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

Screenshot

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 

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

Screenshot

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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Therefore it is Thus

I share my life

Getting my past mistakes clear

I give of myself

To those I hold dear

I’ve come to the conclusion

We are here for each other

Not far from that

Of a virtual mother

We trick ourselves thinking

The self should be nourished

When the truth is

This should be discouraged

The muse we must follow

Extends beyond inside us

Puts the other person before

Therefore it is thus

My allegiance my sacrifice

This declaration I make

Your happiness is mine

A mutual sharing for its sake

We are bound together

On this earth we call home

Cast away the falsehoods

That continue to roam

DCG

Fortuitous Contingencies

Lighthouse

It is reasonable to assert that the newness of a relationship, the newness in the pursuit of other ambitions in life are what motivates, identifies,  and conserves our enamored states.  To some, driving down a highway never traveled, to others it may be the process of building a skill into what may become a very lucrative enterprise.  The excitement we experience of what has not yet transpired, and imagining just how it might be occupies the unpredictable possibilities that seed our lives.  The unknown factors we cannot anticipate, and our expectations of a situation will drive our reactions to what has not yet come to be in our world.  Much of what our lives are comprised of are the resulting realities we eventually encounter; they are not the determiners of our fate, but rather, they are just the multitude of circumstances we will find ourselves in.  These are what I call the fortuitous contingencies that populate our existence.

We are the captain’s and navigators in our travels.  We are the agents that decide on how to proceed with our lives when circumstances (foreseen and unforeseen) cross our paths.  Skillful navigators usually avoid “treacherous” waters before any misconduct enters into the equation in their dealings with others,  though, one must admit that risk taking at times is essential for growth and expansion of one’s participation.

In my experience I have been fortunate enough to benefit from mistakes and miscalculations I’ve made and the mistakes and oversight’s of others by proxy.  From a very early age I have had a keen interest in understanding human behavior, and later those who have made an effort to “self-actualize” themselves.  I have studied scores of philosophers, psychologists, mystics, and spiritual leaders to find answers for questions I have repeatedly asked for many years of my life.  However, despite the preparation one can undertake their still exists the element of unpredictability, and the uncertainty in this capricious world we inhabit.

The discovery of unrealized dreams, or finding yourself uncovering a passion that has been dormant within your soul has a tremendous effect on your being.  One can become awakened to a whole new life of possibility.  The direction one travels in life is up to the helmsmen.  One cannot change the waters, but one can navigate what already exists, or maybe steer into what had not been thought possible before.  If a change of the water is not possible, than possibly a change in one’s thinking can alter the course altogether and therefore change the dynamics of the situation.  Instead of a ship, use a submarine!

Henry David Thoreau“So thoroughly and sincerely are we compelled to live, reverencing our life, and denying the possibility of change. This is the only way, we say; but there are as many ways as there can be drawn radii from one centre.”― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi“Man often becomes what he believes himselfto be. If I keep on saying to myself that I cannot do a certain thing, it is possible that I may end by really becoming incapable of doing it. On the contrary, if I have the belief that I can do it, I shall surely acquire the capacity to do it even if I may not have it at the beginning.”

Steve Maraboli“A mindset of gratitude lifts the veil of bitterness and allows you to see beauty and possibility.”― Steve Maraboli