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

Leftovers OR Food for Thought

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

Most critics agree that the poetry of Robert Browning is influenced by the devout Christian views of his mother and wife. I often wonder, though, if he ever regretted penning the lines, 'God’s in His Heaven/ All’s right with the world.'For me, they convey naive if not misleading approach to life and God, but in the context of Pippa Passes (in which play-poem they appear) a wry irony is also present. 

Now and then devout Christian and other religious fundamentalist readers get in touch to berate me for attacking their religion. I never attack any religion. What I attack is a tunnel-minded if not naïve view of life and God, invariably based on either misinterpreting passages in various Holy Books or taking them out of context (which amounts to much the same thing) and using them to justify shutting out just about everything and everyone else.

Religion is meant to be about love and peace. In reality, there is too much divisiveness,not to mention  one-upmanship between the world religions and within themselves, ensuring that world
 peace will always be up against it.  Let’s face it. The absence of a world war doesn’t mean we are at peace. Take Iraq, Afghanistan, the Middle East…and local conflicts worldwide. And that’s just the fighting. Whatever happened to peace of mind?

I often  refer, on the blogs and elsewhere, to those people I have met in the course of my life whose humanity is every bit as important as their religion. Sadly, it has been my experience that such people are a rare if not a dying breed, which is why I rejected religion and turned to nature even as a child. As I grew older, I saw no reason to change my mind. Meanwhile, nature feeds my mind and imagination; it also gives me a sense of spirituality and peace I never found in religion. Nor does it have anything to do with my sexuality, but simply the kind of person I am.  Besides, I hate tunnels. A teacher at my old school once described history as "a tunnel through which we travel towards the light we call learning." Maybe, although I suspect there are more takes on what ‘learning’ comprises than fish in the sea. Apply the same metaphor to religion and the light would be what some call Faith, God, Heaven or whatever. Oh, but how many takes on that…?

I dare say we all experience more than our fair share of tunnels, yet Life is an open road. Yes, even as we struggle to head off the  COVID-19 pandemic. Religion, too, is an open road for those to whom it means so much, as it did to a very dear mentor of mine, the same who once told me that we all need to at least try to keep an open mind and open heart or we are betraying our common humanity; by default, any religion that, in practise, denies this may well be said to be betraying its very origins.

A university tutor of mine once paraphrased the late American humorist, Evan Esar, with the comment "All things in life may well come to those who wait, but they are mostly leftovers from those for whom it wouldn't."

LEFTOVERS

“Come with us, we leftover ghosts

of all seasons past and enjoy the feast

that lasts forever, no fear of hearing

cries of hungry men and women again

or whimpering skeletons of children 

promised mortality is humanity's road 

to Heaven, discovering differently

"Come with us, we leftover ghosts

of seasons past, "and toast the peace

that lasts forever, never fear to hear

the groans of warring men and women

or whimpering children left to pray,

assured the price for war is paid in pain,

all things under the sun God-given ..."

"Come with us, we leftover ghosts

of seasons past, "and let’s play the jest

that lasts forever on any ignoring 

the groans of brave men and women

trying to save the planet’s children,

keep its trees and flowers fairest colours,

feed refugees, let asylum seekers in ..."

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2009

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in 'Tracking the Torchbearer by R N Taber, Assembly Books, 2012; the original quote by Esar is "All  things come to him who waits, but they are mostly leftovers from those who didn't wait."

Harvesting Imagination

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

Today’s poem is especially for ‘Hanna’ who asked if I have another poem about dementia as she looks after her brother who is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s; they both liked Misty Memories that I posted recently.

About 750,000 people here in the UK have dementia, and this number is expected to double in the next thirty years. I have seen the unbearably sad consequences for both sufferers and their carers. The British Government says it is committed to improving the care and experience of people with dementia and their carers by transforming dementia services to achieve better awareness, early diagnosis and high quality treatment at every stage and in every setting, with a greater focus on local delivery of quality outcomes and local accountability for achieving them. Let us hope so.

Some young people may say it does not affect them, but I know of at least two school children helping to look after a parent who has Alzheimer’s. Besides, we all have to grow old, and who knows…?

I once knew someone with Alzheimer’s who had been an English teacher and always loved poetry. Now and then in the later stages of the disease, she would come out with a very apt line or even a whole verse from a poem she’d once been able to recite by heart. So great an impression had some poems and events made on her that even the darker mists of memory failed to engulf them completely.

This poem is a villanelle, was inspired by people like my late friend and also the author Sir Terry Pratchett; indeed, all families/carers, some whom I have known personally, that have experienced or are experiencing the truly heartbreaking task of watching their loved ones' mental faculties slowly winding down. 

HARVESTING IMAGINATION

Wheels of the mind winding down;
though time play fast and loose with us,
we’ll reap a harvest of imagination

A smile but lost its way in a frown
seeks sanctuary in Cinderella memories,
wheels of the mind winding down

Though dignity wear a faded gown
as it stumbles through a Hall of Mirrors,
we’ll reap a harvest of imagination

A heart that wears love’s crown
keeps beauty in the folds of its favours,
wheels of the mind winding down

Love’s spirit unbowed, unbeaten,
turning the pages of life’s kinder stories,
we’ll reap a harvest of imagination

Among spoils of battles lost and won,
pathways to peace for all benign ghosts;
wheels of the mind winding down,
we’ll reap a harvest of imagination


Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: This poem first appeared in Ygdrasil, an online poetry journal, June 2010, and subsequently in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2010]