Mind-Body-Spirit, Work in Progress OR Where the (Missing) Keyword is Support

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

A reader asks if the novels on my 'Fiction in the Subject Field' blog are gay-interest fiction. Most are, and there are only a few anyway, but Mamelon, for example is a fantasy novel:

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

Meanwhile...

One of my childhood friends had always wanted to become  an engineer.  Both her parents, though, and older brothers were teachers and it was assumed she would follow the family tradition and any idea of a female engineer was a considered passing fancy, an absurd one at that.

The family moved away and years later we met by chance, and she related over several pints of Guinness how she had been persuaded to enter the teaching profession, after finally giving way to 'emotional blackmail' on the part of her family. After a few years of teaching, she realised "...it just wasn't me. I neither enjoyed nor hated it, and I think I was fairly good, but I knew I would be a far better engineer." So she gave up teaching for engineering, always more than capable of turning any sexism on its head. She and her scientist husband, had three lovely children, and the rest is history...  We lost touch, but I would get news of her from time to time. Apparently, the parents never quite forgave her for breaking with family tradition, but came to terms with it in time; such is the power of love over most of its nemeses.

We all need family and friends to give us the time and space to be ourselves, free of any pressure, however well-meaning, to follow whatever path in life they may well believe is right for us (or for them?) but the chances are self-awareness tells a different story.

Being true to ourselves, and giving self-awareness credit where credit is due, may not always be easy, but necessary if we seek peace of mind. Not all 'devil's are malicious, although it has to be said that most if not all can be very persuasive. I was very close to my mother and loved her dearly, but she did her best to dissuade me from going to university as a mature student (I was 25) because I had not done well at school and she thought I was overreaching myself. Even so, I went ahead and managed a BA Hons, class 2/1 in English & American Literature at the University of Kent in Canterbury which consequently enabled me to do a postgraduate course in librarianship and be the librarian I'd always wanted to be; it also gave me the confidence to come out to the world as a gay man, but that's another story altogether...

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, WORK IN PROGRESS or WHERE THE (MISSING) KEYWOD IS SUPPORT

Falling part at the seams,
trying to put myself back together
but only pipe dreams
to work with, though not the best
of working materials,
especially when the only tools
to hand are high hopes, vulnerable
at the best of times

Getting nowhere fast, need
to look at alternatives to a chorus
of "I'm doing fine, thanks,"
to anyone who cares enough to ask;
surely, we owe it to ourselves
and each other to get real, allow
give selfie genes a fighting chance
to fulfil their potential

If the devil takes the hindmost,
don't let that devil be me, in growing
more bitter every day,
blaming the world's falling apart
on its creating a blueprint
for an humanity unfit for purpose,
shaped by fake news, devils in details
and social media trolls

Let common sense, get the better
of faux stereotypes, common principles
and voices for Human Rights
truly make themselves felt, endorsing
a diverse human nature,
while shaming any native prejudice
rushing to judgement for the culprit it is
without fear or favour?

It was never in the lap of any gods
that humankind has proven itself better
by far than its worst,
for it's in human nature to resist
the push and shove
of its devils by standing up for itself
and all it believes in, not least a freedom
of choice to be or not to be

Last heard of picking up the pieces
of you-me-us found on any urban street
or country lane, cast aside
for fear of causing offence, upsetting
nearest and dearest,
needing to be put together,
prevent our humanity going into free fall,
and taking Earth Mother with us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Friends

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

Today’s poem - another villanelle - was first written in 2002 and published in an anthology the following year before I included it in my collection.

Why do I make revisions at all?  During the process of preparing my collection for publication to Google Play in e-format, I find myself dissatisfied with some poems for reasons not always obvious, even to me; most, it has to do with how a poems ‘flows’ – or doesn’t, as the case may be.

Given that I’ve never really got along with most members of either my immediate or extended family, good friends have always been especially important to me. (Yes, even those of the ‘fair weather’ variety.) As I grow old (71 now and live alone) I am, oh, so thankful to and for good friends. and value our friendship even more.  

