Limerence 


I write to you from inside the storm,
and from the doorway where I watch it form.
I have loved you mostly inside my head,
a theater of scenes that never get said.
You appear, then vanish, a flickering sign,
and my heart runs after what is never quite mine.
I call this love, but it burns like a fever,
a vow to a ghost and a distant believer.
I rewind small moments until they all blur,
a glance, a breath, the way you never were.
You stay perfected, framed in my mind,
and I fade smaller just to keep you kind.
I have abandoned myself chasing your name,
walking over glass while calling it flame.
Each silence from you becomes a loud judge,
each crumb of regard, a banquet I won’t budge.
Your armor is heavy, your doors stay closed tight,
yet I camp at the gate, praying you’ll turn toward the light.
You retreat into distance, I rush into fire,
thinking if I burn enough, you’ll feel desire.
I have studied our pattern like scripture and code,
watched it etch scars in my nervous road.
You step back whenever I try to draw near,
and I step in closer every time you disappear.
The gap between us is more than just space,
it’s all of my effort poured into your grace.
Now a new voice trembles under my skin,
asking why I keep losing myself to not win.
It tells me love is not meant as a chase,
not an endless exam I must constantly ace.
It whispers my worth is older than you,
that my pulse didn’t start when you came into view.
So I gather my pieces from altars and floors,
and start closing shrines with your name on their doors.
I turn these letters inward for the first time,
writing truth to the self I left out in the grime.
I step back, not to wound or accuse,
but to finally stop making myself the one I lose.
I still ache, I still want, I still remember your face,
yet the fantasy no longer gets to set the pace.
I walk away on unsteady, unfamiliar legs,
carrying both my longing and unanswered begs.
Somewhere beyond this unfinished, jagged bend,
something real may rise—if I dare not write the end.

RSP

DCG

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If/then: a philosophical treaties on Empirical observation in epistemology 

Prologue

This poem examines what it means to observe, to remember, and to imagine within the limits of human awareness. It follows a chain of simple “if–then” reasoning to explore how perception shapes reality, how memory reshapes the past, and how expectation invents the future. It does not claim answers, but traces consequences—drawing from ideas in physics, psychology, and everyday experience—to invite reflection on what we truly know when we say we are present.

If time is a line we feel but never see,
Then now is the only place our mind can be.
If light can act as wave until we stare,
Then what we watch may change what is there.
If measurement turns the spread into a point,
Then seeing may fix what was once disjoint.
If the observer plays a hidden role,
Then knowing may shape what we call whole.
If we can only stand inside the now,
Then all that we know must happen somehow.
If each thought is bound to present sight,
Then past and future are made in this light.
If memory is built from fragile trace,
Then truth may bend as we give it a face.
If minds rebuild what they think they recall,
Then stories of self may not be all.
If witnesses often disagree,
Then memory is less than certainty.
If the brain fills gaps it cannot see,
Then fiction may feel like history.
If we imagine a future ahead,
Then we walk through thoughts, not paths we tread.
If fear can paint what has not come,
Then the future can feel already done.
If we compare ourselves with those we meet,
Then identity forms from what we see on the street.
If aging is known by watching others decay,
Then we borrow time in a secondhand way.
If the body changes beyond our control,
Then time writes its mark on the living whole.
If the mind resists what it cannot keep,
Then loss becomes a thought we bury deep.
If we observe ourselves as we think,
Then we stand both inside and at the brink.
If self-awareness splits the view in two,
Then we are both the watcher and the view.
If attention selects what we hold tight,
Then reality narrows within our sight.
If what we ignore fades into the blur,
Then absence can feel like it never were.
If focus acts like a quiet gate,
Then what gets through may shape our fate.
If perception is filtered before it is known,
Then the world we see is partly our own.
If language frames the thoughts we keep,
Then words decide how ideas speak.
If simple terms can carry deep weight,
Then meaning can grow without ornate state.
If emotion colors what we perceive,
Then feeling decides what we believe.
If fear and hope both guide the eye,
Then truth may shift as they pass by.
If logic follows what we assume,
Then flawed first steps can lead to gloom.
If we test belief with careful doubt,
Then clearer paths may sort things out.
If science shows limits in what we can know,
Then certainty is softer than we show.
If quantum rules suggest chance at the base,
Then order may rise from a shifting place.
If randomness lives beneath the seen,
Then control is less than it may seem.
If cause and effect still guide our day,
Then patterns help us find a way.
If we learn from error and revise our view,
Then growth is built from what is not true.
If each mistake can refine the mind,
Then wisdom is error redesigned.
If we live through moments one by one,
Then life is never fully done.
If each “now” replaces the last we knew,
Then we are always becoming new.
If identity shifts with time and thought,
Then the self is a process, not a spot.
If we cling to who we think we are,
Then change may feel like a distant star.
If awareness can soften rigid belief,
Then seeing clearly may bring relief.
If we accept limits in what we know,
Then honest thought can still grow.
If meaning is made from how we attend,
Then purpose depends on the lens we send.
If we choose where our focus will stay,
Then we help shape our lived display.
If reality meets us through mind and sense,
Then truth includes both world and lens.
If we question gently what we assume,
Then thought can open a wider room.
If no final answer is firmly sealed,
Then wonder remains unrevealed.
If we stand in the present, aware but unsure,
Then the human condition remains obscure.
:::

