Special Edition: Maya Angelou R.I.P.

special edition day any
Maya Angelou R.I.P.

Special Edition

Post Created by Jennifer Kiley

Post Wednesday 28th May 2014

 

Poet, author Maya Angelou dies at 86

maya angelou insightful

Hillel Italie
May 28, 2014
Filed 03:59 PM EST

NEW YORK (AP) — Maya Angelou, a modern Renaissance woman who survived the harshest of childhoods to become a force on stage, screen, the printed page and the inaugural dais, died Wednesday, her son said. She was 86.

Angelou’s son, Guy B. Johnson, said the writer died at her home in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, where she had been a professor of American studies at Wake Forest University since 1982.

Tall and regal, with a deep, majestic voice, Angelou defied all probability and category, becoming one of the first black women to enjoy mainstream success as an author and thriving in virtually every artistic medium. The young single mother who worked at strip clubs to earn a living later wrote and recited the most popular presidential inaugural poem in history. The childhood victim of rape wrote a million-selling memoir, befriended Malcolm X, Nelson Mandela and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., and performed on stages around the world.

An actress, singer and dancer in the 1950s and 1960s, she broke through as an author in 1969 with “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” which became standard (and occasionally censored) reading, and was the first of a multipart autobiography that continued through the decades. In 1993, she was a sensation reading her cautiously hopeful “On the Pulse of the Morning” at President Bill Clinton’s first inauguration. Her confident performance openly delighted Clinton and made the poem a best-seller, if not a critical favorite.

FOR COMPLETE ARTICLE GO TO THIS LINK ON HUFFPOST

The Following Video is Maya Angelou speaking for herself.

Here, I Give You, Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou [Director's Cut] – Cole Haan

The Wednesday Poetry Corner with Dr. Mary Annie AV

the secret keeper:

“Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there – I do not sleep. I am the thousand winds that blow…” Mary Frye [1932] One of my favorite poems. Dr. Mary Annie A.V. did a lovely & meaningful presentation on death & life. Meeting the end of one and entering the beginning another. Which is which? It is the ultimate Question. Tagore states in this post “…When one dies one lives.” I wonder myself if this is true. We all know death is in front of our time here. No one is ever really told when, even if one is gravely ill, the time is not given to us in an exact moment. Some say they feel it approaching. It is a grand philosophical question, poets, artists, writers, songs, express death, love, life, probably the most popular content of most art, these three subjects, but death is the one that haunts us the most. Reading this post has opened my mind to thinking about it in a poetic & philosophical way. It is something feared & expected & needs someday to be faced, in some manner or maybe not for some people. Is it better to be surprised or to be the poet and examine it through divine words of comfort & see it as an uplifting end to pain & a beginning of life as we all are meant to experience it fully. Great post. Love that you brought Mary Annie A.V. to us Niamh Clune. She has a very unique way of expressing such a delicate subject to many. Her choices in poetry and poets are so familiar to me. I feel all will enjoy & find a comfort in reading all that she has offered to us. by Jk the secret keeper Jennifer Kiley ps. Two poets I didn’t mention that Mary Annie A.V. writes about are Emily Dickinson and Sylvia Plath, who, also, write about death. “Dying / Is an art, / like everything else. / I do it exceptionally well. / I do it so it feels like hell. / I do it so it feels real. / I guess you could say I’ve a call./

Originally posted on Plum Tree Books Blog:

It is with great pleasure that I introduce a wonderful new Indian voice to our Wednesday Corner. Dr. Mary Annie A.V. writes with depth and passion about the subject of Death ~ a subject that has long-fascinated poets and philosophers throughout history. Thank you Mary for being our guest on the plum tree today and for sharing your profound thoughts on a subject that is often not spoken of.

Speculating…

By Mary Annie A.V.

My earliest memories are those of reciting Mother Goose’s Nursery rhymes, which perhaps influenced me to write my first prize winning poem ‘My brother’, at the age of five. However, I guess it is in the Psalms of the Bible that I by-hearted, that I found my sense of language, rhythm and the sheer magic of words. I have always been fascinated by life, death and eternity. The mystery of life and death and eternity makes…

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Favorite Top Ten Sylvia Plath Quotes

Favorite Top Ten Sylvia Plath Quotes
Written by Sylvia Plath
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Illustrated by j. kiley
Post Created on Sunday 18th August 2013
Posted On Sunday 25th August 2013
A Writer’s Word

Fertility --- Artist Allen  3264x2397

Fertility — Artist Allen

Quote #10

“I write only because
There is a voice within me
That will not be still.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #9

“Is there no way out
of the mind?”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #8

“The worst enemy to creativity
is self-doubt.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #7

“I shut my eyes
and all the world drops dead;
I lift my eyes
and all is born again.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #6

“I talk to God
but the sky is empty.”