FRIENDS

Come some dark, lonely night

or saddest sunny day,

find friends, making it all right

At one with moon and starlight

kept at bay,

come some dark, lonely, night

Wherever a so-weepy half-light

gone charcoal grey,

find friends, making it all right

Find home fires burning bright

(shaping our clay)

come some dark, lonely night

Losing out (again) taking fright

of facing another day;

find friends, making it all right

Oh, but no kinder end or respite

from worldly rites of way;
come some darkest, longest night,

find friends, making it all right

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Among Friends, Music to the Ears' in an anthology, Where the Words take You, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2003 and subsequently in The Third Eye (2004) by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Sword and Shield, a Fight to the Better End

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

[Update (Oct 18 2016): It is more than two years now since my fall that resulted in a badly fractured ankle. The warned me tt the hospital that, given my age, I might never walk again, but I was having none of that, kept religiously to a daily schedule of physiotherapy and can now walk quite well with the aid of a walking stick. Yes, walking is sometimes painful still, but it is a great feeling to be out and about. The prostate cancer, too, remains under control with hormone therapy. So...no worries that I cannot overcome by reflecting on my late mother's words, 'If you worry, you'll die and if you don't worry you'll still die one day so...why worry?' I guess we just have to keep a sense of proportion.]

Since my fall, five weeks ago, I have had to exercise a degree of patience I did not know I possessed. I am always out and about, but have been housebound as the front steps are too many and steep for me to negotiate with crutches. Unable to put any weight on my left foot, a Zimmer frame gives me greater mobility around my flat. It has taken until last week for a CT scan to reveal a fracture in the heel so now I have a cast and must continue hopping around on the Zimmer for at least another five weeks. The heel may mend or it may not. I must wait and see…

I live alone, but friends and my lovely neighbours in the flat below have been a godsend, helping with shopping and everyday tasks around the flat that I cannot do myself. Their support means everything. Even so, there have been moments when I have felt very low; it was at just such a time that I had a spirited debate with Pain and wrote the poem, a kenning.

SWORD AND SHIELD,  A FIGHT TO THE BETTER END

True, I am no friend

but do not mean you harm,

will arrive uninvited

(and most unwelcome)

yet do my best

to make my stay as bearable

as possible,

coaxing mind, body and spirit

to comfort, find peace

I may bring clouds

and wintry days, but always

call on spring flowers

and scents of halcyon days

to brighten dark corners

where you may well cower

from everyday hardship,

and a growing sense of bleaker

times yet to come

True, I am no friend,

but I have the power to make

stronger person of you

if you will only rise above

the worst and make

the best of our time together,

let mind, body and spirit

make peace with even a wretch

the likes of me

As Pain its makeshift sword wields,
so peace and love, lasting shields

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Back in Business OR Imagination, Lifesaver

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

When I am struggling with depression, it can often feel like I am in a gloomy room with no windows, just lots of doors, and every door I try is locked. In desperation, I yell for help, but no one comes. Hope is nowhere to be found. I stare at my hands as if expecting to find help there. The lifelines on each palm leap out at me, and do a little dance. My fingers make a grab for them, anxious to return them where they belong. Suddenly, I am left holding a key and know instinctively that it will turn in the lock of the next door I try.

Oh, the lock may well be stiff, and the key take some turning, but I persevere in the sure knowledge that beyond the damn door there has to be something better than being stuck alone and scared in a darkened room; a life, for example.

Ah, the wonder of imagination, not unlike a lotus flower surviving the murkiest depth as nature intended although I guess any old metaphor or synonym for survival will do so long as the inner eye can focus on it, and stay focused.  Yes, it may take a while, but for me at any rate, it’s how I (eventually) find myself back in business. 

You don't have to be a writer or even into the arts at all; gardening, painting and decorating, any form of creative therapy is likely to get the better of depression. Don't expect quick fix, but persevere and give yourself a fighting chance to get back on form... and if you know anyone suffering with depression, please give them a helping hand and (even more importantly) a helping ear.

As for inspiration, there is plenty out there and just finding the motivation to look for it is an important first step towards a better, kinder life. Picking up a book is as good a start as any as you'll find all life between the pages or just go to a window and look out; the chances are you'll start to find that motivation already creeping up on you. I say 'creep' because it invariably takes time to mend what's broken, but a start is a start is a start... and there's no time like the present for getting on with the business of living hopefully...

BACK IN BUSINESS or IMAGINATION, LIFESAVER

Sometimes when I’m feeling low

I’ll enter paintings on walls,

engage with crowds at market fairs,

let history course my veins,

giving selfhood a new dimension

and fresh direction, letting

a lazy inner eye know we’re back

in business

Or I might stroll along rugged cliffs,

communing with waves below,

pause to chat with a friendly peasant

whose lot more harsh

than I will ever know, text books

do justice or any sympathy

with poverty even begin to bring

it home...