DCG

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A wound that we carried became the Crusade 

The Poem

We think that we argue with logic and light,
But the war in the room is invisible — inside.
You’re not fighting a fact when you’re fighting tonight,
You are fighting the person who lives in their pride.
A belief isn’t held like a book on a shelf,
It is worn like a skin, like a name, like a scar.
To challenge the idea is to challenge the self,
And the self will defend itself, near or far.
So the harder you push, the more deeply they dig,
The more certain they feel as you prove them all wrong.
The argument planted a doubt that grew big,
So they held to their story, they made it more strong.
We were not born with these views fully made,
We were broken by something we never could say.
A wound that we carried became the crusade,
An old pain became armor we carry today.
The emotion came first — long before the belief,
Before the philosophy, before the firm stand.
An experience seeking its narrative relief,
A trembling heart reaching for somewhere to land.
And reason arrived like a lawyer retained,
To argue a case that was already won.
The verdict was settled, the jury was trained,
The mind was the courtroom — and so it was done.
No study was needed, no figure, no chart,
The judgment was carved in the marrow and bone.
You cannot reach someone by way of their mind
When the road that you need runs directly through heart.
So if you would reach them, don’t carry a sword,
Don’t marshall your data, don’t build up your case.
Sit still for a moment, and pull up a chair,
And ask them the question that opens a space.
Not “why are you wrong?” but “where did this start?
What part of your living convinced you of this?”
For that is the doorway — not proof and not art,
But the quiet of wondering what you might miss.
The mind will change only when something in it
Grows curious enough to consider the cost.
Not when it’s beaten, not when it’s been hit,
But when it decides that it’s willing to cross.
We don’t change our minds when we lose in the fight,
We change when we’re curious enough to explore.
Not when we’re shamed in the merciless light,
But when we feel safe enough to open the door.
So speak to the wound that first seeded the thought,
Speak to the human behind what they claim.
The battle of argument cannot be fought

When the person defending is fighting their name.

DCG

Screenshot

Analysis of the Core Statements
This argument rests on five interlocking ideas:

  1. Belief is identity — People do not hold beliefs the way they hold opinions about pizza. They fuse beliefs with who they are.
  2. Arguments feel like attacks — When you challenge the belief, the person experiences it as a personal assault on the self, triggering defensive entrenchment.
  3. Emotion precedes reason — Beliefs are not constructed from facts up. They are built from emotional experiences first, and reason is recruited afterward to justify them.
  4. Emotional pain seeds belief — Prior wounds, fears, and lived pain create fertile ground for specific beliefs to take hold — the belief soothes or explains the pain.

5. Curiosity, not argument, changes minds — When people do shift their views, it is not because they were defeated in debate. It is because genuine curiosity about why you believe what you believe created an opening.