— Sylvia Plath

Pollock 32   733x432

Pollock 32

Quote #5

“Perhaps when we find ourselves
wanting everything,
it is because we are dangerously close
to wanting nothing.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #4

“I lean to you,
numb as a fossil.
Tell me I’m here.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #3

“With me, the present is forever,
and forever is always shifting,
flowing, melting.
This second is life.
And when it is gone it is dead.
But you can’t start over
with each new second.
You have to judge by what is dead.
It’s like quicksand…
hopeless from the start.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #2

“When at last you find someone
to whom you feel you can pour out your soul,
you stop in shock at the words you utter —
they are so rusty, so ugly,
so meaningless and feeble
from being kept
in the small cramped dark
inside you so long.”

— Sylvia Plath

Quote #1

“I must be lean & write
& make worlds beside this
to live in.”

— Sylvia Plath

Pollock 1 1949   864x529

Pollock 1 1949

New Poetry Release: SEVEN DAYS OF ASHES ~Hymns to the Holocaust by Alan Patrick Traynor

the secret keeper:

Alan Patrick Traynor wrote a brilliant selection of poems in his new book Seven Days of Ashes. These are times to never forget ever. Alan Patrick takes you their by bravely visiting the past himself, experiencing the excruciation pain of the holocaust. Blood for ink, he etched on paper the words you will want to read and absorb into your own soul. Never must the message he brings through his words, ever be forgotten. Alan Patrick brings the truth to your minds, traveling back along the lines of his poems to places locked in its place, cemented in times always needing to be remembered. The memories are carried in his words so truthfully and feelingly. You will never be the same after you visit the past through the rawness of his words as he reveals the truth through his eyes. Jk the secret keeper

Originally posted on After Nyne:

Screen Shot 2013-08-09 at 14.15.11

SEVEN DAYS OF ASHES ~Hymns to the Holocaust is the latest collection from Irish poet Alan Patrick Traynor.

Traynor has travelled immensely throughout Europe and the United States for a good half of his life, and has gathered some extraordinary skills in how he breaks into the stark meter of suffering, with a music that will haunt his words and wounds deep into your deepest heart.

‘The book was initially inspired by watching a short video documentary about the Holocaust artist Felix Nussbaum, and then began a life of its own, that gave birth to a horrific poetic viewpoint like a timeless lens into the spirit of the Holocaust.  To me, it’s as if the poems were written from an eye-witness account from the dead victims’ says Traynor, deeply affected by his subject.

The seven poems are deep veridicous spears from the soul of the poet, and are…

View original 252 more words

Allen Ginsberg: Poet Buddhist Howl

tell me a story
Allen Ginsberg:Poet Buddhist Howl
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Interview Face to Face BBC 1995
Quotes In Broken Form by Jennifer Kiley
Created 4th August 2013
Posted Thursday 8th August 2013
TELL ME A STORY

Allen Ginsberg interviewed by Jeremy Isaacs in 1995 for the BBC

1995 – Face to Face with Jeremy Isaacs: An Interview with Allen Ginsberg Part One

1995 – Face to Face with Jeremy Isaacs: An Interview with Allen Ginsberg Part Two

1995 – Face to Face with Jeremy Isaacs: An Interview with Allen Ginsberg Part Three

Listening to Allen Ginsberg was a Transcendental Experience of Heightened Awareness.

Allen Ginsberg: An Honest Interview Filled with Insightful Stories. An Inspiring Talk. Finishing With the Most Moving Lyrical Poem Written by Allen’s Father and in This Interview Set to Music. Allen Sings ‘Father Death Blues’ to Close Out the Interview. I Listened to the Song Until I Was Able to Completely Write Down All the Lyrics. It Is Amazing and to Hear Allen Ginsberg Sing It Blows Me Away and I Think It Will Do the Same for Anyone with Soul and Heart. The Whole Interview Is Worth the Time It Takes to Listen. Enlightenment Is One Possible Reward.

