Tag Archives: pain

Whitney Houston—A Year Gone 02.11.2012

Whitney Houston—A Year Gone 02.11.2012
A True, Long & Meaningful Tribute
If You Love Whitney You’ll Make It Through…
Post Created by Jennifer Kiley
Segments In Five Parts…
Whitney Deserves More…
Post Created Over Many Days
Posted 02.05.13

First Part:

*Whitney Elizabeth Houston, 1963-2012*
February 12, 2012 (Day after Whitney’s Death)
Esquire Magazine
By Robyn Crawford

A look back at the star from one of her closest friends

whitney-houston 1963—2012 David Corio-Michael Ochs Archives-Getty

I met her when she was 16. It was at a summer job. I was working at a community center in East Orange, New Jersey, and she was working just like the rest of us. She was there to work. She introduced herself as “Whitney Elizabeth Houston,” and I knew right away she was special. Not a lot of people introduced themselves with their middle names back then. She had peachy colored skin and she didn’t look like anyone I’d ever met in East Orange, New Jersey.

whitney-most-awarded-female-of-all-time

She was nothing like the Whitney Houston she became but at the same time she was already there. She knew, and so did everyone around her. She was doing shows in Manhattan with her mother, and she’d change her clothes in the car and get on stage and do her thing. She hadn’t signed her contract yet. But she was modeling for Wilhelmina because she was discovered on the street. She was walking in front of Carnegie Hall and someone walked up to her and said, “There’s a modeling agency upstairs that’s looking for someone just like you.” She walked upstairs and they signed her. That’s what it was like, that’s what she gave off. She looked like an angel. When my mother first met her, she laughed and said, “You look like an angel, but I know you’re not.” And she wasn’t. But she looked like one.

Whitney-Houston-peace symbol

She chose the life she lived, and she chose it from the beginning. She knew the life better than anyone. Her mother was Cissy Houston, and she had been on the road with Dionne Warwick. She got her chops singing in church, and her mother said to her, “You know, you can always sing for free. You can always sing in church. You don’t have to choose the professional life.” But she chose because she’d been chosen. Some people sing just because. She was never like that. She had to put on her gear. She knew it was going to be a job and that’s how she treated it. Once she committed to something, she finished it. Not long after I met her, she said, “Stick with me, and I’ll take you around the world.” She always knew where she was headed.

whitney_houston2

And we went around the world. I was her assistant and then her executive assistant and then her creative director. I was her point person for the day-to-day. I traveled all around the world first-class and anyone who ever worked for her will tell you her checks never bounced. You knew she was going to take care of you. She wasn’t going to be in a five-star hotel while you were in a two. I flew the Concorde the way some people ride the bus. She shared the fruits, and she changed a lot of lives. The record company, the band members, her family, her friends, me — she fed everybody. Deep down inside that’s what made her tired.

whitney_houston smiling

It was never easy. She never left anything undone. But it was hard. The Bodyguard was great when it was done, but it was a lot of work. She did the movie, she did the music, she did everything — and when she was done, she was done. She nailed it. The music supervisor brought her Linda Ronstadt’s version of “I Will Always Love You” way before Kevin Costner brought Dolly Parton’s version — and she always knew what she could do with it. So when Kevin came in and played it for her and told her he wanted her to sing it for the movie, she said, “Fine.” She wasn’t much for showing off what she had, except when she had to.

whitney

I always compare her performance of that song with a great athlete hitting his peak — with Michael Jordan in the playoffs. It was the absolute pinnacle of what she could do, of what anyone could do — and then she had to keep on doing it. Everybody wanted to hear her sing that song, and so she sang it. It didn’t matter whether she had a cold, or wasn’t in good voice; she had to deliver it, and she had it arranged so she could deliver every last note. And even if the note wasn’t there, the feeling was. A lot of her songs were like that. They were a lot to deliver, but she delivered them every note, every time.