Scientific Support — The Research is Robust
Jonathan Haidt — The Elephant and the Rider
Haidt’s Social Intuitionist Model is the cornerstone study here. Haidt’s decades of research, summarized in The Righteous Mind (2012), demonstrated that moral and political beliefs are driven primarily by gut-level intuition — the emotional “elephant” — while conscious reasoning functions as a press secretary for the elephant, constructing post-hoc justifications. According to his Moral Foundations Theory, people are “morally dumbfounded” — they know something feels wrong but cannot explain why, which proves the emotion came first.
Dan Kahan — Identity-Protective Cognition
Dan Kahan of Yale’s Cultural Cognition Project coined the term “identity-protective cognition” — the unconscious tendency to process evidence in ways that shield one’s group identity rather than reach accurate conclusions. Critically, his research shows that higher intelligence and science literacy actually amplify this effect. Smarter people are better at motivated reasoning — they construct more sophisticated defenses of beliefs they were never willing to change.
Claude Steele — Self-Affirmation Theory
Steele’s landmark 1988 work at Stanford established that the self-system is constantly engaged in maintaining a sense of moral and adaptive adequacy. When beliefs tied to identity are threatened, the entire self feels threatened, not just the idea. The self mobilizes defensively. Sherman and Cohen’s extensions of this work confirmed that reducing this self-threat — through affirmation — is one of the only reliable ways to open a person to reconsidering a belief.
Leon Festinger — Cognitive Dissonance
Festinger’s Cognitive Dissonance Theory (1957) laid the groundwork: people experience genuine psychological discomfort when new information conflicts with held beliefs, and they work to eliminate that discomfort — most often by rejecting the new information rather than changing the belief.
Nyhan & Reifler — The Backfire Effect
Nyhan and Reifler (2010) documented the “backfire effect” — corrections to political misinformation sometimes caused people to believe the false claim more strongly. While later meta-analyses by Wood and Porter (2019) found the effect is less universal than originally claimed, the core dynamic — resistance to correction under conditions of identity threat — is thoroughly supported.
NIH Neuroscience — Belief as Self-Referential Processing
A 2024 NIH neuroimaging study found that challenges to political beliefs activate the brain’s Default Mode Network — specifically the regions governing self-referential processing and introspection. The brain literally treats a political argument the same way it treats a threat to the self.
APA — Curiosity as a Change Agent

APA research on curiosity and practical communication analysis confirm your final point: curiosity — not argument — is the lever of genuine persuasion. A conversation that induces curiosity about why you believe what you believe creates the only real opening for change.

The Concise Argument

We do not argue about facts. We argue about who we are.
Beliefs are not ideas we carry — they are identities we inhabit. When someone challenges your belief, your nervous system does not register it as a debate. It registers it as a threat to the self. You don’t think your way to a belief; you feel your way there first, often through pain, loss, or fear that needed an explanation. Reason arrives after the fact to build the case. This is why more facts, better arguments, and louder voices almost never change minds — they only harden them. The only documented pathway to genuine belief change is curiosity: a person’s own willingness to wonder why someone else sees the world differently. You cannot argue someone out of a position they did not argue themselves into.

Metacognition is the brain’s ability to monitor and evaluate its own mental processes (like perceptions, memories, and decisions) and use that self‑knowledge to guide behavior.[parisbraininstitute +3]
Brief summary of metacognition
In neuroscience, metacognition is often defined as “thinking about your thinking” or “cognition about cognition.” It involves monitoring how well you are perceiving, remembering, or deciding, and generating signals like confidence or doubt about your own performance. These metacognitive signals support skills such as noticing errors, adjusting strategies, controlling attention, and regulating emotions. Neuroimaging work links metacognition especially to frontal and prefrontal brain circuits, which are part of the broader executive control system and our sense of self‑awareness.[ac +7]
What the amygdala does in cognition
The amygdala is an almond‑shaped structure in the medial temporal lobe that is part of the limbic system. It is crucial for assigning emotional significance (especially threat, fear, and reward value) to stimuli and events, and for triggering appropriate physiological and behavioral responses. The amygdala contributes to several cognitive functions by acting as a salience detector: it influences attention, perception, learning, and memory, particularly for emotionally charged or motivationally relevant information. It also supports implicit emotional learning (like fear conditioning) and modulates how strongly emotional experiences are encoded and consolidated into memory.[nih +4]
Direct comparison
You can think of metacognition as a monitor of cognition: the anterior prefrontal cortex , whereas the amygdala is more of a tagger and driver of emotional salience in cognition.

