Words that sing

(A wordle cloud based on the top 100 words in this post)

I realise that I’ve been writing a lot of posts that in some way relate to the truth - to the struggle to see what is true rather than what we wish to be true, and to be honest with ourselves and with others. I thought it might be a good idea to explore what I feel about truth.

I am in the slightly odd position of being deeply committed to an end goal of personal and spiritual growth (tolerance, honesty, compassion, freedom from fear etc) that is similar in some ways to that which is praised by religions. But at the same time I find the supernaturalism of religious and new-age beliefs fundamentally alien, and their approach to key issues like truth and fear unhelpful at best. Which doesn’t leave me much in the way of reliable guidance for the personal growth that I am seeking. Or indeed any help with defining what exactly I aspire to.

But let me try anyway. One of the things I am seeking is a resilience in the face of the problems that life throws at me - not a permanent happiness, but an emotional buoyancy. A state of mind that deals with problems and obstacles with the minimum of pain and misery. (This ideal owes quite a bit to the non-supernatural elements of buddhism)

Part of that process is about overcoming fear, which is often both unnecessary and counterproductive, and replacing it with a confidence and acceptance. And another part of it is about truth - seeing things the way they are. Because I’m curious to know the truth, and because I feel that honesty, integrity and openness are all valuable characteristics of the person I aspire to be. And because if our beliefs lead us to make false predictions about the world, we’re in danger of being unnecessarily prepared for the problems that arise, or of dealing with them inappropriately.

I also value truthfulness as a great tool for identifying and overcoming fear. From my experience, it’s almost always fear that makes me reluctant to see or speak the truth, so working to overcome that reluctance, or at least defy it, can help me to overcome that fear.

For me the work of moving away from fear and towards truth is a vital part of my life at present.

When I feel I am tempted to lie, I try to ask myself, what am I afraid of? When I feel afraid, I ask myself, why am I afraid, and what is the worst that can happen? And I try to decide whether the fear is of something real, or something imaginary. If, as mostly happens, it’s imaginary, I try to do exactly that thing that I’m afraid of. I don’t always manage it - it’s amazing how easily the mind dreams up excuses why it’s not necessary on this occasion! But step by step I am working on my fears.

And similarly I am trying to eradicate the prejudices, biases and fears that are the biggest obstacles to seeing what is real. I keep trying to remember that, although I believe that every one of my beliefs is correct, is is, in practice, certain that I believe something that is not true. Which doesn’t help me to identify which one it is, but it’s a useful principle. (It would be great to be able to swill out my brain with some sort of epistemological plaque detector, which would stain the areas of false belief so that they could be removed with energetic brushing). But it’s a useful way to counter the pride of having to be right about everything all the time.

It’s also helpful to remember all the different ways in which we can be wrong about things, and how difficult it is to really get at the truth. I’ve recently watched several youtube clips of Derren Brown (e.g. this one) which demonstrate very neatly how easy we can be to fool, and how misleading our own experiences can be. (I recently tried dowsing with a pendulum, and it’s quite shocking how strongly it appears that an invisible external force is involved, even when you know intellectually that it’s nothing of the kind!) It seems that humans work in such a way that we arrive at beliefs easily and quickly, and change our minds reluctantly and slowly - I can’t help feeling the reverse would be more useful!

One of the most inspiring websites I know is The World Question Center, which includes a collection of short accounts from 165 people about issues on which they changed their minds. Some of the changes are really significant, others smaller. But what I find inspiring is the courage with which they have been prepared to put their beliefs to the test and say “I was wrong”. And in reading their accounts, I don’t think the less of them for being wrong - I think more of them for admitting it. Which encourages me to try to feel the same about the scary idea of being wrong.

One of the most important ways in which I’ve changed my mind over recent years is this: what people believe really does matter, because it affects their behaviour, and a “live and let live” relativistic attitude to the beliefs of others is dangerous. It also cuts us off from putting our own views to the test - indeed, as I argued in a previous post, I think one of the attractions of relativism is that we don’t have to put our own views on the line and accept that we might be wrong.

For me discussion is a crucial way of putting our beliefs to the test and learning more about ourselves and others. But for a discussion to be real, all parties have to be willing to discover that they’re wrong. And that is a rare attitude for people to have, particularly on issues that matter to them. Pride and fear all come into play and bias our view of the evidence despite our best efforts. Which, yes, brings me back to fear - indeed it seems hard to separate them!

Moving towards truth and away from fear is a daily challenge, and some days I feel I’ve made no progress at all. It’s a hard slog. But it seems to me that it’s a fascinating and important journey.

Though, I could be wrong, I’m afraid….

“Don’t you ever say never to me!”
She thinks to herself. The forbidden door
Opens to the defiant squeak of the key
And horror sweats cold from every pore

For a stench arises, cloying and rotten
From the heart of their marriage - evil denied
But once seen, too hideous to be forgotten.
Truth bleeds from the key and her soul is dyed.

