Here’s a quote from my poem, ‘Begin’
Have you ever wondered why we act as we do? Do you ever think about what makes us tick on a deeper level? Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud both shared many interesting theories, some of which are a little ‘out there.‘ I like to take what makes the most sense for me and leave the rest.
“Government is like a baby. An alimentary canal with a big appetite at one end and no sense of responsibility at the other.” This is a quote by Ronald Reagan. I can think of other words to use in place of ‘government.’ The id is much like this ‘baby,’ all self-important, wanting what it wants without thought for another. The id wants to fulfill our cravings. It has no rules or boundaries, no judgment, no common sense. It just wants satisfaction, period. Freud refers to the id as, “das Es,” or, ‘it.’ The word id has New Latin roots. Common definitions includes our basic needs and desires.
The superego is our conscience. We learn from those who came before us about cultural boundaries and laws and societal norms. We strive to abide by the rules. Our conscience learns traits from parents, family, teachers, friends, and others. Sometimes I feel like I was born with a conscience already built in. The superego is a perfectionist and an inner critic. Guilt is its mantra. Freud calls the superego, “das Uber-Ich,” which translates to ‘I over or ‘I above.’ Superego has New Latin roots. Common definitions include what is right and wrong.
The ego’s job is to keep the id and the superego in check. It is the great balancing act between the world we live in, the id (trying to meet our wants), and the superego (trying to be socially conscious). The ego tries to satisfy all of these by navigating through the challenging maze of life, desires, and the great good. According to Freud, the ego means, “das Ich,” or ‘I.’ The word ego has Latin roots. Common current definitions include pride or self-esteem.
The ego’s work is not easy and teeters often, tipping into less-than desirable realms and consequences. The ego certainly is a great mediator. As such, it sometimes loses its way, wandering often into id territory or into the land of the superego, or weaving back and forth through both consecutively, like a snake.
Not all people have the same equalizing abilities, either. We all come into this world with an agenda. Nature and nurture influence our life plan in a powerful way. Some of us tend to meander toward id country more than we should. Self-satisfaction is a tempting morsel and is hard to resist.
Some of us are drawn into the green fields of the superego and can become consumed by denying our own desires and needs. We might give in to judgment and criticism of ourselves and others. The superego is no better or worse than the id. The ego’s difficult task is to walk the tightrope across the canyon in blustery winds.
Here’s a quick poem I wrote about this delicate and difficult balancing act:
Superego is entrenched in my DNA
Id only wants to come out and play
Ego is the one who saves the day
I’d like to hear what you think. Thanks for reading.
What pleasure do women get from wearing extremely high heels and platforms? Do women strap them onto their feet because they really enjoy the feeling and look of becoming instantly taller? Do they foresee inevitable attention that turns their way from men nearby?
This whimsical poem, ‘Women’s Shoes,’ came to me after noticing the changes in dressy shoes for women. They become steeper and more stilty as each fashion season rolls over to a new one. Why is this happening?
Some women swear their high heels are comfortable. Really? In what world? If that’s true, why don’t I see more women wearing them around the neighborhood in the morning or evening when taking Fido for a walk?
Why don’t women jog in platforms on the gym treadmill or playing golf in spiked spike heels? I’ve never seen anyone wear platform beach sandals. Has anyone ever seen high-heeled hiking boots? Have you ever seen a woman sporting stilettos for weekly grocery shopping? How about in jobs where they must stand or walk all day?
I don’t believe for a second those high heels and platforms are comfortable. When I see a woman walking in them, her body contorts out of natural balance. She is forced to place most of her weight on the balls of her feet. What’s the point of it?
At a women’s clothing store where I worked, my boss, in her early twenties, could only walk barefoot on her toes. Her tendons shrunk and her foot would not sit flat on the floor.
Did I miss something growing up? My mom wore heels, two or three inches high at the most. She was 5’10” which was very tall for her generation. During my own high school years, platforms came into style. They were high, but not an uncomfortable torquing of the foot muscles high. My ankles twisted only a few times while wearing them.
Out on my own, I got into more earthy sandals, wearing them in all seasons. I liked a solid foundation but ruined them while hiking a trail in a few miles to end up at a mosquito-infested mountain lake. Why I wore them that day is beyond reason. I knew better and had sneakers tied to my 25-pound backpack.
Years later I went for a job interview and donned a pair of really cute open-toed wedges. They looked great beneath my mid-calf lavender and white flowered dress. The wedge was beige and looked like twine. White canvas wrapped around the top of the foot. They laced up the front just like high-tops, eyelets and all. They were flirty and went with almost anything.
By the end of the hour-long interview I had to limp back to my car, shoes in tow. My legs felt like they were splitting vertically and my toes knotted like mangled roots. I finally understood the term shin splints.
I have tried wearing heels higher than an inch several times since that traumatic day but cannot tolerate the pain. My feet prefer being level and near the ground. It’s important for me to be able to walk without the likelihood of getting injured. It’s selfish, I know.
High heels? You can have them. I much prefer my flip-flops and sneakers. I like going barefoot in the house and on the beach. My feet are happy. Free is the only way my feet know how to be. I’d like to hear your opinion. Thanks for reading mine.
We are all different people with varied histories traveling along the same roads in life. We meet new aquaintances and friends along the way, share the road for a while and veer off in a new direction.
