stereotypes
around for centuries, given a new
lease of life
on social media, scaring everyone
should they get ideas
and (heaven forbid) starts scoring points
over subscribers,
pointing fingers as may give a mind-body-spirit
food for thought?

Every society and community
has its own agenda, to be recommended
in all sincerity
by such powers that be as positioned
to impose their authority
and integrity on any ear, trusting
those pricking up won’t dare
question either, no interest in sleights of argument,
only consent...

So, first choice, personal space,
to be or not to be a place we can hide away
or embrace each day
with both hands, our fair share of its ups
and down all but certain,
but certain, too, of doing our best,
in a world of winner, losers
and many a beggar, too, the poorer still for a devil
on the shoulder

For any tears shed, loves lost
and won, even toes trod on (serves them right)
whatever our ethnicity,
creed, sexuality, political persuasion,
just as all opinions matter,
deserve a voice, so, too, do all lives,
many deserving better
than being misled by life forces perceived as allies,
proven enemies

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

 

 

 

Two (poems) for the Price of One

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

After two years of learning to live with the Covid-19 pandemic, tempers are beginning to fray for whom some, who were living on The Edge even before the pandemic, pent-up feelings of frustration have sought release in a variety of ways, some violent. While there can be no excuse for violence against another, mental health issues should never be underestimated, especially in such times as we are living in now.

A healthy diet and regular exercise can help to alleviate stress,, of course, but self-help isn't always enough. There is help available for anyone less able to cope with stress, especially when it seems to be coming at them from all sides; we have to recognise the signs, though, and actively seek help; There is no shame whatever in feeling less and less able to cope with stress, whatever its source, but we need to recognise the signs and get help before it manifests itself in such a way or ways that we are likely to live to regret.

My failing to recognise the extent of the stress that living in a closet was making itself felt over a period of some 20 years, resulted in a nervous breakdown in my 30's. I had been too scared to ask for help,  had convinced myself I could cope... and could not have been more wrong. The help and support I received on a road to recovery that took me 4 to years of hard, mental slog to cover and start applying for jobs again... was a lifesaver.

Whether heterosexual or of an LGBT persuasion, we are, each and every one of us, only human and human nature, being as complex a life force as it is, needs a helping hand from time to time and mind-body-spirit needs must reach out and take it. Never easy... but what in life comes easy to any of us? We may think some people have an easy life,  but few of us are ever privy to what goes on behind closed doors...

THE ENEMY WITHIN

Love turned its back on me,
yet would not run away,
but left me nailed to a tree,
(couldn't even pray.)

Pain alone left me free
to fight another day;
Love, my sworn enemy,
nails in a god of clay

Better stay angry than grieve,
avid ties sure to rot,
scars worm on a sleeve,
to prove - what...?

Love, like war and peace,
down to each of us

Copyright R. N. Taber. 2005, 2021

FLOTSAM AND JETSAM

Love hadn't touched me
for many years;
I'd let myself drift freely
on a Sea of Tears

Chanced to find peace
(or did it find me?)
and sought to anchor us
in that same blue sea

Sea of Sadness, no more;
blue, only the sky;
soul once bruised and sore,
bright as a swallow's eye

Ashore at last, for homing in
on your heart's outline

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2021

[Note: Both poems were written in 2004 and first appeared in my collection, A Feeling for the Quickness of Time, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Another Open Letter to Readers

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Hi Everyone, from here in London UK,

Sorry, no poem today, but am working on one...

Several readers have kindly emailed to ask how I am, as I am getting on a bit now and having to deal with various health problems, although not Covid-19, so I count my blessings.

My inner self is fine most of the time, I am happy to say; the pandemic leaves me very dispirited from time to time, especially when my bad leg &/or prostate cancer are playing up at the same time. By way of creative therapy, writing up the blog and making contact with readers around the world is not only a welcome distraction from my own problems, but hugely comforting too. So, many thanks to you all again, just for being there and taking the trouble read my poems.

Some days, of course, are worse than others, but I decided a long time ago that I would take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er)side of life. Years go, I did not expect to be having to deal with growing old on my own. As it turned out, I live alone, but have some good friends who keep me on my toes; hopefully, the feeling is reciprocal.

None of us can tell the future, though (probably just as well) so we have little or no choice but to deal with the ups and downs of life as they (invariably) happen or let them toss us into a quagmire of self-pity and despair.

