family
Family can be our support system. Or they can be part of the problem. All about the complicated, loving, and difficult relationship with us and the ones who love us.
My Own Giant Beanstalk
Jack’s mother, or someone similar, scattered some magic beans and one landed in the pit of my stomach - in my sacral space. The seed grew and thrived and blossomed over time. It’s roots grew down out of my root chakra and into my legs, it’s tendrils eventually emerging from the soles of my feet and continuing downward, down, down, down. Not into the soil of the earth but into THAT time. I am fixed in that moment in time. Stuck. It’s trunk replaced my trunk, filling me completely. It’s spiny branches have replaced my own arms and it grew out of my finger tips, which now tremble often when they didn't before. It’s branches climbed for the skies and filled my neck, head and the entirety of my brain. The synapses that once fired with jokes, memes, fun, laughter, joy and often laughed at times that were inappropriate have been replaced with the vibrating branches of fear, worry, anxiety, dread, horror, nervousness and terror.
By Emma Louise4 years ago in Psyche
A Letter to My Dad
Dear Dad, It has been almost forty years since you stepped out of my life in the most cliché-ridden manner possible. Not just a bad heart that attacked you; not just on the day that you were to be released from hospital; not just when all the signs were good for you and your health. It was the day itself that stays with me.
By Kendall Defoe 4 years ago in Psyche
The Ego and The Paradox of Time
Do you know that the time dimension, as you know by the clock, is man-made? We should be all interested in time because we use time in mathematics and science. We measure time in seconds, minutes, hours, days and years. Also, we calculate distances in time, light years away and eons etc. Time is used for cooking, travelling, growing and achieving things. Everything we do has a time attached to it – even our bodies age with time. There is time to be born and time to die for all of us. Time consumes our thinking and our whole being. There is a saying, "Time and tide wait for no man". Our perception of time traps us in time from the moment we are born and from which there is no apparent escape. With time there is a past, present and future, and there is always a beginning and an end.
By Mal Mohanlal4 years ago in Psyche
Mom's Window. Top Story - June 2022.
As recently as October, 2021, Alzheimer’s and Dementia stepped up their game and began working hard to take our mother away from us. A lot of people know and love my mother as someone with an infectious smile and a laugh larger than life. Most would remember playing hide-and-seek at the big house in Fort Wayne, or playing “Red Light/Green Light” in the yard at my grandmother’s house in Augusta, or her singing, laughing, playing pranks, etc., but one thing is certain, they’d definitely remember mom having to get the first and last hug and then waving good-bye until she couldn’t see their car any more. Those closest to mom understood her insatiable love of art and natural light.
By Veronica Coldiron4 years ago in Psyche
Shocked, Shattered, and Unprotected
A hug. What does a hug mean—love, affection, camaraderie, friendship—joy, perhaps? Or sympathy, comfort, nurture? We don’t often hug people we don’t like or at least care about, do we? A hug expresses care, certainly, at its most simple.
By Catherine Kenwell4 years ago in Psyche
A Good Death
Ever since her divorce, Veronica immersed herself in spirituality, first studying meditation technique, then reading the many masters of recent times. One theme kept popping up: a good death. If one could overcome the illusion that one was separate from all else, Veronica read, then one would be able to accept death peacefully, even joyfully. She learned that death is merely the continuation of life, in a new form, of course, and was even beginning to see that true union is fully possible only in death.
By Denise Davis4 years ago in Psyche
Paul Harvey and My Father With the Detox Shakes
He put the drink aside years before, but his hands still shook as he worked the wood in front of him. My father, ever busying himself in the dust-filled, smoke-choked garage with his newest projects. Some he would find at flea markets, these fortresses of a former age. They would come through the garage door, huge wooden cabinets so old even my father had not been born before they were already dust-covered in an attic somewhere.
By Ira Robinson4 years ago in Psyche