One way to put it: metacognition watches and evaluates your thoughts, while the amygdala helps decide what in the environment “matters” emotionally and should capture your cognitive resources.[neurosciencenews +8]

The evidence shows that the amygdala functions much faster than the anterior prefrontal cortex processes

Let that sink in 

Amathia –the illusion of wisdom 

Some will defend

Some will condemn

The Socratic idea of amathia

The illusion of wisdom

The intellect becomes a weapon of self deception

Reason becomes distorted by ego and Will where truth is not the goal and becomes willful ignorance 

Some will defend with flame and light,
Others condemn, steeped in night.
The Socratic shadow casts its claim,
Amathia’s veil, a whispered name.
An illusion spun in wisdom’s dress,
Where knowing masks our deep duress.
The intellect, sharp-edged and keen,
A weapon forged, yet sight unseen.
Self-deception drapes the mind’s hall,
Reason falters, begins to crawl.
Ego’s throne mocks humble sight,
Will distorts the stolen light.
Truth recedes, a fading shore,
Not the quest, but something more.
We chase the thought as hunters do,
Blind to what’s glaring true.
In halls of logic, cold and vast,
The heart’s soft echo fades too fast.
Amathia, the ignorance crowned,
In wisdom’s court, a silent sound.
The mind’s own maze, a twisted path,
Where reason grapples aftermath.
We build our towers from fragile clay,
Dreams of knowing slip away.
Fractured souls in tangled threads,
Where certainty with doubt now wed.
The human mind, a fragile cage,
A paradox in endless page.
We yearn to see, yet fear the show,
What we don’t know, we claim as woe.
Insight’s flame both lights and blinds,
Echoing through ancient minds.
Complex webs of thought and pain,
Where wisdom wars within the brain.
No final truth, just endless spin,
A dance of shadow deep within.
Observe the frailty, the great unknown,
In every mind a seed is sown.
The journey not to win or lose,
But to embrace what we can’t choose.
For in the riddle, we find our place,
The beauty of this human race.
A mind that stumbles toward the light,
Embracing both the dark and bright.
Forever caught in reason’s gleam,
And Socrates’ eternal dream.

DCG

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Lost in Translation

The significance of experiencing contrast in our lives gives us a perspective that will remain auspicious in our memories.  The world is continually providing us with contrast as we are not omniscient beings, hence we cannot predict future events that we will eventually weather.  For the average person much of this is “lost in translation” and If we are observant than we may find that these experiences will awaken us to a multitude of foresight in the maturation of our humanity.  Many of us struggle and find that we neglect to learn from some of these enigmatic lessons that are poised within the span of our lives.  We often can become inspired and transformed by events via our emotions that we entwine into our experience.  Much of this effort should come from within ourselves.  How we translate these lessons into our lives can be an amazing occurrence, or it can be just another non-eventful happening and at worst will taint us and leave us jaded.  What we do to make our positive experience flourish within our lives is truly up to us.

How we connect with our world and allow it to transform us is unique to each one of us.  We are bound fundamentally by the same mechanisms, yet we all also are so diversely directed by its influence.  This is a huge revelation, because this shows that we do have control how this affects us, we are in charge of how we become motivated or discouraged by events that touch us.  When I suggest how events touch us, I truly mean touch us, as they influence more than just our intellect.  There is a deeper penetration of our nature that awakens a very primitive human connection to how we relate with the world.