Houston

It’s so strange that she died when she did. February was her month. Her first album was released on Valentine’s Day, right around the time of the Grammys, right around the time of Clive Davis’s party. It was an orchestrated thing. She was Clive’s girl, his great discovery. And she died right before Valentine’s Day, right before the Grammys, right before Clive’s party. Of course, she was going. I don’t know if she was singing, I don’t know what kind of pressure she was putting on herself. But she was going, that’s for damned sure.

whitney houston body guard

People thought they had to protect her. She hated that. And that’s what people don’t understand: She was always the one doing the driving. Someone just called and told me that the family kept Whitney from seeing her. Nobody kept Whitney from doing anything. She did what she wanted to do. When people left her or were told to leave, they could never believe that Whitney would never call them — but she never did. She was working hard to keep herself together, and I think she felt that if she admitted any feeling of sadness or weakness she would crumble. One time, back when we were young, we were out, we were partying, and I said, “Listen, I have to go. I’m tired. I can’t make it.” And she looked at me with her eyes wide and said, “I’ve got to make it.”

whitney by iohannes eisele-ap

And that was Whitney. She could not pick up the phone, and that meant it was too painful. I have never spoken about her until now. And she knew I wouldn’t. She was a loyal friend, and she knew I was never going to be disloyal to her. I was never going to betray her. Now I can’t believe that I’m never going to hug her or hear her laughter again. I loved her laughter, and that’s what I miss most, that’s what I miss already.

whitney by matt sayles-ap

I’m trying not to think of the end. I’m trying not to listen to all the reports. All these people talking about drugs — well, a lot of people take drugs, and they’re still around. Whitney isn’t, because you never know the way the wind blows. I just hope that she wasn’t in pain and that she hadn’t lost hope. She gave so much to so many people; I hope that she felt loved in return. She was the action, for such a long time. She’s out of the action now. I hope she can finally rest.

—as told to Tom Junod

Second Part:

whitney honouring david geffen clive davis pre grammy gala 2.13.11

Lets be realistic, Whitney was a gift from up above. She lived here on earth like the rest of us. Those that are given talent understand the misery Michael, Whitney, Amy and others suffer because with their gifts, they are always challenged with the same weaknesses of all humans. But they live in front of the world and its jealousies and strange needs for those up high to fall. Whitney was human and had the susceptibility to be drawn to the use of drugs to numb the pain. Look at the reaction of some people after Whitney died. They wanted to deny the governor of her home state from lowering the state flag the day of her funeral. They blamed her for her own death. Where is the kindness and understanding. She was undoubtedly in pain. Her voice wasn’t that crystal clear diamond, the way it was when she started out. Is a person not allowed to make the wrong decision. Didn’t her death pay in full. She didn’t owe anyone anything. But she gave us everything, including her life. Whitney was blessed with the most wonderful of gifts and she shared that gift with us all. She was blessed with it from the beginning. It is the same gift she took with her when her life came to an end. Regardless of how she made her exit. Peacefully or Tragically or Questionably, she is gone now but her music remains and will be listened to for as long as people are smart enough to listen and be in love with her. Her gift was specific to her. Her gift died when she died. It was hers while she was here and now that she is gone it is gone but still pays those who own it. No one will ever have that gift again. There was only one like that gift and it was given to Whitney Elizabeth Houston. NO ONE WILL EVER TAKE HER PLACE EVER!!! A truly special lady who was here with us for a very short time but what she gave us while she was here is amazing and we do get to keep that and listen to Whitney whenever we want. She is always going to be with us. And I Will Always Love You Whitney Elizabeth Houston. RIP. February 11th, 2012… jennifer Kiley jk the secret keeper

Third Part:

Songs Of Whitney’s That I Love the Most: (Whitney Sang Most About Love)
I Will Always Love You
Greatest Love of All
Try It On My Own
One Moment In Time
I Look To You
Queen of the Night
Run To You
All At Once
Hold Me
When You Believe
Miracle
I Have Nothing
Didn’t We Almost Have It All
I’m Every Woman
I Want To Dance With Somebody
My Love Is Your Love
Saving All My Love For You

I chose two music videos to place on this post. The first is the very first song I ever heard. This magnificent female singer’s voice came over a college radio station in upstate New York. I fell in love immediately with the song, her voice and had no idea who was singing or where this incredible song came from. I kept requesting it once I discovered both. The singer was Whitney Houston. No idea who she was. I had never heard of her. The song was one of those songs you sing along with and get such an intense thrill belting out the words and notes along with such an amazing voice. The song was/is “The Greatest Love of All.”

