The Homeless Wank Board of Mirroring
Deep in the night's curling cargo, something long-buried surfaces again. Perhaps just a memory of a glance she was known to me by, perhaps a way of knowing that was ours and ours alone. These treasures were buried purposefully, some with rage, with bitterness on top, some with the tenderest of care, like tucking her image into bed, my little girl. I still love you, of course you know that.
But who am I, homeless in all these rooms? Who can be a man without a family. That is no man, not as my father was a man. There is something immature about perpetual bachelorhood, extending long past a certain ripening point of selfhood. Unfulfilled and ever-selfish Peter Pan syndrome-ees, indulging in individualism well past its sell by date. Stale 30-somethings still spinning their wheels, wanking at pretentious art and posturing. Is this work? The new work? If so, must they be so indifferent about it??
Wanking at pretentious degrees and academic accolades, how about that? There you go, lets cut this tirade in a little closer to the mark! The long days spent sheltered beneath excuses like "I'm a full time student." Wallowing in the time spent hidden there, enclosed in that lazy track towards grave indebtedness. At least her new wanker boyfriend has something to show for his masturbation, some splooge on a canvas. I have no such splooge and, even if he came out of it without a cent to his name, he remains a richer man than me, by (my) default.
Insecurity is in everyone who lashes out, defending against some threat, perhaps real, perhaps imagined. How can I become non-threatening to even the most defensive, hypervigilant person I meet? Silence is as threatening as bragging, sometimes. Words put us at ease, but which words? Softly speaking my words, alone, does not curb their offensiveness if they are challenging ideas, for instance, or carry what will become cognitive dissonance for the listener. No, some of the most truly terrifying things are said with a whisper, in that intimacy and closeness. Yet, that terror is OF that intimacy, of the closeness of danger to our bare neck. What words can use that intimate tone effectively, to calm and create empathy and deeper connection?
Reflection, Carl Rogers would say, is the most reassuring thing to hear -- simple confirmation of being heard, like a mirror of one's thoughts, allowing a useful perspective on self. It would behoove me to learn this skill, this sounding board function, and how to use it to build rapport with the people I meet.
But who am I, homeless in all these rooms? Who can be a man without a family. That is no man, not as my father was a man. There is something immature about perpetual bachelorhood, extending long past a certain ripening point of selfhood. Unfulfilled and ever-selfish Peter Pan syndrome-ees, indulging in individualism well past its sell by date. Stale 30-somethings still spinning their wheels, wanking at pretentious art and posturing. Is this work? The new work? If so, must they be so indifferent about it??
Wanking at pretentious degrees and academic accolades, how about that? There you go, lets cut this tirade in a little closer to the mark! The long days spent sheltered beneath excuses like "I'm a full time student." Wallowing in the time spent hidden there, enclosed in that lazy track towards grave indebtedness. At least her new wanker boyfriend has something to show for his masturbation, some splooge on a canvas. I have no such splooge and, even if he came out of it without a cent to his name, he remains a richer man than me, by (my) default.
Insecurity is in everyone who lashes out, defending against some threat, perhaps real, perhaps imagined. How can I become non-threatening to even the most defensive, hypervigilant person I meet? Silence is as threatening as bragging, sometimes. Words put us at ease, but which words? Softly speaking my words, alone, does not curb their offensiveness if they are challenging ideas, for instance, or carry what will become cognitive dissonance for the listener. No, some of the most truly terrifying things are said with a whisper, in that intimacy and closeness. Yet, that terror is OF that intimacy, of the closeness of danger to our bare neck. What words can use that intimate tone effectively, to calm and create empathy and deeper connection?
Reflection, Carl Rogers would say, is the most reassuring thing to hear -- simple confirmation of being heard, like a mirror of one's thoughts, allowing a useful perspective on self. It would behoove me to learn this skill, this sounding board function, and how to use it to build rapport with the people I meet.