Returning hoofbeats! She turns to flee
But is frozen like a fawn as the hunter returns,
And sees in her eyes what she cannot unsee.
On the brink of slaughter, she finally learns

That beyond the door of fear’s dark night
Lies the truth that gives the strength to fight.

This sonnet is based on the tale of Bluebeard. It is very much influenced by the way the story is told, and interpreted, by Clarissa Pinkola Estes in Women who run with the Wolves - in an early blogpost I included several extracts from her description that resonated with me. In the poem, as in the original story, the woman does manage to escape at the last moment, though in the poem I have suggested that she saves herself rather than awaiting rescue by her brothers.

The first line comes from one of my favourite films, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe - it’s a war-cry for women refusing to be constrained, which I couldn’t resist using here! The original tale of Bluebeard frequently suggests that the woman is wrong to be curious, and that the discovery is a punishment for her disobedience. Which is strange, as the alternative was to remain in blissful ignorance that she’d married a murderer… presumably up until the point when he got tired of her, when her innocence and obedience would be no protection whatsoever. So I wanted to make it clear that her motive for going through the door was much more to do with courage and defiance than nosiness!

The poem also reflects my (thankfully less bloody!) own experiences of being reluctant to confront the truth in a relationship, even though confronting that truth is the only way to protect yourself from being hurt.

Oh, and the rather creepy photo of a keyhole, was taken (in Greyfriars Kirkyard in Edinburgh) and uploaded onto flickr by davydubbit.

The kraken arises from an ocean of riven broken time.
Jaws gritty with the dust of things once precious.
Each sinuous movement violates reason and rhyme
A murky intelligence stares from its eyes, deeply vicious.

Its elemental fear makes us doubt our every intent.

Most terrible because it is so intensely silent…
More strange than any beast in any sea ever sailed…
A mere hint of its rising makes the heartbeat violent
As we feel the foundations of our being are assailed.

Even to think of it makes the universe feel bent.

For this beast devours our souls’ hard-won pearls
Spitting out the fragments of the truth we thought secure
Throws us silent and naked into a lonely world
Where the shreds of our peace must struggle to endure.

But one day we must stop being prey and learn to fight.

Set out to hunt the beast across the deep ocean floors -
Stare into its eyes to defy it, and there see its flaws and errors.
Rebuild for ourselves what was pulverised by its jaws,
And relax, knowing our peace stronger than its paralysing terrors,

Buoyant on dawn-blushed waves, at the end of the kraken night.

This is a revision of an earlier poem of mine, Kraken. I revisited it on a suggestion from readwritepoem to go back and rework an old poem. The original was a jigsaw poem, and in rewriting it I’ve removed many of the jigsaw words to give myself more freedom to say exactly what I want. I’ve made the meaning a shade more explicit too. I’ve also incorporated a final verse as I felt it needed a more powerful, positive ending. Oh, and I’ve introduced rhyme!

I think altogether that the revised version is stronger - what do you think?

(Photo - Deep Blue Sea - uploaded to Flickr by TheFortunate)

The beast arises from an ocean of riven time,
Jaws agleam with the dust of what was once precious.
Each sinuous movement a reversal of physical law
A murky intelligence in its eyes which nothing can clarify.
Its rising makes our solidest truths seem dim and volatile.

Most terrible because it is silent…
More strange than any fantasy…
In contemplating it the heart flutters
Feels the foundations of its peace tremble

Even to think of it makes the universe feels bent

For this beast of our fantasies devours our souls’ precious time.
Reverses all the clarity we feel we have gained.
Throws us silent and naked into a volatile universe
Where the bent and twisted fragments of our peace flutter sadly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was inspired by two prompts -

Firstly from poetswhoblog - to write a jigsaw poem featuring the following words: time, precious, reversal, clarify, volatile, silent, fantasy, flutter, peace, bent. Having used them all I felt I had more to write, so I ended up using each word twice, changing a few of them the second time.

Secondly, readwritepoem’s challenge to write a poem about something that doesn’t exist. It seems my imagination came up with something rather dark, so I’m glad it doesn’t exist! Though perhaps I should say, it doesn’t exist as a real creature…

The photo is Ocean Deep, originally uploaded to flickr by Julie Elisabeth.

Yesterday’s melancholy song:

I had learned to live in fear,
The voices in my head
overflowed the air:

“Without you I’ll never be.
“I’ll never be!”

Exterminating by backspace:

I key in and expunge
echoes of voices from afar
take a knife to blatant out right lies:

“You called it constant drama - you never knew.
“You never knew!”

The sound of another morning:

Into the dark recess of my mind,
the eager sun sneaks in bits of light
from my earnest reflections:

“The voices in my head were never really there.”
“Were never really there!”

