Still looking 

Still Looking

A poem for the people who have studied themselves and are still a little lost


I have been taking myself apart for years

and still I can’t explain the wreck

I know the diagrams, I’ve read the books

and still something’s caught in the neck

I’ve sat with therapists in quiet rooms

and walked out with the same old ache

the mirror offers nothing I don’t know

and still I can’t sleep when I wake

I know exactly how I pull away

I know the name of every wall

I built the taxonomy, laid it out flat

and then I went and did it all

There was a child who learned that love was leaving

who waited by a window every night

and when love finally stayed I found a reason

to stand up and turn off the light

The damage doesn’t stop when you discover it

it doesn’t care what you have named

it bleeds right through the bandage of your learning

and someone new gets stained

I’ve handed people maps of all my damage

said here’s the wound, here’s where it leads

and then I watched myself go right along

and plant the same old seeds

But something in the writing keeps me grounded

it pulls me back to what is real

not fixed, not freed, just willing to return

and say again what I still feel

There is a dignity in looking twice

in going back when nothing’s changed

the work is not the cure, the work is witness

a record of the strange

Fragility is not the proof of failure

the crack is where the light comes through

the fool who names his folly has more standing

than the one who never knew

I am not a villain for the wounds I carry

but I’m the one who gets to choose

I know the punchline now — it’s still worth laughing

at what I couldn’t bear to lose


About This Poem

I’ve been writing about myself for over fourteen years — the patterns, the contradictions, the gap between what I understand and what I actually do — and I still don’t have a tidy answer. That used to embarrass me. It doesn’t anymore, quite. What I’ve come to believe is that the examined life isn’t a problem to be solved; it’s a practice to be kept. This poem is about the specific frustration of knowing yourself well and still finding yourself at the same old crossroads — and why I think that frustration, named honestly, is worth more than a false arrival. If you’ve ever read something about attachment or self-sabotage and thought yes, that’s exactly it and then watched yourself do the thing anyway, you already know what this poem is about. My blog and Substack, going on fourteen years now, are built for the people who are still in that gap — not defeated by it, just honest about it.


Who This Is For

For the people who feel things deeply but can’t always find the words — and for whom someone else’s words, when they land right, feel like being heard for the first time. For the people sitting in the middle distance between belief and doubt, between knowing and doing, between who they were and who they’re trying to become. For anyone who has ever understood their own damage completely and still had to live through it anyway. That’s who I write for. That’s you.


DCG

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The case of Dane 

In third grade, Dane held a guitar like morning light,
And sang old mountains through a classroom door.
A boy with questions hidden out of sight,
Already felt the world was asking more.
He watched the grown-ups smile through private rain,
And learned that silence had a human face.
He named no wound, but carried half its pain,
Then offered others tenderness and space.
Teenage years came dressed in doubt and fire,
With music keeping time beside his bed.
He chased approval, hunger, hope, desire,
And feared the words that people left unsaid.
He laughed too loud when loneliness drew near,
Then called it wisdom just to seem less weak.
But every joke concealed a sharper fear,
That love might leave the moment he would speak.
At school he studied why the heart defends,
Why reason bends when ego wants the throne.
He read of minds, of truth, of means and ends,
Yet found no book could save a man alone.
Philosophy gave names to restless nights,
Psychology gave mirrors to his scars.
He learned that pride can counterfeit as rights,
And wounded children steer adult-like cars.
In young adulthood, Dane mistook his ache
For proof that closeness must be tightly held.
He loved as though one absence meant a break,
And every pause became a sentence spelled.
An anxious thread ran burning through his chest,
While calmer voices told him not to chase.
He tried to hold what needed room to rest,
And saw his need reflected in her face.
Yet empathy would stop him at the line,
Where love becomes a cage with holy art.
He learned her freedom was not less than mine,
And mercy must protect another heart.
He worked, he failed, he stood, he fell again,
Paid bills, wrote poems, swallowed private shame.
He watched ambition masquerade as Zen,
Then saw humility outlive the game.
His strengths were not the absence of a flaw,
But how he turned to face what made him small.
He found that truth was not a perfect law,
But courage answering the inward call.
Later, with dimmer eyes and clearer sight,
He met the God he could not fit in thought.
Not thunder only, but a patient light,
That found him most when certainty was not.
The Bible did not end his need to know,
But taught his restless mind to kneel and breathe.
A seed must vanish somewhere dark to grow,
And peace may come through what we cannot seize.
So Dane still walks where old attachments stir,
Still flinches when affection feels delayed.
But names the fear before it speaks for her,
And lets compassion interrupt the blade.
He writes because the soul must testify,
That frailty is not failure, only clay.
He asks if meaning waits beyond the sky,
Or if it forms in how we live today.
And when the final page begins to bend,
Will Dane find home, or one more road to roam?
Is God the answer waiting at the end,
Or just the voice still calling Dane toward home?