The second music video I chose was born out of one of those serendipitous moments. When I listen to videos on my posts, I often like to check out the videos hanging out behind the original video just waiting to be discovered. Well, this past week, on my post “How Many Words…” I searched among the videos that were hiding at the end of the song. I ran my cursor over the choices to find out who or what was available. I came upon a Whitney Houston song that I had never heard of before. I had no idea from what decade it came from or what album or when it had been recorded. And I wondered why I had missed this one. How I could have never heard it before. So, I noticed it had a reasonably high number of hits so I needed to choose between that or another version of the song it had been hiding behind which was “I Will Always Love You.” I clicked on the center of the choice. It loaded up and began playing. I was not prepared to be so blown away. I listened to the video over and over again. I put the video in my next post “Spirits Rising.” That same night I bought the song on Amazon and last night as I was getting ready to get under the covers I wanted to start out with that song but I couldn’t find it on the playlist I thought I had put it on. So I went back downstairs, woke up my laptop and WMP and put it on a playlist with several copies of the song and uploaded to my Walkman mp3. I couldn’t go to sleep last night until I listened to it over and over several times. Today, I needed to hear it again. I cannot believe I got up just a short time after 7am. If you know me that is usually when I go to bed. I’ve been sick so my schedule has changed rather radically. Ok, to the point, the song that I discovered that Whitney had recorded, (do you know how exciting it is to hear for me a new song by Whitney Houston almost a year after she died), and it is such an amazing song to me. It is titled: “Try It On My Own.”

Listen to these two songs and if you haven’t heard the second one either, give it a chance and listen several times. I do hope you find it as so overwhelmingly emotional as I do. I feel like for that moment when I am listening to Try It On My Own, that I am hearing Whitney as though she has been reborn.

The Videos, except the one j. kiley created, may or may not work on my post but I have built into the titles the links to the videos. So if necessary you will still be able to see and hear the videos no matter what. I hope you enjoy them.

Whitney Houston—Greatest Love of AllClick On Title To View Video. They Pulled Video.

Try It On My Own-Whitney Houston
Video Created by j. kiley

Whitney Houston—Try It On My OwnClick on Title to View Video. They Pulled Video

Fourth Part:

“The trouble in life is not that you are extraordinarily or ordinarily talented but you are read (recognized & appreciated) posthumously.” ― Santosh Kalwar

Four Special videos For those who want to remember the real Whitney, not the media’s portrayal. The top three are concerts and the last one is of Whitney with Bobbi Kristina when she was little. It is a wonderful look at Whitney being herself. These will take time to listen to so come back and visit several times or listen and watch. The visual is worth the attention.

Whitney Houston Live in London 1988 Celebrating Nelson Mandela’s BirthdayClick On Title To Go To Video. They Pulled Video From Post

Whitney Houston Live in South Africa in 1994Click On Title To Go To Video. They Pulled Video From Post

Whitney Houston Live in Poland 1999Click on Title to Go to Video. They Pulled Video

Whitney Houston performing with Bobbi Kristina Brown “My Love Is Your Love”Click On Title To go to Video. They Pulled Video From Post

Fifth Part:

Was Whitney Gay or Not? I don’t think it matters but her mother Cissy’s new exploitative book seems to make it a topic of discussion. She advertised it on OWN with Oprah and made it clear she would not have accepted Whitney if she had told her mother she was a lesbian. Cissy said she wouldn’t stand for it. Rather shocked Oprah with this emphatic response. (No I did not watch these interviews. Saw clips on HuffPost. Oh, her brother confesses to be the one that started Whitney on crack.) Bobbi Kristina has come out against it and wants people to boycott it. Cannot blame her. If you’re Gay/Lesbian, you’ve probably heard the kind of rejection Whitney’s mother demonstrated to her daughter. I added this section because I agree with Whitney’s daughter Bobbie Kristina that her mother is being exploited in the book Cissy Houston wrote. I love Whitney Houston and I have no intention of purchasing this book. The following are articles that show you a side to Whitney’s mother that is not very appealing and it just makes me wonder.

There were also two other videos that I was going to add to this post but after giving it a great deal of thought and directed by my psychotherapist that it was not a good idea and could prove to be dangerous and destructive, I chose to withdraw the videos. If people are meant to see them they will discover them on their own.

The following articles come from reputable online publications. The first two from 2013 January and the second is from the day after Whitney Houston died and also from a reputable publication. Decide for yourself if you chose to read these articles to learn something more about what Whitney was up against in her life when she was alive.

related article: cissy_houston_will_never_be_a_pflag_parent
related article: cissy houston whitney houston gay rumors
related article: whitney houston anatomy of a lesbian rumor

“The trouble in life is not that you are extraordinarily or ordinarily talented but you are read (recognized & appreciated) posthumously.” ― Santosh Kalwar

It is a horrible thing about how those who have amazing gifts are only really valued and worth something after they are dead and how unforgiving some people can be if you have any weaknesses while you are alive. I love Whitney Houston and will continue to do so. I do not judge her. She was a good person who gave her whole life to make people feel love. R.I.P Whitney Elizabeth Houston. You are greatly appreciated and loved not just by me but by millions if not billions. I hope you have found the love you deserved in life. I Will Always Love You. Love, Jennifer jk the secret keeper ps. I know the truth and many others do. Those who know who they are will pay someday for their complicity. You are safe now and I am hoping Bobbi Kristina is. I am sure you are watching over her.

light guides the way

light guides the way
haiku by jennifer kiley
trans-graphics by j. kiley
dedicated to friendship
11.18.12

light guides the way

haiku-feeling pain

the endless depths by j. kiley

you light up my life-debbie boone

Tasting the Shadows

Tasting the Shadows
by Jennifer Kiley
10.24.12

identity

Tasting the Shadows
by Jennifer Kiley
10.24.12

tasting the shadows
bloodletting cover the teeth
lips are swollen shut

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

walking talking punch
ground is hard kicking painful
it’s another day

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words that hurt feelings
store the pain smile walk away
tears pillow alone

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they say we hate you
loser gay queer no one cares
stares laugh at loser

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

texting hate mail comes
naked photographs displayed
secretly shot you

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cheer on bullying
no shame for them just for you
you want it to stop

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pain destroying you
can’t stop them must kill yourself
bullying complete

© Jennifer Kiley 2012
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You Are Loved (Don’t Give Up)-Josh Groban

bonsai trees with tree house takanori aiba japanese artist

Can’t Help But Feel the Pain

Can’t Help But Feel the Pain
by the secret keeper
10.4.12

enchanted woods

Can’t Help But Feel the Pain
By the secret keeper
10.4.12
Written on National Poetry Day

To know first love
Only romantic love
The first time you love
The first time love
Touches you
It is your first time
To know that gentle caress
What is that really like?