I go on without my disguise:

Brightening parts my world,
and brings me home again
without the mask I hid behind:

“The me that I have always known.”
“Me!”

This is a patchwork poem, drawing on poems by:

Writerwoman at The shores of my dreams:
Gautami at Rooted
Lissa at Just Writing Words
Paisley at Just Paisley

I’ve done a little tweaking here and there, but they’re basically their words, not mine, so many thanks for permission to play with these great poems. You can find out what these poets have done with the same original material and learn more about patchwork poems at the Patchwork Poetry blog.

I also owe thanks to dakini at flickr for the lovely photo….

On a pyre of sandalwood and aloes,
My heart burnt with bitter tears
Perfumes and dreams dwindling in smoke
In the consummation of my deepest fears.

The fire exhausts itself at last
Unable to believe in burning again.
All the brilliance of our love
Turned to ash-caked tears and pain

Yet somehow one crystal tear
Strikes fire from the vanishing sun
And in a rainbow of sudden life
A fledgling life breathes, ember-spun.

New life arises, gold and scarlet
With strength hard won from the heart of pain
Amber and indigo feathers reborn
Wings remember how to fly again.

And I awaken to glorious day
A life where hopes outshine fears.
My heart knows a mystery old as life;
I was weeping phoenix tears.

This poem was inspired by the monday mural at poefusion. Do visit the site and have a look at the poems other people have written based on this picture.

Today I start my new job, and it will be challenging. Which is good - it’s what I wanted. But I know myself well enough to know that the biggest danger ahead is that I will have too high expectations of what I can do. So I will try to remember that:

1. There will be no time in this job when I will know everything I need to know. So I will have to ask.
2. There is no way that I will be able to absorb everything that people tell me first time round. So I will have to ask again. And again, if necessary.
3. There is no way that I will ever be able to speak Spanish like a native speaker. So I will have to be patient with my mistakes, extra cautious about possible misunderstandings. And I will try to recognise that people around me will value the effort I am making far more than an ability to speak and write perfectly.
4. I will forget things, and do things wrong. And the quickest way to deal with this is to be very upfront about it and get on with sorting out the problem. The longer I try to kid myself that things are OK, the longer it will take to sort out.
5. Some decisions will be difficult - I will not have enough information to make the choices I need to make, and often the two alternatives will be difficult. So I will try to remember that sometimes taking no decision, or deciding too late, is a worse alternative than making the wrong choice. Sometimes someone has to make a choice. And often that person will be me.
6. I cannot be more than I am. So I will just be myself and do the job as myself. And nobody, not even myself, has the right to expect more from me than that.

Suspended in rushing darkness,
Where movement is only a sound.
Alone in the packed compartment,
Far from the anchoring ground

A cargo of hopes and memories.
Strange worlds of scattered thought.
We speed alone together
To destinations unsought.

A limbo of time passing slowly.
A space where distraction is all.
Suspended between past and future
The present as blank as a wall

Obsessed by the past my mind fidgets
The ragged flotsam of old dreams.
Alone with my faded longings -
The tears, the smiles, the screams.

Yet all the time we rush forward
To a future still hidden in night.
Waiting for plan to become reality -
For darkness to give way to light.

 (Photo by anurag prashar at flickr)

Something strange happened in my singing lesson today. My teacher was trying to get me to do something that I just couldn’t seem to manage, no matter how hard I tried to do what she said. And I noticed she was getting really frustrated with me - not that she was nasty, just sounding frustrated.

I knew that, in the past, I’d have felt that her frustration was justified, and that I was to blame for not being able to do what she was asking. Maybe because I wasn’t trying hard enough, or going about it the wrong way - either way because I wasn’t doing the right thing.

But after all that I’ve been through in recent months, I took a very different approach. I dared to contemplate the possibility that it wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t do it. I reflected that I’m a quick learner, intelligent and motivated, an experienced singer, well-coordinated physically and genuinely trying to do my best. So if I couldn’t do something, perhaps it was because she wasn’t explaining it in the right way for me. I decided that it was inappropriate for her to get frustrated with me.

This led to a brief but intense confrontation, which revealed a fascinating misunderstanding. My teacher felt that I kept having ideas of my own in a way that resisted what she was teaching. So she felt frustrated that every lesson I seemed to be doing something different from the previous one. It seemed to her that I was ignoring what she was saying. Whereas from my side, I was working really hard to do exactly what she told me, and was confused that she seemed to be giving me different ideas to work on from week to week.

(Part of the problem is that singing is such a difficult thing to teach - singing teachers generally use all sorts of ideas and metaphors to try to get their students to internalise a particular physical sensation or activity - my teacher was aiming at the same sensation every week, but using different images to get me closer to it.)