DCG

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Meaning in Our Existence

How much time and effort do you spend thinking that maybe you might be incorrect and wrong about what you know about life and your role in it?  Are you fulfilled in the life you are leading, and does it beg the question why is there so much discontent?  Is there something that you believe is fundamentally wrong with the world but you can’t put your finger on it, or is it an issue that you believe you can do nothing since you are only one person?

I surmise that reflective people would agree that if the sum total of events that create a person’s life are siphoned, managed, and processed through their conscious perceptions (additionally at times their unconscious perceptions), and furthermore their intuitions, and ideas also share this evaluation, then these impressions could be ultimately channeled through the logic of their belief systems, about themselves and the world, thus deriving a world view inclusive of their persona’s ego.  This world-view would include the known thoughts and feelings of others that we listen to, and those who influence us and our thinking.  The phenomena of experience can indeed shape us over time and is a major reason for our questioning the meaning in our lives and the meaning of a life that we create.  The sources of information we trust are only as effective as we allow them when they align with our thoughts, feelings and beliefs.

In the course of a person’s life, challenges to their ideas, beliefs, and feelings from others may result in a re-evaluation of their assessment of themselves.  Life can be a challenge for many reasons, and even more so for those in the scrutiny of others depending on their place in the civic world.

One starts to question the foundation of their belief system when it is challenged by people who face you with a different view.  People you know, people in your family or professional life that will often comment on their observations of your status in some way.  Even more disturbing is when the unexpected counter-message that differs from your own beliefs is brought to you over a period of time and it seems to still be a surprise to you.  For obvious reasons delusion, denial, and deceit among many other possibilities will disrupt a person if they are not ready for that contingency.  This includes that an awareness of all perceptions of the events are known, or that each side of the experience is contemplated.

Lao-Tzu

Other reasons for reaching this plane of thought is when the chronological and emotional maturity levels of an individual strikes us and makes us do things that try to remind us of a younger self, or alternatively tries to fill a void in the angst we are experiencing in some other way of acting out as a result from these feelings.  A balancing maneuver to equalize the disturbance perhaps.  The mid-life crisis as shown takes on many avenues in fruition.  Other reasons for asking these philosophical questions earlier than in the mid-life cycle of an adult is that one may experience something that disrupts their world view, weather or not it is conscious or something that compels them from a subconscious directive.  Something that makes them ponder more than what they now experience and suggests that they need something else to replace or supplement their condition as they see it.  Maybe some experience that crushed their world view in some way, or someone who challenged them to be more than what they have become could be the impetus that makes them take some form of action to correct this discovery.  The death of a close one, or family member, or some other catastrophic event that made them approach their lives from an entirely different perspective.  For me many questions arose at a very early age when I began to search for a better possible life because of the family chaos that evoked trauma and suffering as I was growing up.

The awakening at an early part of my life was when I was exposed to the work of W. Somerset Maugham‘s 1944 novel which was then turned into the 1946 film The Razor’s Edge.  The remake in 1984 would emerge and would lead me to the earlier works which I can say changed me from that day forward.

http://pictures.abebooks.com/GOTCHABY/md/md11021895773.jpg

It was the first time that I identified with the main character Larry Durrell, finding an affinity that matched my own yearning passion.  Weather the character is based on a real person or if it is purely a fictional character, the answer may never be truly be known for sure. (see the wanderling for further clarification).