What is it really like
When you know
You will never know
That feeling

That feeling
That was stolen
From you
From your body
It can never be returned
The thieves that stole it
Had no concern
They didn’t care
Taking that moment
Away from you
They felt that it was theirs

It is not a moment
That happens but once
When it is stolen
It never happens at all

When true love comes
The touch inside your body
It is gone away
Lost in the ether
Captured by the keeper
Of unsafe moments
The memories locked away
So your body won’t remember
What the thieves did
On all those horrible
Nights and days

If you do remember
They return in nightmares
Wide awake ‘mares
Trampling your mind
With images of pain
And cruelty

Being safe again
And free
Means letting go
Of the pain
The torture
Locked inside
Your body
And in your mind

Scream out the pain
Tear out the thoughts
That cloud your brain
Stop the torture
That keeps you
From trust and love
Believing it is real
Not something
That will hurt
And haunt your soul

Trust good love
Real love
It does exist
Let love in
Don’t run away
Let the bad feelings go
Let the good feelings in

Say goodbye to the torture
And pain from childhood
It needs to come to an end
It is time now to trust
In your friends
They will care for you
And love you
And not hurt you
The way you were
Hurt back then

It really is over
It is time to let love in
And let it stay
And it’s time you
Trusted love
To give some
Of yours away
You do it anyway
You’re just not aware
That you share love
In many different ways

© Jennifer Kiley 2012

You Are Loved (Don’t Give Up)-Josh Groban

the meaning and creative process of depression

the meaning and creative process of depression
by jennifer kiley

this post was prompted by a quote that Niamh Clune wrote on my post: “the art of seeing depression.” the quote is: “The melancholia of the soul and its desire to return to the beauty of the universe.” it was something Plato had described. that is what i am trying to discover, “the meaning and creative process of depression.” i am hoping what i learn from reading “BiPolar In Disorder” will guide me to an opening up inside my mind and a releasing of a clarity. it doesn’t sound easy but nothing that is worth it is. (sorry-what a cliche) but it is true. the quote from Plato caused a click in my head and possibly an insight. bear with me but i interpret the quote “the melancholia of the soul” is the deep depression which brings on a strong desire to want to leave this world. they’re symbiotic: depression & suicide. why suicide is a reaction to depression & it all seems so automatic, one follows the other almost immediately. is it a desire to want to release your soul into freedom? or is it an evil force torturing your mind & tricking it to release the soul into a hell beyond life. i vote for freedom.

but either way, it is suicide we are taling about. that cannot be the ultimate conclusion to depression. it has to exist for a more beneficial purpose. i just can’t figure it out but i want to understand it. i write some of the most intense poetry when in the thralls of depression. the words as they leave my mind and are recorded, the pressure inside of my head gradually diminishes. the energy starts to change and the release triggers a relaxation of the depressive state. when music is added in combination with the writing it becomes a more powerful state of creativity and the level of the depression is all consuming. it produces an extremely intense moment of energy and the creativity state becomes more divine and flows more freely. but the level of pain also increases in intensity. it’s visceral. it absorbs every part of you.

where lies the problem? experiencing the pain becomes an unbearable state which drives you into a state of madness that pushes you toward suicide. what are the alternatives? why suicide? how else does one relieve the pain? that’s what is needed, the answer to the question of what is the pain? where does it come from? how does one accept the pain without the consequences leading to suicidal thoughts or the act of committing or trying to commit suicide? what can take the place of suicide to satisfy the feelings of pain?

there needs to be a new way to think of pain and a way to appease its presence in your mind, body, heart and spirit. pain has always been something we want to be rid of. what is inside of pain that we are not understanding? pain is all encompassing. it doesn’t just touch your body. it infuses in your mind, heart and spirit. what, then, really is pain? that is the question. it fills the artist who then produces from her vision a perception from the depth of her soul. something profound or new may manifest itself from within her.

what are the other purposes of pain? it alerts you to something being wrong inside your body. in the state of depression then, pain is alerting you to something that is wrong inside of your being, your consicousness. pain is a warning system. something is not right with your all encompassing world. is the pain limited to your immediate being or does it streatch out globally or universally?

but let us get back to depression. the pain that is manifest in the state of depression. what warning is pain trying to communicate? it all seems to be unconscious, while writing in flow through the pain, it does seem to alleviate the pressure and release the strength of the pain. is depression the blocking out of the pain from awareness to the mind? is the thought or act of suicide a way of preventing the awareness contained within the pain?