“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness…starving, mystical naked…too sentimental…changed it to starving hysterical…naked. “
— Allen Ginsberg

Howl, was it an angry poem?
“A gesture of sympathy for a friend in trouble…full devouring God…angry…anguish…ultimate accusation is the mind…the all devouring God…our own mind.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Candor in poetry.
“I very consciously follow my mentor, Walt Whitman. Early version of Leaves of Grass…he hoped Americans would develop into a condition of more candid…Manipulative frankness…he was candid about his emotions…he wasn’t candid about his physical relationships…there was a lineage where someone had slept with Walt Whitman…so there is a lineage of gossip…he couldn’t proclaim his physical love but certainly their was an expression of his emotional love.”
— Allen Ginsberg

“Walt Whitman wasn’t able to proclaim his physical love in his poetry.”
— Allen Ginsberg

He was convinced a lobotomy was necessary. So he signed the papers.
“I signed for my mother’s lobotomy…I felt tremendous guilt…Had to deal with her irrationality…Difficult to get to love…Longing for feminine bliss at the same fear of it…and so I am gay in a sense.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Mother in sane episodes.
“She claimed to be the secretary of Patterson, N.J communist party itself…Great strikes with John Reed in 1918…Has a great labor history.”
— Allen Ginsberg

“Hoover, who was a closet gay, destroyed the labor unions in America because they were originally formed by left wing pinkos to form a left in America…The mafia moved into the vacuum and were protected by Hoover. So there is no left in America, only the right and the middle.”
— Allen Ginsberg

“Had something like a visionary experience or an hallucination…the endlessness of the skies…50 year ago Italian workman made all the scroll work on the architecture of New York…Buddhism…what was real or not real…ended up arrested…choice of going to jail or the mad houses…it was a situation where I was alone…had an affair with Neal Cassidy…William Burroughs was a close friend for many years but wasn’t around…read others and read Blake…sick rose…sunflower…hearing Blake’s voice outside of his own body…reciting…latent projection…ah, sunflower weary of time…seeking after that great golden climb…aspire where my sunflower wishes to grow…the heavens were endless…or the sky was endless, I would say.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Did that help you become a poet? You used drugs after that to try to recapture that experience.
“I used dried leaves…It wasn’t natural…At the time I was eating vegetables. I wasn’t eating meat…Leading a solitary life…Freedom is another word for nothing more to lose…My heart was open in a sense at the time.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Drugs…Does it permanently help you to perceive an expanded universe?
“An ordinary mind that the universe is endless…awaken you to an ordinary mind…the psychedelic experience…Peyote…natural mushroom…a panoramic awareness…the natural experience…can be catalized by the psychedelic experience…but would recommend that people learn a meditative experience…following your breath…notice when your mind wanders…do it every day…since 1970…8 hours for weeks at a time…now I use other styles…quieting the mind…I tried something called ecstasy…I was remembering an old enemy…his transformation that I had someone to define my limits…psychedelics…how they were able to apply them in ordinary mind.”
— Allen Ginsberg

“My father was a lyric poet…I learned it at his knee…learned rhyme…he wrote a poem ‘father death blues’ I read it at his funeral…a caddish…met my mother later 1983 on as a bag lady where I had a chance to take care of her which I didn’t when she was alive…they were both agnostics [parents]…there is some problem with an absolute hierarchical…Jewishness passed by…”

— Allen Ginsberg

Are you a writer or a performer…best read on the page or read out loud?
“Vernacular communication…I am primarily a writer…there is a dimension of sound…It is possible to vocalize to have my poems understood more rapidly…I am not a performer…”
— Allen Ginsberg

Has your writing has a political effect?
“Talked to Dylan. He knew he had power but knew it was miniscule compared to the small number who own the mass media? It would be very difficult for a poet to overcome that kind of power…but if you need the historical truth of what people think inside…the poet tells the unsubjective truth…the government is of words…they are writing prose…their language is shifty…the poet can say what they really think.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Who is the love of your life?
“A number of people…I use to have one a day…had someone I loved for 40 years…I was in love with Kerouac…Neal Cassidy…with whom I had a funny affair that lasted over 20 years..any fantasy I had as an adolescent.”