An old farm house might invite me

to join its ghosts in a hearty meal,

the inimitable smell of home baking

lingering long after we’re eaten,

reviving my other senses, replacing

lethargy with motivation

enough to find satisfaction in putting

imagination to work

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

[Note: The alternative title has been added since the poem first appeared in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

The Confidante

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

I should like to say a big thank you to those readers who email me now and then to ask how I am coping with my prostate cancer. Generally speaking, I feel fine although I get very tired some days, not that winter is a particularly inspiring month anyway.

Now, being philosophical about my prostate cancer is one thing, but I have to confess to moments of panic and low spiritedness. That’s when I turn to spending time with friends…

Looking back on my life (very selectively) I can recover peace of mind whenever I want. Writing helps. Oh, there are plenty of bad memories too, but that’s where the art of careful selection comes in. I guess it’s the same for everyone. Difficult times can make us vulnerable, edgy, and even scared. So what better course of action than to create another good memory to add to those we already have? Hey, presto! Suddenly, it is easier to stay calm, reach a more positive perspective on life, reap the finer rewards only peace of mind can bring.

It may not last long, peace of mind, but there is always recourse to the same archive of happy memories to restore it again and again for as long as it takes. Yes, probably a lifetime. Oh, and we should never forget that life is not about pleasing other people all the time, trying to be being a good friend and confidante; we need to make time for ourselves too.

We should all remember, too, that there is no shame in asking for support, physical and/or mental. Sadly some of us, especially men, seem to feel that it is an expression of weakness; on the contrary, realising that we cannot cope on our own and seeking help, even it its just means confiding our fears in someone, is an expression of inner strength, not to mention common sense. As well as or in the absence of anyone close, there are also support networks available where professional counselling can help; no need even to ask, just go on the the Internet. (Help - and computers - often available at your local public library.)

This poem is a kenning.

THE CONFIDANTE

I wait

in the wings, ever willing,

never failing to relieve

a fellow player stumbling

into everyday dramas,

comedies, darker scenarios

and Mummers' Plays

reaching out to an audience

up for empathy

I help clarify

those arguments between

mind and spirit

ever turning over choices

of words, trying

to keep to a script of sorts

reworked more times

than memory dares mull over

its mistakes

I lead

from the heart where heads

make ever-increasing

circles, a fragile conscience

debating intention,

direction, and motivation

without coming to a conclusion

most likely to earn a standing

ovation

Rely on me, a friend of the kind

arguing for Peace of Mind

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Stoic Spirit, Vulnerable Heart

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

It is so true what they say about discovering who your real friends are when the going gets tough. Since I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in February 2011, several people I thought were good friends have rarely if at all even been in touch by phone or email. I am not upset if a little hurt, but mostly a feel a sense of déjà vu, having been here before. Even so, I am fortunate enough to have friends who are very supportive and more than compensate for those that choose to look the other way.

Of course, other people have their own lives to lead, may well have problems of their own they have no wish to share or are simply too busy to put friends first. But real friendship deserves better, surely? Otherwise, it is an illusion. Sadly, too many people see friendship as a one-way street; they take what they can get from it, and give precious little if anything back.

True, we don’t give to receive, but when we put ourselves out for people, show a genuine interest in their lives and try to give support whenever they ask for it, don’t we deserve better than a metaphorical slap in the face?

Few of us set out to deliberately hurt others. It’s just a sad fact of human nature that some people are so blinkered to any if not all home truths.  It can take many years before we call it a day with he or she who has played a significant part in our lives only to let us down time and again. It is never an easy decision, and one many of us are just as likely to retract should he or she ever need us again.

This poem is a kenning.

STOIC SPIRIT, VULNERABLE HEART

I run the gauntlet

of love, life, fun and tears,

trying to make the best

of things rather than complain

about the worst years,

struggling to rise above

the pain human beings

inflict upon each other time

and again

I turn to nature

for comfort and brief respite

from a daily torture

humanity asks me to endure

with all the dignity

and stoicism of someone

always expected to put

other people’s needs before

their own

I lie awake at night

wondering who or what

is wrong or right

amongst all that’s been said

and done in the course

of whatever merry chase

mischievous Apollo

and outcast Cassiopeia care

to lead us on

I am that sense of loss and hurt,

trailing where friendships abort

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

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

Help! Anyone There? OR Silence, No Ally in Adversity

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

Unemployment takes a heavy toll on all of us; neither does it discriminate, but can strike anyone at any time, no matter our age, ethnicity, creed, sex or sexuality it can make even the most resilient person feel depressed. Depression, in turn, invariably makes us feel alone and misunderstood. No one seems to appreciate the gamut of anger, frustration, guilt, and despair that we run what can seem like every minute of every day. People tell us to cheer up, change the record or whatever. We try, but we can’t. They tell us that tomorrow will be a better day, but it isn’t. Nothing seems to change except for the worse. More and more, we feel alone in the middle of nowhere.