It is more than intellectual, and includes part of our emotive factions, and what the ancients called our “spirited” factions of our being.  We often believe that we merely receive the world as it produces the content of our experience.  I think however that we create much of what we experience by how we conform to the content and context of our experience that the world provides.  Keep in mind that I am mixing much of the established rationalistic claims and the  empiricist claims of philosophy into my claim of epistemological knowledge.  Again the significance in our ability to discern contrast in our experience is crucial on how we interpret and integrate the events that form our lives.

The Buddha twice uses the simile of blind men led astray. In the Canki Sutta he describes a row of blind men holding on to each other as an example of those who follow an old text that has passed down from generation to generation.  In the Udana (68–69) he uses the elephant parable to describe sectarian quarrels. A king has the blind men of the capital brought to the palace, where an elephant is brought in and they are asked to describe it.

When the blind men had each felt a part of the elephant, the king went to each of them and said to each: ‘Well, blind man, have you seen the elephant? Tell me, what sort of thing is an elephant?’

The men assert the elephant is either like a pot (the blind man who felt the elephant’s head), a winnowing basket (ear), a plowshare (tusk), a plow (trunk), a granary (body), a pillar (foot), a mortar (back), a pestle (tail) or a brush (tip of the tail).

The men cannot agree with one another and come to blows over the question of what it is like and their dispute delights the king. The Buddha ends the story by comparing the blind men to preachers and scholars who are blind and ignorant and hold to their own views: “Just so are these preachers and scholars holding various views blind and unseeing…. In their ignorance they are by nature quarrelsome, wrangling, and disputatious, each maintaining reality is thus and thus.” The Buddha then speaks the following verse:

O how they cling and wrangle, some who claim
For preacher and monk the honored name!
For, quarreling, each to his view they cling.
Such folk see only one side of a thing.

This is the basis of our diversity and our abilities to synthesize the elemental experiences into our cognition’s.  We are bound to how we internalize these events in a myriad of ways.  Each one of us shapes much of our experience to very personal preferences that have an effect on the outcome of its meaning and its significance to us.  We ultimately decide how we embrace it or if we reject it.

A Bridge of Discovery

I’ve often asked myself just what I think I would like most in this world.  Surprisingly I found that when the question is asked every 10 years, in my case it seemed to yield similar answers every time asked.  I know we have selective memories and that we can often betray our own senses, but when looking back through all the years I have witnessed, there are only a few truly codifying moments for me to reveal.

What is it that we want more than anything else in this world?

To answer this question I went back in time to ask myself just what I thought at different ages in my life.  I used a very special time machine for this purpose to collect my information.  This time machine is an elaborate instrument that has more neural connections than the known stars in the sky.  There is no exact number, as most neurons are too tiny to be viewed with a microscope, but conservative estimates put it at least 1 trillion (10^12) connections in the brain alone.

Take the optic nerve for an example – this is one nerve that runs from the eye to the brain and is responsible for sight.  There are 1 million neurons in this particular nerve alone – so each neuron has 999,999 potential partners – but it must meet with its exact partner out of 1,000,000 for vision.

Thus, this time machine I call upon produces the memories that populate my mind and sends me back to the time I wish and I ask myself just what it is that I wanted?  After I reviewed the most popular 3 answers for each time I asked this question, there was always one that stood out which you see below.

  • 7 Year Old: The love of my parents and brother
  • 17 Year Old: The friendships and acceptance outside of my family
  • 27 Year Old: Starting my own family
  • 37 Year Old: The love and acceptance from my daughter
  • 47 Year Old: The acceptance and forgiveness of myself

It is an interesting set of answers to an interesting question that spans forty years and demonstrates the quintessential desire in human relationships for me at least.  Of course these are based on my circumstances for each time, my disposition toward the world for each time, my personality and ego’s assessment at each time, and a subconscious presence in these times were evaluated for content in those contexts.  I chose to begin with the age of seven years old because around that time I have memories that began to question such matters.

The notion that memories can be considered as mental time capsules; a snapshot of time that you can again review is as sound as the memory if indeed the memory is stored accurately.  The truism that I am exploiting may just have a duel edge; one that can teach us a history lesson (if we have learned it), or one edge that defies the lesson we still need to earn.