Oh, yes, I  am familiar with that quagmire, been stuck in it many times over the years, but not for a long time, so... fingers crossed. I get fed-up, of course, don't we all? After a nervous breakdown some 40+ years ago, though, I have done my best to give it a wide berth.  Never easy, but well worth the struggle, as anyone who has ever been there will tell you. None of us should ever hesitate to ask for help, either; help is on hand in family friends, professional counsellors... all can help, but none are mind readers and I suspect there will always be times in life when we need to swallow any misplaced pride and learn how to get a life again...

For many people, everyday life becomes harder to contend with once retired, especially if - for whatever reason - they are unable to enjoy retirement as they had hoped and planned. An elderly friend - long since passed away - once warned me about retirement. "When you retire, be sure to replace your job, especially if it is one that has given you much pleasure and satisfaction, with something that gives you much the same level of pleasure and satisfaction," adding wryly, "We all need a purpose in life. When you retire, it's a case of sink or swim." Having been retired for nearly 15 years now, I am often reminded of those words, hearing his voice speak them in my head whenever I feel myself in danger of sinking into the quagmire...

Easier said than done, of course, but what isn't in the struggle to make the best of circumstances we would have preferred to avoid...?

Oh, and my late friend also told me to be sure and practice what I preach, so I do my best. 😉

Take good care of yourselves, dear readers, play safe, keep well as we can but try to nurture a positive thinking mindset, whatever life throws at us,

Lotta digital hugs, many thanks for dropping by and join me again anytime,

Roger

Mind-Body-Spirit, Only a Heartbeat Away

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Now, when all is said and done, advice given and counselling taken on board, the course of action we choose to take has to be ours, no one else’s; nor should we blame anyone but ourselves if things go wrong.

Sometimes, though, things have to go wrong in order to come right.

As regular readers will know, 1969 saw me ‘emigrate’ to Australia, but it didn’t work out and I came home, much to everyone’s delight who had advised against going and could now smugly say “I told you so …”

What no one understood, though, was that I emigrated in sheer desperation to get away from those same people. I was a psychological mess, not least for being a closet gay man, but many other reasons too; e.g. having failed one of my A-levels, I was unable to proceed with the career of my choice and hadn't a clue what to do next.

I had no one to talk to in whom I could have any confidence they would really listen or understand. Oh, they would try, but … have you ever noticed that when you are needing to talk in-depth about yourself to anyone, most people respond, not in relation to you but to themselves; they proceed to tell you what they think they would do in your situation, given their history and various sets of circumstances not what they think you should do given yours. Invariably, it is all very well-meaning, but little if any help. In the end, we just have to trust our own instincts.

Now, my emigrating may well have been a huge mistake, but it had the saving grace of buying me time. My ship -The Southern Cross - sailed from Liverpool via Panama and took six weeks to reach Melbourne. For the first time in my life, I had time to think, listen to mind-body-spirit and learn to trust my instincts. I had made so many mistakes, and there never seemed to be time work out how best to rectify them ... until Oz.

Subsequently, I returned home home, a different person and (hopefully) a better one. I knew now what I wanted (a professional career in public libraries) despite a significant hearing problem (no effective hearing aids for perceptive deafness were available then) and coming out to the world as a non-stereotypical gay man. Both took time, but I had achieved the former by 1975; it would take about another ten years, following the death of my mother and a bad nervous breakdown to achieve the latter. They were good years and bad years; it took a good 10 years - and more mistakes - before I would start to feel not only a whole person, but comfortable with that person. By now, I had learned to make time rather then let it break me.

Sometimes, looking after number one has to be a priority before we can really let numbers two, three, four or more into our lives and stand any chance of our connecting with them or they with us. Sadly, for all modern technology, really connecting with each other is not always human nature’s greater forte. We all have a responsibility towards one another, but as a wise R E teacher once commented to the class at my old school some 60+ years ago, "We can't expect to be of much help to others if we can't, don't or won't even take good care of ourselves." Oh, but so true, never more so perhaps than  during the COVID-19 pandemic. 

“The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.” ― Albert Einstein

“He who thinks little errs much…” ― Leonardo da Vinci

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, ONLY A HEARTBEAT AWAY

World, in a hurry, 

no time to think things through,

making mistakes …

(Oh, and who’s blaming who?)

priorities blurring …

Need answers, can’t keep deferring

finding a solution

because Head says “Keep on going ...”