— Allen Ginsberg

As you get older what do you most fear?
“Cancer…pain…I have a short one line poem ‘Get use to your body. Forget you were born. Suddenly, you’ve got to get out.’ How to approach death…how to leave the body…”
— Allen Ginsberg

Both Dylan and Kerouac think you’re a con-man. What did they mean by that?
“The trickster in them…it’s in reference to the trickster hero…last time I saw Dylan he asked me about Blake…Jokes …Characteristic of them.”
— Allen Ginsberg

How would you like us to remember you?
“The poem ‘Father Death Blues’…please let him go…continue your celebration…[singing---fruition of his Buddhist training] hey father death I’m flying home…hey poor man you’re all alone…hey old daddy I know where I’m going…father death don’t cry anymore…momma’s there underneath the floor…brother death please mind the store…old auntie death I hear your groans…old uncle death I see your bones…oh sister death how sweet your moans…oh children deaths go breathe your breaths… sobbing breaths so ease your deaths…pain is gone tears ate the rest…genius death your heart is done…lover death your body’s gone…father death I’m coming home…guru death your words are true…teacher death I do thank you for inspiring me to sing this blues…Buddha death I wake with you…Dharma death your mind is new…song of death we’ll work it through…suffering is what was born…ignorance made me forlorn…tearful truths I cannot scorn…father’s breath once more farewell…birth you gave was no faint pill…my heart is still as time will tell.”
— Allen Ginsberg

Random Transcription—so much more in interview… by Jennifer Kiley

No Face No Fingers

No Face No Fingers
Post Created by Jennifer Kiley
Post Created Tuesday 23rd July 2013
Poem by Alan Patrick Traynor
Sunday 28th July 2013
A WRITER’S WORD

seven days of ashes book cover 1

Plum Tree Books is proud to announce the publication of

Alan Patrick Traynor’s first book of poetry.
Seven Days Of Ashes
Hymns to the Holocaust

Alan writes clouds, ether, fire and death. You will smell his words. He sets the page alight, breaking the rules. He is the new voice of poetry! …”Is Alan a mystic who speaks for the dead? He gives shape, immediacy and a new meaning to a reality that still haunts us collectively…” — Niamh Clune

— Niamh Clune, CEO and Publisher of Plum Tree Books, blog: on the plum tree, poet, writer and all around Renaissance woman, author of Orange Petals in a Storm and The Coming of the Feminine Christ.

Alan Patrick, your poems are solemn and speak the poetic version of the truth. I have read the words you put to paper, this book is a masterpiece on the highest level. A challenging and diverse group of so many people to represent. I do believe you have met this calling in direct and honest words with poetic revelation and justice.

The Nazis perpetrated this horror. It is a sickening feeling to think or even imagine being in those situations of death.

I am so moved by your words-both of you, Niamh Clune as the publisher who had the foresight to present the rebel and genius of the poet Alan Patrick Traynor. Congratulations to you and Niamh Clune with hopes of success and wishes that you reach many with your words of truth. — By Jennifer Kiley

burning violin 1

The following poem THE FLAG THAT KNOWS NO DREAM by Alan Patrick Traynor is not part of the collection, but it resonates. Jk

the flag that knows no dream (c) alan patrick traynor

dragonfly expressionism 1

Escher Bond On Union

Escher Bond On Union

'NIGHT' ElieWiesel 1

Holocaust — A Deception of Truth

Sylvia Plath: The Spoken Word

tell me a story
Sylvia Plath: The Spoken Word
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Created 22nd July 2013
Posted Thursday 25th July 2013
TELL ME A STORY

Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes speaking with the BBC 1961

sylvia-plath-2

“I think I was happy up to the age of about nine — very carefree — and I believed in magic, which influenced me a great bit. And then, at nine, I was rather disillusioned — I stopped believing in elves and Santa Claus and all these little beneficent powers — and became more realistic and depressed, I think, and then, gradually, became a bit more adjusted about the age of sixteen or seventeen. But I certainly didn’t have a happy adolescence — and, perhaps, that’s partly why I turned specially to writing — I wrote diaries, stories, and so forth. I was quite introverted during those early years.” — Sylvia Plath

A Meditation on Psychic Creativity between Two Souls Connecting by Ted Hughes about Sylvia Plath and their communications. I am not particularly a fan of Hughs but what he says is quite lovely and something of which I believe. Shawn and I share a certain telepathy when I am calm, we click into place and ideas develop between in a flowing collaboration. Jk the secret keeper

“What she writes out needn’t be at all the contents of her own mind — it needn’t be anything she knows — but it’s something that somebody in the room knows, or somebody that she’s very close to knows. And, in this way, two people who are sympathetic to each other and who are right, who are compatible in this sort of spiritual way, in fact make up one person — they make up one source of power, which you both use and you can draw out material in incredible detail from the single shared mind. … It’s not that you choose the same things to write about, necessarily, and you certainly don’t write about them in the same way — it’s that you draw on an experience, it’s as though you knew more about something than you, from your own life, have ever really learned.