For me I am fortunate to have sources other than my memory.  The memory of my friends, family, and that of my journals can give much information when asking the right questions.  What I found to be striking is the preoccupation with this topic of how I fit into the social arena.  I am perplexed at the matter because on a casual observation, it seems that I am just that, ‘preoccupied’ with those around me, or how I seem to relate to them.  But further analysis indicates that I have a fundamental disconnection with some of the people in my life, that I am searching and have always been searching for a greater metaphysical connection than what I have been able to make during this time in my life.  I do not take into account the material wants, as I seek a deeper question that involves more than this physical world can provide for us.  I edited my answers above with this in mind, and I am left with still a perplexing question for anyone to consider.

It is the reason for my Enneagram personality and orientation to the world growing up as a small child.  It is the reason for the disposition in my relationships through-out much of my life and the yearnings for deeper connections.  It is also responsible for much of how I handled and mishandled the emotional events and the coping strategies used when going through my personal endeavors.

You can take any life and extract out of it any meaning you wish to make a case for, but for me, I am, and always have been one that has sought out some measure of truth I can feel deeply.  Not a religious experience, or beliefs that will satisfy a mind’s logical analysis, but rather to engage in a deeper experience that is felt in your entire being.  Much talk of this is found in many religions, and from many mystics around the world.  For reasons I do not completely understand, I have a need to open the doors that have not yet opened for me.  I somehow feel there is more than what I am allowing myself to see given my disposition.

It is that reason that I have always looked but have not yet found in the course of my life.  I am like one of those blind men in the parable of the elephant….

In the Udana (68–69)[7] the Buddha uses the elephant parable to describe sectarian quarrels.  A king has the blind men of the capital brought to the palace, where an elephant is brought in and they are asked to describe it.

When the blind men had each felt a part of the elephant, the king went to each of them and said to each: ‘Well, blind man, have you seen the elephant? Tell me, what sort of thing is an elephant?’

The men assert the elephant is either like a pot (the blind man who felt the elephants’ head), a winnowing basket (ear), a plowshare (tusk), a plow (trunk), a granary (body), a pillar (foot), a mortar (back), a pestle (tail) or a brush (tip of the tail).

The men cannot agree with one another and come to blows over the question of what it is like and their dispute delights the king.  The Buddha ends the story by comparing the blind men to preachers and scholars who are blind and ignorant and hold to their own views:  “Just so are these preachers and scholars holding various views blind and unseeing…. In their ignorance they are by nature quarrelsome, wrangling, and disputatious, each maintaining reality is thus and thus.”  The Buddha then speaks the following verse:

O how they cling and wrangle, some who claim
For preacher and monk the honored name!
For, quarreling, each to his view they cling.
Such folk see only one side of a thing.[8]

The Moral….

“We have to remember that what we observe is not nature in itself, but nature exposed to our method of questioning.” – Werner Heisenberg

Therefore one must ask the right questions and out of that reasoning comes my metaphysical problem which can lead one to break through the reasoning barrier by uniting with another human intention and energy of perception.  Hence my lifelong solution may just lie within my perceptive abilities.  Abilities such as the mystical encounters by which many may have transitioned over their rational realms to reach a deeper understanding given their conditioning.  A psychic gap bridged by other features of our experience in this world, one that can be ‘felt’ and not just thought!

This gives a whole new outlook when rereading works such as …

For the obvious reasons my search is still on.  Differences on how we learn best is evident in many of the studies I have read that can be found in the current psychological literature.  Some people are more verbal, some are more tactile, some are more visual, and some are more abstract, et cetera, so by virtue of this analogy I may have not done justice to the materials I was working with on a very rational level.  My accounts must also seed my other inner senses to fully grasp an experience in this life that appreciates much more of it.  I must also live in the practice of undoing my former conditioning that prevents me from aligning with a deeper self, one that ‘knows’ it is connected to all that is around.  The bridge I build is one for the heart, one that will further my journey into discovery.

a post dedicated to LLW