Heart, weary of trying

Folks, rushing by,

all needing things done yesterday

having to settle

for ‘maybe tomorrow’ if not too late

(as it often is …)

No one to blame, but so easier said

than done …

when the Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, weary of hoping

Time, hastening on,

waiting for no one, haunting us all

as we try to fit in

with yesterday-today-tomorrow’s

agenda for life, death

and whatever else we can succeed

instead of failing

while Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, weary of waiting

Instinct, kicking in

where head-heart (far) from certain

regarding the best

course of action, keyword confusion,

given contrary advice

by those we thought knew us better

(rude awakening)

where Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, "No surrendering

Human clock, ticking,

mind-body-spirit risen to the occasion,

taking chances

on what it perceives as the better option

for first person singular

if not plural of the species, taking action

(before it's too late)

where Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, the faster beating

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018

Dressing Table Wars

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I suspect that aspects of the human self are as often at war with each other as suing for peace it is a confusing, even distressing scenario of which mind, body and spirit not unsurprisingly or infrequently grow weary, sometimes all at once, and we sink into depression.

Sadly, there is still a stigma attached to any form of mental illness, not least because few people understand it unless they have been depressed through it themselves or close to someone who has. It was much the same when I experienced a severe nervous breakdown some 30+ years ago. Few people understood what I was going through, and it was only after a long, lonely battle over several years that I began to feel well again. I even managed to find and hold down a job although it would be a few more years yet before the sense of fighting a losing battle would leave me once and for all. Well, not quite once and for all, but I can honestly say that my quality of life and resistance to despair improved beyond measure as the years passed. I still take a m low dose (25mg) of antidepressant nightly and – as regular readers well know – writing has been more a creative therapy for me than an art form even as a child. (I will be 70 this year.)

Being depressed is nothing like being fed-up; it is a soul-destroying nightmare from which the depressed person can take a very long time to awaken, if ever.  An invisible illness, it is easily misunderstood. Sadly, one of the last people to recognize depression is the depressed person him/herself. Uncharacteristic mood swings, aggression, rudeness, bouts of crying for no obvious reason, over-reacting and getting things out of proportion…all these can be signs of depression, likely to culminate over a period of time in a firm of mental breakdown unless professional help and support is made available.

While the best help and support can be provided by family and friends, not everyone has family on hand while some friends feel so let down by a depressed person’s attitude towards them that they drift away; they SEE the same person, but have no idea of the emotional turmoil that person is going through and which, if left unchecked, may well permanently damage his or her whole personality.

To be fair, none of us are mind readers. Even so, the more sensitive and discerning family member or close friend will suspect something is wrong. Suggesting to someone they may be depressed will almost certainly meet with a hot denial in the first instance. Please don’t give up, but stick with it, no matter how tough it gets; and it will get tough, almost as much for the person who is trying to help as for the person who is mentally ill.

There are degrees of mental illness, of course. Whatever, there is no shame in it, especially in the kind of stressful, even dangerous world we live in with stress often coming at us from all sides to such an extent and at such a rate that even the strongest body, mind and spirit feels under siege.

Depression is not a battle that can be easily won, and certainly not alone. If you are depressed, don’t wait, as I did, for depression to get the better of you. Strike first. Ask for help or at least try and express something of how you feel to someone you sense will understand and help you to help yourself. Easily said than done, as I know only too well… 

DRESSING TABLE WARS 

Wall, shining like a mirror,

shadows dripping drops of light

like sweat on a battlefield

Words, pitting foe against foe;

a roaring in the head like sounds

of battle in a silent movie

Wall, a white board left blank

to any suggestions from the floor

on the subject of peace talks

Words, advancing like armies
on an invisible enemy, worn down
by stomach pains and tears

Wall, questioning the nature

of the beast, philosophy left to run

a lonely gamut of home truths

Words, starting to make sense

of sensibilities modernity so loves

to camouflage in Rat Race gear

Wall, a collage of human selves

reflecting vulnerability to life forces

and potential for common sense

Words, moving lips in a mirror,

rehearsing a plea for help in repairing

any cracks in mind-body-spirit 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Notes on the Dark Side of Imagination

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Regular readers will know that I suffer from regular bouts of depression although I usually manage to avoid plunging into The Abyss if only just...

When depression strikes, I am inclined to wallow in misery and self-pity until a natural optimism and love for life (in spite of its erratic ups and downs) brings me to my senses, and once again I feel free to embrace the world as I invariably see it from the shimmering summit of Mount Parnassus.