We eventually worked out that the problem was that I was overreacting to her suggestions. I was trying so hard to do exactly what she asked that I was abandoning everything I’d learnt up to that point. And so she was finding me as difficult to guide as it would be to steer a car with a steering wheel so sensitive that the tiniest finger movement triggered a dramatic change of direction! The more I hit obstacles (I think the problem today was simple physical tension in my shoulders and neck!), the more I’d try to find ways to do what she asked, and the more it would appear to her that I was following my own ideas and completely ignoring what she was saying.

Once we reached this point, the hostility and frustration all vanished and it suddenly made sense. Almost two years of putting up with occasional moments of frustration (her) and confusion (me) were resolved in ten minutes of tense but honest confrontation.

What stopped us resolving this before? I have to admit that it was my tendency to blame myself, rather than consider that others might be at fault.

I’m not quite sure where this comes from. To some extent it’s a conflict-avoidance measure. I don’t have much experience of having productive personal confrontations - ones that resolve issues rather than making them worse (generally because I use confrontation as the very last resort!). But I’m not afraid of conflict in situations that don’t relate to blame (e.g. political or philosophical debates). I suppose there’s also an element of “if I criticise them, they won’t like me” It feels like a mental habit - once I realise I’m doing it, it’s quite easy to stop myself - the trick is to notice something so ingrained!

I’m also not quite sure how I’ve survived up to this point in my life without undergoing terminal self-esteem failure. I’ve had several bad moments, but up until the break-up last autumn, it was never really a problem. I suppose it’s a combination of being good at doing lots of things and having had the luck to avoid encountering a lot of people who were unfairly critical. (Several times today I’ve been surprised to find myself feeling an utterly genuine gratitude to my ex - he said so many things about me that were glaringly wrong that he taught me to recognise it and say so!)

It’s fascinating to me just how much difference it makes when I dare to challenge the idea that I’m to blame for any problem I encounter! For one thing, it means I have to work a lot less hard to maintain my self-esteem - and I’m much less vulnerable to criticism from others. But it also gives me a much more balanced view of a situation, and thus a much greater ability to take appropriate action. And I think I’m going to learn a lot more this way, too.

The willow tree that bends to the wind may have good reason to be proud of her flexibility, but she probably doesn’t learn as much about the wind as she would if she stood up for herself a little more!

A strange thing happened the other day. A very close friend, who knew that I was planning some blog posts on masks, sent me a poem, which she’d sent me years ago and which had meant a lot to us at the time. And she suggested that it would be worth sharing on the blog. Here’s the link - Please hear what I’m not saying.But the poem didn’t have any resonance for me any more. A few years ago I’d not have said anything to her, but thanked her without telling her what I thought, because I don’t like criticising things that mean a lot to other people. But I’ve made some progress in my own removal of masks, so I told her honestly that the poem didn’t mean much to me any more.

I quoted this passage:

But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope, and I know it.
That is, if it’s followed by acceptance, if it’s followed by love.
It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It’s the only thing that will assure me
of what I can’t assure myself, that I’m really worth something

And I said:

“In a way, what has happened to me has been the very opposite - I opened myself to a glance that I thought was knowing and received neither acceptance nor love. And although it hurt me terribly, at the same time it has set me free in a way I never dreamed possible. Because it forced me to assure myself of what I’m worth, to be my own salvation, and my own strength. It’s quite an amazing feeling.”

Far from being bothered by the fact that I didn’t like the poem she’d sent, my friend replied:

“To tell you the truth, it had been ages since I’d last read it too… In fact, I didn’t even read it again before sending it to you. So your comments on the passage you selected rang far truer to me than what was said in the poem. You are perfectly right: no point us waiting around for someone else to give us an approving glance. In fact, that is often enough the root of many of our problems. We have to convince ourselves of our own worth and certainly NOT be dependent on anyone else’s approval - or it becomes hell!”

It struck me that this was a rather powerful illustration that it is possible to remove masks, and that if we have courage to be open to what life brings, we will learn what we need to learn, without hurting ourselves and others through unfortunate short-cuts, or being dependent on the approval of others.

And each day seems to bring me more examples of how this can be a beneficial process for me and those around me.

I’ve written about the dangers of trying to take a shortcuts to masklessness. But in some ways I suppose what happened to me was in effect a short cut. Several of my worst interpersonal fears came true at once, but I survived, and suddenly those fears no longer have any power to trouble me.  It’s not a journey that I’d wish on anyone, but it has helped me immeasurably.

I’m not all the way there yet, and there are still many fears and masks that I haven’t yet dealt with. But looking back I can see just how far I’ve come, and how much easier and more interesting life becomes!

Unfortunately that poem still speaks for the experience of so many people. And despite his claims I’m sadly fairly sure that my ex is still one of them.

I hope that he, and they, find a sustainable and authentic way to take off their masks and heal their fears.