It’s a complicated idea to get across, because you’ve first of all to believe in this sort of telepathic union exists between two sympathetic people.”

sylvia-plath-1

Sylvia Plath Reading her poem Tulip

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in.
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.

They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage —
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free —
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle : they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.

By Sylvia Plath

healing thoughts people of world

Myths of Fixed Personalities: Violent Rebellion Part 1

a divider for post no. 5 love fav new one

Myths of Fixed Personalities
Violent Rebellion Part 1
Against the Myths of Fixed Personality
Written by Anais Nin in 4 Parts
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Created Friday 12th July 2013
Illustrated by j. Kiley
Posted on Sunday 14th July 2013
A WRITER’S WORDS SUNDAY

myths of fixed personalities by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

Remember-Remember V for Vendetta Soundtrack — Dario Marianelli

QUOTATION on REBELLION:

“…it’s just another one of those things I don’t understand: everyone impresses upon you how unique you are, encouraging you to cultivate your individuality while at the same time trying to squish you and everyone else into the same ridiculous mould. It’s an artist’s right to rebel against the world’s stupidity.” ― E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly

a divider for post no. 5 love fav new one

In Her Own Words

tell me a story
In Her Own Words
TALK: Adrienne Rich
Notations by Jennifer Kiley
Created 8th July 2013
Posted Thursday 11th July 2013
TELL ME A STORY

Portrait-of-Adrienne-Rich-

Portrait of Adrienne Rich

 

Adrienne Rich: In Her Own Words

“One of the great functions of art is to help us imagine what it is like to be not ourselves, what it is like to be someone or something else, what it is like to live in another skin, what it is like to live in another body, and in that sense to surpass ourselves, to go out beyond ourselves.”

Adrienne Rich: On Art

adrienne rich

Adrienne Rich

“Behind all art is an element of desire. … Love of life, of existence, love of another human being, love of human beings is in some way behind all art — even the most angry, even the darkest, even the most grief-stricken, and even the most embittered art has that element somewhere behind it. Because how could you be so despairing, so embittered, if you had not had something you loved that you lost?”

Adrienne Rich: On Love and Loss

Adrienne rich atlas of a difficult world

Adrienne Rich Atlas of a Difficult World

“The question always is there, ‘What kind of a privilege is it just to be able to feel purely and simply happy?’ But we can, and in spite of so much — and in spite of so much knowledge. And, for me, there’s always this issue of private and public happiness.”

Adrienne Rich: On Public vs Private Happiness

adrienne rich by tree with row of trees behind her

Adrienne Rich

“A poem can come out of something seen, something overheard, listening to music, an article in a newspaper, a book, a combination of all these… There’s a kind of emotional release that I then find in the act of writing the poem. It’s not, ‘I’m now going to sit down and write a poem about this.’”

Adrienne Rich: Creative Process

adrienne rich closeup

Adrienne Rich

“No one’s fated or doomed to love anyone.
The accidents happen, we’re not heroines,
they happen in our lives like car crashes,
books that change us, neighborhoods
we move into and come to love.
Tristan und Isolde is scarcely the story,
women at least should know the difference
between love and death. No poison cup,
no penance. Merely a notion that the tape-recorder
should have caught some ghost of us: that tape-recorder
not merely played but should have listened to us,
and could instruct those after us:
this we were, this is how we tried to love,
and these are the forces they had ranged against us,
and these are the forces we had ranged within us,
within us and against us, against us and within us.”