Inspiration comes from all aspects of nature, including human nature, fickle though these can be until (eventually) I start to make sense of  who I am; my social, sexual, cultural and spiritual identity...all the parts that comprise a person's whole. It is, after all, the whole that counts, with which all of us need to come to terms, each in our own way, and take pride.

Oh, and, yes, I find the task of hitting on an appropriate title to a poem as challenging an art form as the poem itself; yet another positive step in the survival business.

NOTES ON THE DARK SIDE OF IMAGINATION

Now among friends, now left alone,
wandering a gloomy, scary by-way,
thorns like vampires in fields of stone
under a jaundiced sky turning grey

No one in sight, man, woman or child;
gargoyles on Heaven’s outer walls
perpetuating horror, while as beguiled
by such arts for leaving me appalled

Tearing at cloth ears, misery and pain
for the end of a world still enduring
Man’s rape for the sake of Power’s gain,
now at Earth Mother’s final reckoning

How many poets, I dare wonder aloud,
have permitted demons to spawn here,
this fine company of gargoyles, allowed
but a grimace, neither a voice nor tear?

Oh for just one kiss of sun on the face,
or garden smells after downpours,
to empathize with a lark’s winged grace,
speak out against the world’s eyesores

Suddenly, the ghastly mirage is gone,
I am back on track, among friends
whose loyalty and love I shall lean upon
where it’s said the track (finally?) ends


Copyright R. N. Taber 2007


[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from an earlier version that appears in first editions of Accomplice to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Engaging with Mr Hyde

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Most if not all of us have a dark side, possibly never more memorably illustrated than by Robert Louis Stevenson in his famous novel The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

What do we see when we look in a mirror? Sometimes, reflecting on how we look exposes much of how we are feeling but cannot articulate at the time; an indefinable anxiety about giving much if anything away.

In my experience, we need to give more away, feel less inhibited about confiding worries, fears, even a sense of split personality that can only fuel both.

On the whole, we all do a good job of camouflage. But is that a good thing? I suspect people would be less likely to crack under the strain of whatever it was causes them to do terrible things if they had felt able to talk to someone who might have been able to help them reach a clearer, less awful perspective on friends, family, colleagues, and life in general.

Having experienced a severe nervous breakdown some 30+ years ago, I remain haunted by how much worse it so easily could have been if I hadn’t received the help and support I needed. This, I should add, was more by accident then design.

Looking back, I can see how feelings of distress fuelled by an emotionally damaged childhood and early manhood erupted as they did. I am only surprised this didn’t occur years earlier. Possibly, compensating very well (too well) for a significant hearing loss and having to conceal the fact that I am gay for many years (when gay relationships were a criminal offence) made me such an expert in the art of hiding my feelings that I could not even make them out myself. Certainly, I could not articulate on them and needed help in flushing them out before I could even begin to come to terms with how I really felt or who I really am.

Traumatic and distressing though my breakdown was, I was one of the lucky ones. 30+ years on, I still suffer bouts of depression from time to time, but these are nothing compared to what happened to me then. Tragically, mental health is still something of a taboo subject which is probably why most people’s conception of mental health issues continues to be naïve if not downright ignorant; more often than not, it is a distorted one. Only those of us who have experienced it and the relatively few people who have supported us on that ghastly roller-coaster ride, have any idea of the damage it does to the human psyche.

So if someone you know starts behaving strangely and out of character, please don’t give up on them. Try to help and support them. (Professional help and support is not always either forthcoming or constructive.) It isn’t always easy being a friend, but friendship means taking the rough with the smooth. Sadly, some people are only interested in the latter; they cannot or will not contend with the other.

This poem is a villanelle.

ENGAGING WITH MR HYDE

Find beasties in mirrors weeping

for those looking fear in the eye,

never truly awake or ever sleeping

Silent as dawn’s stealth creeping

over bedcovers where we lie,

find beasties in mirrors weeping

Werewolves in sheep’s clothing

(human nature knows us by)

never truly awake or ever sleeping

Consorting with gargoyles sweeping

up mistakes and lies we’ll deny,

find beasties in mirrors weeping

Through a lace curtain of empathy,

home truths from which we shy,

never truly awake or ever sleeping

Alter ego, a chameleon peeping

through a roaming glass eye;

find beasties in mirrors weeping,

never truly awake or ever sleeping

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010