Comments on: Why contempt is like caffeine

By: Tess

Tess — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 22:01:05 +0000

Marisa, welcome to our foggy double tall fresh ground discussion! I hadn’t spotted that one, but I do the same thing. Looking back, if I haven’t noticed the lovely scent of my soap in the shower it will be a bad day. Maybe if I consciously notice it will be a good one. And I wish you loads of those.

By: The Girl Who Cried Epiphany

The Girl Who Cried Epiphany — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 21:22:54 +0000

I’m late in coming to this little espresso shot of wisdom, but it is just as steamy and true a week later, promise!
I am riding high and falling flat in constant cycles every few days. I always know which direction I am headed based on what thoughts get stuck in my head while I am in the shower. Am I making plans and smiling at possibilities and singing silly songs to Moira who lies in her Moses basket on the other side of the curtain? Or, am I wounded dog chasing her tail, thinking over every time my mother-in-law looked at me cross eyed or analyzing why a close family friend still has not sent a note to acknowledge the baby’s birth. You can tell which days I am trying to have more of…

By: The Pollinatrix

The Pollinatrix — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 21:26:59 +0000

To continue with your caffeine analogy, the vat of fog is like the half-inch of days old coffee congealed in the bottom of the cup.

By: The Pollinatrix

The Pollinatrix — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 21:26:13 +0000

The term “a vat of fog” is making me smile.

By: Tess

Tess — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 21:25:19 +0000

I love my readers, you create such fabulous conversations here!
@kigen: thank you . I certainly think we should own our giftedness and our better selves. Perhaps a post on that soon…
@Polli: I had a strong visual reaction to your “sinking feeling” – as if I could see you disappearing into a vat of fog. And I think that lack of power – or control maybe – is a problem for many of us.

By: The Pollinatrix

The Pollinatrix — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 05:22:56 +0000

What a powerful discussion you all have been having! There is so much to ponder and chew and digest a little at a time here. I may be back later.

For now, I’m thinking about my own contempt and rage, what sparks it. I know a big part of it, if not the root, is a sense of powerlessness. And yes, it comes when I’m blocking something I don’t want to embrace. But the immediate red flag that you’re asking about, Tess, for me is a sinking feeling. That’s the only way I can think to describe it right now.

Wow, these are really good things for me to be thinking about. I will continue to. Thank you for posting this!

By: kigen

kigen — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 03:54:43 +0000

There is a complicity in both of the posts by Tess and Diana, with the casual confession of unkind things, which we read with a shock in the poem by Blake.

I don’t know where to take this from there. I have a feeling that Diana is speaking as a healer, her post certainly helped me to connect the dots. Tess’ post is actually a catharsis, which relaxes all our secret guilts trips. But it may be that we all need to think about owning up to our better selves too, rather than confessing our supposed failures. Tess could as easily confess her incredible kindness of heart and her deep sensitivity to the fragility of her friends (which I herewith personally vouch for!)

By: Tess

Tess — Sun, 10 Jan 2010 19:27:15 +0000

Such a powerful poem Diana, I hadn’t known it before. The word you use, ominous, is exactly right. Watered and fed – it reminds me of an old story I repeated very early on in the life of this blog, here: http://www.anchormast.com/2007/04/16/wolves/

By: Diana

Diana — Sun, 10 Jan 2010 19:07:21 +0000

Anger, contempt, and the psychology of enmity reminds me of William Blake, particularly given the exquisite painting that illustrates this poem. There is such an ominous feeling about Blake’s drawing, and his words give voice to the anguish of rage and the power it has had in my life, in so many lives.

A Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

William Blake

By: Tess

Tess — Sun, 10 Jan 2010 18:29:01 +0000

@Lisa: yes, it is this slamming on of the brakes, almost as a defence against the letting go – you put it very well.
@Lucy: hahaha indeed! Yes, I think resentment is another key flag for many people, as Sulwyn points out. Er, no, you got another convoluted piece of what passes for my personality – the piece around being too aware of others’ opinions. I thought you’d expect me to be one of those contributing so I thought I’d say upfront that I wouldn’t be…
@Claire: I think everyone experiences these undertows differently, the precise emotions that flag up resistance for me might not be the same for you. We all seem to suffer from these crashes though, as you beautifully describe with your heaviness, and I think you are absolutely right, your shadow is kicking back.
@Sulwyn: thanks for commenting, and isn’t it horrible when this happens, even when you know it won’t be forever, let alone when it takes awhile to recognise?
@Sue: this triggered a really useful thought for me – that I might genuinely not be able to “go there” yet and that sometimes that’s actually OK. Thank you.
@Roxanne: how very interesting, and what a great description you give of this overwhelming urge to escape.
@Christine: you’re right, and I was able to notice my resistance this week, and it was interesting. Still didn’t get me started until very late though!
@diantha: that’s what I love about us – humans I mean – this mutual recognition.