CRAZY - NOT, SLEEP DISORDERS, TBI'S AND STUFF

Going back to where we were talking about traumatic brain injuries...
The one decent thing I did when I was away from my family was being a caregiver to a teenager with severe tbi (when he was 4 yrs old, he had stepped into a family backyard pool during a barbeque and no-one noticed -- no-one knows how long he was under but he was on life-support for quite a few weeks, not expected to live; when they took him off oxygen, to everyone's great surprise, he began breathing on his own and not too long after, "came to" - no speech, had to re-learn walking etc.) By the time I was with him, he had graduated high school and was enrolled in a post-secondary school culinary arts (an experimental program where he was being integrated) - he still had trouble communicating but he was very much "in there". In my opinion, he was even more capable than the people around him thought. He wanted desperately to learn to read, and I think he was on the verge of doing that when I, unfortunately had my own health issues, and we lost touch.

I also have a close friend who was badly hurt in a car accident several years ago. What at first seemed "just a concussion" has proved, a tbi. She went from being a highly productive member of society to barely able to do volunteer work. On the upside, she and her husband are right now attending a camp for those with this type of injury. I'm really looking forward to hearing what she's learned when they get back.

Then, back to talking a bit about mental health stuff:
In the main, I agree with what you have to say about the mental illness continuum nathaxm...how there is such room on either side of the "labeling" and how too, usually the patient can work through many of the episodes if given the right amount of time and situation...

I was starting to talk about: the more you know, the better:
The library in that teaching hospital where I was had so much information, I had to learn to disseminate very quickly. (This was before computers were readily available, so I was making tons of longhand notes.) Another stroke of luck was that early on, I found the huge text, Manic-Depressive Illness - the definitive text used by those studying medicine and those who become psychiatrists - this is not normally something that would have impressed me, but someone had already told me about Kay Redfield Jamison and when I noticed she had co-authored this text, I found myself more inclined to pay attention to it than I might've been normally.

Jamison has been for me, a personal hero. First of all, she is witty, brilliant, well-spoken and writes extremely well...even her co-authored text is accessible for a non-medico, like me (not all of it, of course, but enough so that I could understand what I need(ed) to: she wrote it with Frederick K.Goodwin incidentally.)

All of these things would be impressive enough, but - the main thing that tops my list for making her so impressive is that Jamison is a really high-functioning manic depressive.(And she would be fine, I think, with the old designation, seeming to disparage the new DSMV etc etc things, as much or more than some of us - funny, coming from a doctor.)

The unimaginable amount of pressure Jamison must have been under while she was a practicing physician, a psychiatrist even, at UCLA, but not "out" as a manic depressive bewilders me at times. In her book, An Unquiet Mind, she details her misgivings about telling her superiors about her disorder - about how she feared they wouldn't respect her as a doctor, how she would end up losing both her job and her license. It is also in this book though, that she takes the leap, and talks about her illness from beginning to "now" and risks it all.

As she says in the book, within a month of signing on as an assistant professor at UCLA, she was well on her way into madness. In three months, she was fully manic - and then the book truly starts and she tells her life of this debilitating illness from her point-of-view (and everyone's is different, depending on triggers, compliance, and any number of things...it is an eye-opening look at one brilliant woman's journey - *spoiler alert, Dr.Redfield Jamison is Professor of Psychiatry at Johns Hopkins School of Medicine, still co-author of that famous text, and considered one of the foremost authorities on manic-depressive illness.)

Jamison has also written about mental illness and creativity - her Touched with Fire is probably the most complete document written that details many types of artists, their family trees, their disorders and how they did, or didn't, influence their art. It is by far one of my favourite books.

Jamison has also addressed suicide in her poignant Night Falls Fast. As someone who has visited that dark doorstep herself, she has particular insights to share about this struggle which sadly so many bump up against at least once during their lives.

And once again, I've rambled and rattled along. You can see why I felt the need to post to a blog...
Thank you both again (and any others who've come along) for your insights and thoughts. I do appreciate them.

SINGEING BLACK

Growing gray
in the grand asylum,
she knows there
are rites being ritualized,
outside where she committed
the final transgression.

That time when she thought
burning a candle
would lead to her soul
simply being reborn;
neglecting the cautions
about lighting both ends...

Singeing herself dark
as someone from Africa
Now she cackles all the time,
"Me myself from the demimonde
used to be orange-skinned."
Before lapsing into silence
quiet as dying.

re unsubscribing from posts or emails

Just wanted to mention, in particular to "Anonymous" - if you have subscribed to this site and are receiving unwanted emails (especially every time someone comments, as you mentioned in an email to me, and which I don't understand as it's been some time since anyone has commented here) ... In any case, I believe you have to unsubscribe yourself...I don't think it's something I can do from this end. Sorry.

JANIS IAN IS MY MUSE

Almost four decades ago, she brought

“Tea and Sympathy” to my apartment

and stayed long after midnight

because we were both too tired to ride the

Milk train any more – I knew then that

there was another soul inhabiting

space on the planet with whom I felt

truly simpatico, and it would not matter

if we ever met, as long as I had her

writing to see me through, and through

As happens with muses, mine would flit

in and out of consciousness; sometimes her

writing often mirrored my life patterns

so closely I could not stand to listen

and would stack her vinyl out of sight

Until I could not bear its absence – then pull

out “Stars” and “Hunger” and put them on

the turntable, letting both tears and empathy

help my aching heart expose itself to

the light, listening again and again to

“Getting Over You” and “Jesse” and of course

sharing “Tea and Sympathy” once again,

a song that seemed to be our anthem.