Adrienne Rich: Reads From Twenty One Love Poems

Adrienne Rich AP report of death

Adrienne Rich AP Report of Death

Adreinne Rich [May 16, 1929 – March 27, 2012

Soundcloud Recordings Shared from Brainpickings

Healing thoughts for the people of the World

The Secret Keeper Opened Up Two Years Ago

The Secret Keeper Opened Up Two Years Ago
WordPress Sent Me A Notification Moments Ago
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Created & Posted 05.06.13

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
Was Posted On May 6th 2011

moon watching over all --- artist unknown 5.6.13 it was two years ago today

moon watching over all — artist unknown 5.6.13 it was two years ago today

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
by jen kiley “the secret keeper”
Posted May 6th 2011

This is an excerpt from a manuscript that I started writing while I was seeing M. who I felt was the best psychotherapist I ever worked with. She is my inspiration and muse. The stages that it is in now are more like a patchwork quilt of writings from notebooks and poems and letters and emails and role playing screenplays that I have written and continue to write everyday. I choose this blog site as a place where I can be open and honest with my thoughts and feelings and be the real person that I am in all the multiple facets of my psyche. I am hoping I will be able to post open and honest writings that help me develop and release what has and is happening in my life. Truth is what I am seeking and the revealing of secrets and recalling of memories are only some of what I want to express here on this blog. Hopefully, it will not all be serious. My new therapist wants me to laugh more and encourages me to watch shows and films that do just that, make me laugh. Modern Family and The Big Bang Theory are the best shows at creating that overwhelming feeling in me to feel hysterically silly and to laugh so hard I can barely catch my breath. I leave you to read what I am sharing. Be kind. I am new to this kind of truthful exposure.

9.20.10 – 2:15 am – monday

Reality…love…animals first…people…therapist before other people but S.O… my bird… my main kitties…fur…petting…loving…trusting…wanting love…wanting attention… petting…my bird sharing my meals…nothing better than that…sharing my juice… climbing all over me…getting up on my hand…sitting and resting on my shoulders or stomach for hours…nothing like it…sleeping with me while I write or work on the computer…hanging out together…my little buddy…my bird…my beautiful multi-colored protector…the most wonderful creature in the whole world…I feel that way about her …and I feel special ways about my special kitties too…snuggling with them…sleeping with them at night or when they sleep in my lap or draped over my arms in my chair …I love the feeling…I live for the moments…I live for those moments when M. smiles at me and tells me I am a good person and that I did good… when we looked into each others eyes when she was trying to get me to reach the child inside me…we both tried to get me there but it is a long distance inside to that place…

<3 Love <3

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
But if your love and must needs have desires,
Let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook
That sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
And give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer
For the beloved in your heart
And a song of praise upon your lips.
~ by Kahlil Gibran ~

Mozart – Lacrimosa

the 9th – the day I found out that M. was leaving, no longer to be my therapist. I found out later during our last session we would not be able to have any contact at all with each other for two years.

I dedicate the first post on “all is one” to M. (It didn’t take me long to change her name to “the secret keeper” and she is all mine to do with what I feel she needs to do.) She taught me that we are all connected no matter where we are in our lives. She is gone now – left abruptly from my life. It has caused me a great deal of pain and continues to do so. I love this woman more than can ever be expressed in words. Even Kahlil Gibran only comes slightly close to how I feel. We did some intense work together unearthing some of the memories of the abuse from my childhood and we tried to confront the issues that I am going through today. I am now seeing a new therapist that M. chose for me. She is quite good but I miss M. terribly and my psychological issues are only compounded by the loss of her in my life and in our therapeutic relationship. I stay connected to her through my writing. She continues to be my inspiration and my muse and I write to her in my notebooks to enter into my manuscript everyday and every night. She is there with me in those moments. It was because of her that I returned to my writing and she also brought me back to my roots in meditation. When she left I pulled back from meditating and certain music because it strongly reminded me of her and the level of pain and depression and suicidal thoughts I had were too difficult to experience in all of their intensity. She abandoned me. I miss her hugs; her voice; the way her eyes looked into mine; her gentleness; her understanding; her peacefulness and calmness and most of all her love. She is connected to my soul. I will love her always and forever.

This is just the beginning of writing here. If someone passes through and should happen to read any of what I have written I will tell you that there will be more and the depth I intend to fathom shall hopefully be expressive, thoughtful and revealing in honesty.