When we care about someone and they begin taking a path that does not quite mesh with our value system, or vice versa, separation on some level naturally occurs.
We have a choice. Most of our differences fall into one of two categories. We can either learn to accept or at least leave room for openness and exchange of opinions and ideas. That’s where we grow.
Differences are what help us evolve as humans and come to a deeper understanding of each other. We form our own values from this place of understanding. Communication is a back and forth exchange of ideas.
What can happen too easily is we begin to shut down or turn away from each other. We might even slip down the icy slope and land in a muddy snowbank of intolerance. It’s a very dark place.
Communication can too easily break down entirely. I certainly am not the best communicator. I am working on improving that aspect of my personality. It can be challenging, but it is in our challenges where we find the deepest learning and growth.
Occasionally we find ourselves in an awkward position of either surrendering our own power to please another, or having to protect ourselves from further attempted control by severing all ties.
I’ve been on both sides of that fence and have learned that giving my power away is not a solution to anything. Ever. It creates deep resentment and anger, usually with both parties.
True resolution takes patience, effort and a willingness to meet somewhere in the middle to find common ground. This is where the deeper challenge comes in. Our truths are never the same.
Sometimes they’re so disconnected, it’s hard to find a starting point. We all interpret everything in the world differently, based on our life experiences and what we’re born with: the nature and nurture thing.
Miscommunication, including dodging an issue and avoiding confrontation are just a few of the obstacles we learn to maneuver through in the race toward understanding. Some people are just better runners than others. It’s easy to trip over the hurdles and crash land into the unforgiving gravel of separation.
I have been told by more than one person that I am difficult to live with. It’s true. I’m OK with that, but I am working on becoming a better me. I wouldn’t expect more than the same effort from anyone.
Isn’t that the point? Expecting someone else to change isn’t going to solve a thing for me. My focus needs to be on self-improvement, not other-improvement. Just think for a moment what our world would look like if we all shared this one habit for a day.
Traveling in different directions from others is not a bad thing. Sometimes we need to walk along the path alone, at least for a little while. It allows our innermost beliefs to emerge and light the way toward choosing the fork in the road that fits our own needs.
The fork we choose is our soul’s journey. It is on this journey where we can find the nature and reflection of our true selves. We bring that best self to our world to share and help create a level of better understanding and ideally, peace. Yes, I am a dreamer. It’s the fork I chose.
My blog is all about delving into the backstory of my poems. There is always a history behind the words that helps bring them to life. When You Look Up: Selection of Poems Vol. 1 will be published soon. In my free time I have written and rewritten my poems, covering a span of several years. Some of the poems are deep, some a little dark and some just for fun.
Writing is a process which sometimes easily morphs into a perfect complete piece and other times it just doesn’t seem to fit. I end up putting a poem aside for weeks, tweaking a few words here and there and repeating the process, many, many times.
Much like lather, rinse, repeat, poetry doesn’t feel right until the soul becomes squeaky clean again. A poem culminates in a great sense of satisfaction when the words flow perfectly through the pen, onto the page and off the tongue.
Like all things in our universe, words are energy. They contain a certain vibration. I became fascinated with energy and electrons and waves. In the 60s I read about Marie Curie and radioactivity. Since that time, I have learned from many wise writers.
Wayne Dyer shared with me how to, “Stop being offended.” Louise Hay informed me in her book, “You Can Heal Your Life.” I have learned from Robert Maurer how to take, “One Small Step.” I have learned from Byron Katie how to do, “The Work” of self-inquiry.
Mike Dooley showed me that, “Thoughts Become Things.” I have learned from Diane Zimberoff how to, “Break Free From the Victim Trap.” These are just a few of the most important messages in my life, all received through the written word. Words are energy.
In the 70s I read Carlos Castaneda and a book about crystal energy. In the 80s I learned how to meditate with Transcendental Meditation. In the 90s my world turned sideways. I learned that my choices would hold a potential for consequences beyond my limited understanding and reasoning.
Now I know if it were not for everything I have learned and done in my life, I would not be right here now, writing this. I would not be a published author. I do not wish to change a thing about my past. I’m happy to have traveled it and come away smiling.
In 2001 I learned that my country was no longer the safety net I had believed it was. Like most other Americans, I reeled in anguish for the lost souls in New York City.
In 2009 I attended an I Can Do It seminar in Tampa, Florida. Robert Holden took the stage. During his talk, he looked right at me when he said, “Your heart did not break. It was your ego.” My mouth dropped as the realization of truth took hold of me. I soon began to notice my writing journals taking a turn in a new direction: one of contentment and joy. I placed quotes on my mirror reminding me that I could do it.
In 2013 I became an Infinite Possibilities Trainer. I intended for many years, perhaps most of my life when I think back now, on becoming a writer. Now I am and I want to share what I have learned with others.
Poetry is ultimately for the reader, not the writer. Like art, many differing interpretations take place when you allow your mind the time necessary to read slowly, your body room to breathe in the words and your soul to ponder them deliberately. Reading poetry is like a slow dance: it must not be hurried, but instead savored through a certain rhythm that matches the beat of the music within the words.
Each blog post will cover the essence in each of my poems, in sequential order.
I enjoy sharing insights and ideas either on this public blog or in private email.