“The man I am writing about is not famous. It may be that he never will be. It may be that when his life at last comes to an end he will leave no more trace of his sojourn on earth than a stone thrown into a river leaves on the surface of the water. But it may be that the way of life that he has chosen for himself and the peculiar strength and sweetness of his character may have an ever-growing influence over his fellow men so that, long after his death perhaps, it may be realized that there lived in this age a very remarkable creature.”

-W. Somerset Maugham, THE RAZOR’S EDGE-

The learning of such a character was only an outlet in my realization that others too searched for answers they did not quite understand.  Seeing this on film, and then reading the book made me more aware than ever before just how I was not alone in this mad quest for wanting more out of life.  The stigma of not being able to fit in with others at times was largely due to my nature, my continual quest for answers as I watched others my age act to impress their peers, or act to attract attention from others.  They acted in ways that led me to question why does this ego thing always interfere with our dealings in the world.  The sociology in youth is a very powerful force upon the group if the mind is still not ready for the austerity of the undeveloped mind.

I do not claim that I have any benefit from this vantage point at this time simply because I realized I knew nothing and used my observation skills to learn what others had demonstrated to me.  It was out of these times that I wandered and floated through my existence knowing that there was something more powerful for me to connect with, than just what some of my peers were exposing me to.  I also learned that it is essential to take risks, to meet life head on, and not to be an armchair observer.  One must take part, socialize and navigate the social realm, or they would quite possibly lose out on many lessons to be learned, and in extreme cases resort to becoming a recluse.   I remember the term we used in relationships between men and women of my age during our adolescence.  If we were stricken to being immature or had over-exacerbated ego’s, than we would treat each other in ways that would result in our identifying this treatment as playing “Games.”

The basic reason for game playing in relationships is to acquire something desired. Wanting an emotional or a tangible reward presents a reason to use covert tactics. Some games have become such a part of the personality that the gamer hardly realizes he or she is involved in a game of psychological cat and mouse.  Most of these tactics seem to be ego related and combined with a lack of social skill it can make a risky combo.  Even to this day I see adults continuing to “play” off of each other in many different types of relationships.  What is sad is that many still do not know why they resort to such efforts, since it is all they know, or that they have not yet learned better methods for acquiring the desired object.  The thought of rejection, or to protect the fragile ego may be a reason for such tactics, but the risk involved does have a price.

So again I ask, what moves you?  What is there in life that eludes you and makes you want something more from it that you are not receiving?  For as many people who ask these questions, there are also as many answers that will continue to evade some, and touch others.  To be human is to answer and ask!  To be human is to succeed and fail.  To be human is to seek and succumb.  The choice you make is the life you give the presence to.  The meaning you assign is the reality you live.  Which life will you choose?

RWE

For perspective purposes

Think on this….

perspective of universe_galaxy

Outside in the Rain

The poring rain, a storm of summer rain befalling me as I gaze up into the sky.  A rain storm that drenched my body with warm summer drops, and in the excitement of this happening I stay outside in the rain.  I remember a time when I was just a boy, when a sudden storm immediately drenched my body as I remain outside splashing in the streets.  One of my favorite band songs to play also had this theme…

I’m outside in the rain

my mama tells me to come inside

I tell her no I’ve just got to lead my own life  Ah Yeah

And now I’m out on my own

I’ve never been so far from home

Its kind of strange but the answers to life are out there

I know

I’m outside in the rain

And I feel the same

I’m getting older now

I’ll find it somehow

the times are getting tough

People I meet they just come and go

I tell my friends that I’ve got to live on my own now

Ah Yeah

The years and years go by

I keep on searching but I don’t know why

If there’s an answer I hope I find it before I die

Yeah

I’m outside in the rain

And I feel the same

I’m getting older now

I’ll find it somehow

-Solo-

I’m outside in the rain

And I feel the same

I’m getting older now

I’ll find it somehow

I’m outside in the rain

my mama tells me to come inside

I tell her no I’ve just got to lead my Oh -own life

Yeah

I’m outside in the rain

And I feel the same

I’m getting older now

I’ll find it somehow

Outside in the Rain:
Words and Music: Rob Cleland & Todd Armer