all questions but few if any answers as of yet. “pain makes us pull away.” this is a reaction to touching something that is burning you. after taking out a metal tray of french fries from the oven, using a pot holder that i carefully placed over the edge of the tray, as i was closing in over my plate, my thumb started shotting an intense pain to my brain. my instinctual response was to react as quickly as possible to rid myself of what was causing the pain. therefore, i, technically, frisbied the tray across to the cutting board table. the tray landed on the table and the french fries literally at breakneck speed slid off the super hot tray and flew across the floor until the kitchen wall stopped them. now i was in pain and probably made a screaming sound followed by many expletives, which brought my s/o into the kitchen rather quickly to find out what had happened. i stood there and looked at all the french fries spread out on the floor and started to laugh through my pain. i asked if she felt the floor was clean enough to rescue the fries so that i would be able to eat them. (there is always the five second rule). she did manage to collect them all off of the floor and shook her head in the negative. i looked at the fries. they were rather disgusting. so i agreed. they weren’t going to go well with my cheeseburger. while i placed my thumb under cold running water, my s/o placed more fries on the now cooled off tray and baked me more fries for my dinner. while the fries cooked that is when i felt i needed more than cold water, so i placed an ice cube on my thumb, which actually stuck to it like that little boy’s tongue did to the metal pole in “the chistmas story.”

so, the moral to the story is that pain can make people laugh. it does it all the time in comedies on film or tv. what causes the transformation? the same experience in a comedy that makes one laugh is totally turned around in a drama where it might actually have the effect of making you cry. then there is the comedy that is so hilarious that it makes you laugh so hysterically that it brings tears to your eyes and then makes you both cry and laugh at the same time over the same thing. where is the switch that turns things around like that?

while i wrote down the story of the french fries, i started to laugh the more i remembered what happened. and i was the one who was in pain. what is that about? why does it make me laugh after the fact? i know something that could never possibly be funny and that is 9/11 and the world trade center towers collapsing. yet, when the emmy’s were held that year, shortly following that horrible day, ellen degeneres actually made people laugh using a joke that was indirectly related to 9/11. at 6:04 minutes into the video, that is the joke i am referring to but the whole video is quite funny. it starts out briefly with ellen saying goodnight then opens with a statement by walter cronkite. then there’s ellen. just go with it. she is as funny and brilliant as ever.

ellen degeneres as host of the emmy’s in 2001

i will continue my pursuit to find the answers to what is bipolar depression and why the pain and suicidal thoughts or attempts or the completion to a successful suicide. the correlation has to have a deeper meaning. this will take time to work out. i am hopeful that i will find some answers but my mind needs time to collect research information and then to analyze it. i have one book now that will begin helping to open the doors wider and another book that i am waiting for it to become available. i am also searching online for videos on the topic of pain and depression, specifically bipolar depression. i will post more on this subject as the theories emerge from my brain or inspiration strikes me. so enjoy the video of ellen at the emmy awards doing her opening monologue. it will make you laugh but it also may bring back memories of that day of 9/11.

the opposite of loneliness

University | 3:10 a.m. | May. 27, 2012 | By Marina Keegan

KEEGAN: The Opposite of Loneliness

Marina Keegan Yale Class of 2012 – died at age 22

Marina Keegan ’12. Photo by Facebook.

The piece below was written by Marina Keegan ’12 for a special edition of the News distributed at the class of 2012′s commencement exercises last week. Keegan died in a car accident on Saturday. She was 22.

We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I could say that’s what I want in life. What I’m grateful and thankful to have found at Yale, and what I’m scared of losing when we wake up tomorrow and leave this place.

It’s not quite love and it’s not quite community; it’s just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. Who are on your team. When the check is paid and you stay at the table. When it’s four a.m. and no one goes to bed. That night with the guitar. That night we can’t remember. That time we did, we went, we saw, we laughed, we felt. The hats.