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candle flame flickering gif

I add to what I wrote over two years ago, that I feel that I have followed the path that I stated back then and try to bring honesty and feelings to what is post on “the secret keeper.” I, also, try to have fun when there is a need for that. There is always a need to laugh and to cry. The first is laughing and I do that as often as possible. The second, crying, I still haven’t found the door that allows me to open it and the tears to be released. Only when something traumatizing occurs do I lose control of what holds back the tears. The Shadow Mother, the name I give my birth mother who is gone now, is the one who put my child in that prison many years ago when I was a defenseless child. I couldn’t fight her. Instead I would apologize to her and beg her forgiveness for punishing me. She forced that child to go to the deepest darkest dungeon inside my unconscious where there is no light for her to find her way out.

Those who have experienced or are experiencing brutality, remember and remind yourself that you didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of horrendous treatment. You need healing with the right person or people. I have been fortunate to have met different people in my life that have tried to help me. I feel, though, that I am very close to people in my life who are giving me a great deal of help with their love and support. It helps when you are surrounded by love and understanding. Love is so very important in everyone’s life. I feel that in my life now.

Writing “the secret keeper” has expanded my world and I feel so lucky to have met the people who I found through this world. One could say it is a very magical and mystical world where the unknown and impossible is knowable and possible.

I wondered why my muse wanted to watch movie trailers. She was stalling me until the announcement came through from WordPress, otherwise, I would never have realized the two year anniversary. I suppose I should send out a thank-you to “M” for leading me into the world of blogging. Honestly, I had another blog that I did for a short time. It was the oddest thing. I found myself on WordPress. I do not even remember why and the next thing I knew I had signed up to write a blog. My reaction: “I DID WHAT?” I was wondering what was I thinking about when I did that. I don’t know anything about writing a blog. I let it sit. Then one day I started to write. I wasn’t really myself when I was doing that blog so I gradually diminished its place in my life and that is when I realized I needed to create what eventually became “the secret keeper” but once was called “all is one” — that was named that for my meditative self but not who really needed this blog to be hers. I needed the healer and the to be healed to be what this blog was for and about. “the secret keeper” is for those who have secrets they need to reveal or for those who need a place to open up and have their secrets kept just that “secret.” Some secrets need to be shouted out loud and others need to be shared in a quiet way. The “evil” doers need to be exposed, those in pain need to know they are not alone.

I want to be able to write about any content that needs to be discussed. Hopefully, I have been doing that over the past two years, more being in the last year plus several months. I have made a commitment to myself to post something everyday. So far I have been doing that for awhile now. Doing a post a day has been good for me. It keeps my mind focused and for those who follow me and that I follow, it has been an experience to keep connected with all of you.

I keep growing and learning something all the time. One, that there is not enough time in one day for everything, but you try to fit it all in but find it exhausting and close to impossible but I am not saying it isn’t attempted. We are still learning about that one.

Did my muse or I find anything interesting in the movie trailers? Well, there is a movie with Robert De Niro, Diane Keaton and Susan Sarandon are in that is out now. The Big Wedding and I remember seeing Tom Cruise in one that is rather spooky and takes place in the future. No humans left on Earth as far as I can tell. Oblivion. Then some scary, creepy crap in between. The devil wants a baby. Probably Zombies. I wasn’t playing close attention. In fact, think I was eating cereal at the time. Put “The Big Wedding” trailer on again and it looks funny. Well, the trailer makes me laugh. Oh, the next trailer I do remember now. The movie titled: MUD has feeling of STAND BY ME but more law involved. Stars Matthew McConaughey & Reese Witherspoon and two great kid actors. Roku has some of the wildest choices of channels.

Thank you all for following and hope you find something here that you want to read, listen to, like, or have a comment you’d like to make, or just follow in your own quiet way. Anyway that you like, you are welcome. by Jennifer Kiley j.kiley jk the secret keeper jk the SK
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first star on the right --- abstract digital art

first star on the right — abstract digital art


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Metallica — Nothing Else Matters
(One of Several Videos I Posted In My First Month as “the secret keeper” Two Years Ago)
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QUOTATIONS on PAST:

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” ― Søren Kierkegaard

“You realize that our mistrust of the future makes it hard to give up the past.” ― Chuck Palahniuk, Survivor

“The past is never where you think you left it.” ― Katherine Anne Porter

“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.” ― Mother Teresa

“When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

“It’s being here now that’s important. There’s no past and there’s no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can’t relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don’t know if there is one.” ― George Harrison
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