Just recently, my muse came to the town

which I now call home and performed

in a smallish theatre with some cafe-style

seating down near the stage – which is where

I was fortunate enough to sit.

Oh my, Janis Ian is every bit as wonderful

as I had hoped—in addition to playing

one of the meanest blues guitars you’re

likely to hear anywhere, and I do mean

anywhere and from anyone,  including

slow-hand Clapton, Jonny Lang, Buddy Guy,

and Jeff Beck ...

In person – she is as gifted a story-teller

as one could wish for; a natural raconteur,

With a self-deprecating way of recounting

anecdotes that fill in bits of her history

that never seems rehearsed or boring ...

I was entranced; and imagine, in her fifties

her voice is clearer, more resonant, strong

and pitch-perfect than ever ...

I purchased her autobiography that night

—customs wouldn't allow her to bring her CD’s

across the border for some reason but the

book was already being sold here —go figure;

I began reading the book that night and could not

put it down, “Society’s Child” is mesmerizing

and held me in its thrall completely

Now, not only is she my muse, she

has vaulted into heroine status as well

As I join her legion of fans that work

within her organization for freedom and

social justice – in fact parts of her activist life

ring so familiar, I'm not sure she and I haven’t

been leading somewhat parallel lives at times;

It’s almost eerie – but in a good way.

The capper to my enthusiastic and continued

embracing of my muse as one of the best,

in all senses of the word was this – when she

realized how disheartened we were that we’d

be unable to buy any of her CD’s at her show,

she made this offer – if we ordered any of her

stuff off her website, all we needed to do was

scrawl “Canada” anywhere on the order form,

and she would see that we got a free

DVD of one of her recent performances –

Buying anything from Ian is a win-win proposition

since a portion of every sale goes to her

Foundation, Pearl, named for her late mother

Well, I did – and she did; not only did she include

the free DVD, she also sent along two signed

guitar picks,  a nice touch, I thought – tokens

I carry everywhere – ready inspiration.

  

Yeah, Janis Ian is definitely my muse

More than once I've tried to deconstruct

one of her songs and rewrite it as a poem

and realized her true brilliance when I

discover just how difficult that task is ...

Right now the song in question is “Shadow”

For she is just someone standing closer to

The sun and I am just the shadow by her side

Yeah – I wish

S.E.Ingraham©

BENEATH THE MIRRORED SURFACE

There is a lake just north of here with magic

Hidden deep beneath its glossy plane

So cleverly disguised is it, one might pass it by

To do so would be sad I guess, not tragic

But a chance missed all the same

To slide inside another world, who would not try

It is after all a lake just, and not at all pelagic

And once discerned the demarcation like a frame

Will pull apart allowing one to slip in and thereby

Entering an upside down town takes adjusting quick

But the enchantment is such you'll be glad you came

In fact it will be hard for you to think of saying good-bye

It's so calming beneath the surface in the town with no name

It's like Atlantis - a place to visit - a place beyond the flame

Samuel Peralta's in charge at dVerse tonight and well worth the visit just for the plethora of info on sonnets and variations on the form (only one of which I've tried to follow with the Trireme sonnet) - he also details some words on ekphrastic poetry, one of my favourite forms and gives a great example using one of his own poems from a new project he's collaborating on...hop on over to dVerse and check it out.

LEONARD COHEN CAME HERE (after Alexandra Leaving)

Unexpectedly the prince of poetry came here

It was as if by wishing it, I had made it so

On stage a seeming apparition, the man he did appear

Replete with all his words, and his beautiful old soul

He stood in spot lit adoration and sang each song

With perfect modest tone and mild aplomb

Was glorious beyond my wildest hopes, all night long

Wrapped us all in warmth and held each one of us in his palm

It was not magic, it was not imagination, it was real

I knew I'd wake the next morning still floating on the sound

It felt as if every time he looked up, each note was just for me to feel

Each song selection picked with me in mind, how easily I was found

And even though I'm sure the rest of the audience thought

That he was singing for them and them alone

I didn't care, let them have their foolishness, if sought

I knew for whom he was there singing; for me, let it go unknown

As shocked as I was that he actually came here

I almost forgot to relax and take the wondrousness of him in

He pours his soul, his heart and all his being into every piece

It was like receiving communion without committing original sin

And spending such a sacred time within that space

Bathed completely by words and sound and spirit of a kind

When on stage, the seeming apparition, the prince of poetry

He played to all of us with inexhaustible verve and brilliance of mind

And even though I'm sure the rest of the audience thought

That he was singing for them and them alone

I didn't care, let them have their foolishness, if sought

I knew for whom he was there singing; for me, let it go unknown

As shocked as I was that he actually came here

I almost forgot to relax and take the wondrousness of him in

He pours his soul, his heart and all his being into every piece

It was like receiving communion without committing original sin

To anyone who is mystified by my adulation

There are no words of mine to justify it more than these

I am in awe and I guess I always will be

Leonard Cohen came here, if you please

Oh yeah - I am in awe and I guess I always will be

My hero Leonard Cohen came here, yes he did, if you please

 (written the day after seeing L.Cohen in concert Nov.19,2012)

                                                                      

JUDGE NOT

In open court, the rancor

Rose like a plume

Bathing all present

With the vitriolic terms

Being tossed liked poisoned darts

Between the plaintiffs

More than once, the judge's gavel

Slammed as his face turned coral

And he demanded order

Called for some civility

Mopped his brow dry

Before scrunching his hankie

Into a ball, shaking his head

Thankfully, incidents as bad as this

Were rare, he thought

Trying to follow the thread

Of the arguments

Wishing he could duck

Below the lectern

to where his open bottle

Of single malt scotch lay

Wondered vaguely how much

Of his term on the bench

Was left ...