Yale is full of tiny circles we pull around ourselves. A cappella groups, sports teams, houses, societies, clubs. These tiny groups that make us feel loved and safe and part of something even on our loneliest nights when we stumble home to our computers — partner-less, tired, awake. We won’t have those next year. We won’t live on the same block as all our friends. We won’t have a bunch of group-texts.

This scares me. More than finding the right job or city or spouse – I’m scared of losing this web we’re in. This elusive, indefinable, opposite of loneliness. This feeling I feel right now.

But let us get one thing straight: the best years of our lives are not behind us. They’re part of us and they are set for repetition as we grow up and move to New York and away from New York and wish we did or didn’t live in New York. I plan on having parties when I’m 30. I plan on having fun when I’m old. Any notion of THE BEST years comes from clichéd “should haves…” “if I’d…” “wish I’d…”

Of course, there are things we wished we did: our readings, that boy across the hall. We’re our own hardest critics and it’s easy to let ourselves down. Sleeping too late. Procrastinating. Cutting corners. More than once I’ve looked back on my High School self and thought: how did I do that? How did I work so hard? Our private insecurities follow us and will always follow us.

But the thing is, we’re all like that. Nobody wakes up when they want to. Nobody did all of their reading (except maybe the crazy people who win the prizes…) We have these impossibly high standards and we’ll probably never live up to our perfect fantasies of our future selves. But I feel like that’s okay.

We’re so young. We’re so young. We’re twenty-two years old. We have so much time. There’s this sentiment I sometimes sense, creeping in our collective conscious as we lay alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out – that it is somehow too late. That others are somehow ahead. More accomplished, more specialized. More on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving. That it’s too late now to BEGIN a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.

When we came to Yale, there was this sense of possibility. This immense and indefinable potential energy – and it’s easy to feel like that’s slipped away. We never had to choose and suddenly we’ve had to. Some of us have focused ourselves. Some of us know exactly what we want and are on the path to get it; already going to med school, working at the perfect NGO, doing research. To you I say both congratulations and you suck.

For most of us, however, we’re somewhat lost in this sea of liberal arts. Not quite sure what road we’re on and whether we should have taken it. If only I had majored in biology…if only I’d gotten involved in journalism as a freshman…if only I’d thought to apply for this or for that…

What we have to remember is that we can still do anything. We can change our minds. We can start over. Get a post-bac or try writing for the first time. The notion that it’s too late to do anything is comical. It’s hilarious. We’re graduating college. We’re so young. We can’t, we MUST not lose this sense of possibility because in the end, it’s all we have.

In the heart of a winter Friday night my freshman year, I was dazed and confused when I got a call from my friends to meet them at EST EST EST. Dazedly and confusedly, I began trudging to SSS, probably the point on campus farthest away. Remarkably, it wasn’t until I arrived at the door that I questioned how and why exactly my friends were partying in Yale’s administrative building. Of course, they weren’t. But it was cold and my ID somehow worked so I went inside SSS to pull out my phone. It was quiet, the old wood creaking and the snow barely visible outside the stained glass. And I sat down. And I looked up. At this giant room I was in. At this place where thousands of people had sat before me. And alone, at night, in the middle of a New Haven storm, I felt so remarkably, unbelievably safe.

We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I’d say that’s how I feel at Yale. How I feel right now. Here. With all of you. In love, impressed, humbled, scared. And we don’t have to lose that.

We’re in this together, 2012. Let’s make something happen to this world.

**************************************************************************************

by jennifer kiley
(follow to the next post: “this is all too familiar” and it will help to understand why i choose to exhibit this post. thank you.)

the opposite of loneliness is to have an open heart, and to let love in freely and continuously, no matter the pain that the joy of love can bring.

RIP all those who are taken too soon. who do not get to live out a full and complete life. who knows what would have been that can never be?

forever young – alphaville

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself

"a reminder of what once was and now is just a fantasy"

Love has no other desire but to fulfill  itself

by jen kiley “the secret keeper”

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. 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 for 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.