Yes, I have been unemployed in my time, but am now retired so no longer living under that particular Sword of Damocles.

For anyone who (like me) suffers from depression anyway, being unemployed makes the fight against it so much worse.  That is why I write; not to prove anything, to myself or to anyone else, but the very act of invoking imagination to put pen to paper helps keep me on an even keel. (Well, most of the time.)

If anyone is interested in my fiction, they can see what I have come up with on my fiction blog:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/

Any form of creativity beats antidepressants every time, although I confess I still take one daily; art, music, gardening, sport...each to his or her own. Anything has to beat being glued to the TV for more hours a day than can be healthy even if the temptation to do just that can be overwhelming at times.

Meanwhile...

An earlier version of this poem has already appeared on the blogs and is repeated today especially for ‘Axel’, ‘Jonas’, ‘Marc’, ‘Alice’ and ‘Hanna’ who have been in touch fairly recently to express their dismay at being unable to find a job appropriate to their needs and qualifications in their respective countries.

As far as any qualifications are concerned, I would suggest putting them on a back burner and taking whatever you can if only to bring some money in and gain valuable work experience; it doesn’t matter if the work is unrelated to what you want to do eventually as it will demonstrate to employers that you not only take the work ethic seriously but are adaptable, have initiative, and can keep working hours.

Now, we live in times of fiscal uncertainty world-wide. Government cut-backs invariably mean many people are losing their jobs. I consider myself fortunate to be retired, but there was a time I was unemployed in my mid-30s and wondered if I would ever find a way back into mainstream life.

Today’s poem was written in 1997 and first appeared in Visions of the Mind, Spotlight Poets (Forward Press) 1998 under the title Depressed of Erewhon and subsequently in my first major collection; it relates to a period in the early 1980s when I had a serious nervous breakdown and was unemployed for nearly three years. It was a bad time. Yet, I got through it. It was tough. and took a lot of will-power, but somehow I managed it with the support of some good friends; there is no shame in asking for help, but when you are depressed and have low self-esteem, it can take a while (and good friends) to make you realise that.

The reason I wrote the poem was because I had been talking to someone who had been unemployed for a long time, and could see no light at the end of the tunnel. Our conversation took me back to a BAD place. [I am delighted to say that he, too, came through it and has not only been employed for a good ten years now but also saved his marriage of 35+ years.] The poem, though, is about depression, not unemployment. Yes, being in the rat race can make any of us depressed while being out of it can be so much worse. We all need to put safeguards in place, and that includes having someone in whom we can confide even our worst emotions' for me, the latter once included wanting to die.

Rising above depression is an uphill battle, but we can win it if we can only keep a hold on the will to try and the confidence, however fragile, that we will get through it and things really will get better. It is so important to talk to those close to us, let them know the depth of our feelings so they can try and understand and, more importantly, support and encourage us. No one is a mind reader. If we keep a ‘brave face’ on things and bottle it all up, how are they supposed to know how much support we really need? Are they supposed to just put up with our mood swings and not protest? Depression can so easily bring those around us down too, not just ourselves. They need to know we need them in our lives every bit as much as we need to know they need us in theirs.

There’s nothing brave about pretending everything is okay when we're falling apart; it’s just plain stupid. So rally the troops, yeah? And make damn sure you win the war.

Did I say it was easy?

HELP, ANYONE THERE? or SILENCE, NO  ALLY IN ADVERSITY

Needing to talk to someone

(unplugged the phone)

Needing someone to share

(won’t answer the door)

Can get through the days,

but no way out of this maze

of turnings, yearnings,

candle burnings to a devil

that drags me out of bed

and plays Pied Piper in my head

until I join the rat-race

Needing time and space

(none at the office)

Needing a hand, an ear…

(so look, but where?)

Can’t go on like this,

a credit to zombies;

getting by on auto-pilot

even when my partner

turns the light out;

dreams, nightmares, day and night

all rolling into one

Needing badly) to get real

(so take another pill?)

Come on,  try, try, try…

(just wanna die)

Please, Help me, somebody!

Copyright R. N. Taber 1998; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appeared under the title Depressed of Erewhon  in Love and Human Remains, Assembly Books, 2000 by R. N. (Erewhon, of course, is an anagram of nowhere.) rev. title 2/2018]