My Soul to Keep

Okay, okay, okay--I keep writing about Trans versity without giving any examples but really it has been so personal. However, I have decided wtf and here is the fourth in the series. It sums up all the rest really but maybe someday I will share the others.

My Soul to Keep

What happens when we journey deep into the depths of our misshapen soul?

Is it a place we shouldn’t really go?

Mine is full of tarry pits, dark corridors that turn and twist

Quicksand and slippery slopes

Phantoms ,demons and poisonous toads.

Most people think souls are white and clean

But mine is full of holes and cobwebs that cling

There are piles of bile and hateful gnats

That sting and bite like rabid bats.

It is really a scary place to be…

How did it get this way? It wasn’t me

It wasn’t me who called me names

Who swathed me in ugly shame

It wasn’t me who slapped my face

Or made fun of me for saying grace

I wasn’t the sadist that betrayed my love

Or tormented my trust like they were salting a slug.

No, it wasn’t me that made the mess

It isn’t me that needs to confess.

It wasn’t me that caused the tarnish

But it’s up to me to clean and varnish

But to refute the evil is a quirky trick

As if I were the witch that has to be pricked

There is no evil in me, that’s part of the charade

I m the earth, not the road they paved

My soul is really pure and whole

The scene above is a tale of trolls

God forgives me for sins I did not do

But this forgiveness means everything so I believe its true

It’s been a valiant expedition into my soul

Not a place for the timid to go

And I can’t say its suddenly shiny and bright

But at least I know now how to better focus the light

I wouldn’t be me without the life I’ve had

And truthfully, good has outweighed the bad

But when one goes deep inside

Where all the fears slither and hide

then ghastly scenes are what you find

that you then excavate and mine

to make room for the love that you might otherwise miss

if not for renovating the secret abyss

And now I’m tired and just want to sleep

I pray to God my soul to keep.

Trans Verse

Trans Verse is my new name for therapeutic poems that lead to insight and/or relief. Well, a trans verse is one poem but as a group or concept they would be transversity. Don't you just love it! The word transverse means to extend across. Transvert means to cause to extend across but to me trans verse is using verse to transform one's perceptions and feelings.
The problem with my own trans verse is that it has led to some personal trauma. When we dive deep into the psyche and start mucking with ancient scripts and progroms we may stir up more than what we anticipated. Here I am saying we when of course, I mean me.
I have been struggling with an existential crisis which I do from time to time much to my own chagrin. So this last week I have been dealing with ancient fears which then causes me great anxiety but this is why I am therapist. I am able to journey deep into the machinations of the mind, into those chasms peopled with specters and phantoms that terrorize. I learn much in these journeys that is then helpful with the people I treat. It is also helpful to me, once I am on solid ground again. I better understand why I do what I do. I am then better able to proceed with my own creative goals with greater clarity and purpose. It all wears me out though. My little brain feels like it has been through the wringer so I am being extra kind to my soul.
Trans verse leads one to cross from the conscious mind into the arroyo of the subconscious and sometimes all the way into the unconscious which might sound more fun than it really is.
I think an interesting next step would be to come up with ways to teach others how to use trans verse. I have already begun with some of my clients because I know I will be there to help them fight any monsters that might emerge but I am thinking that there might be a tamer, less intense way to use trans verse, too. I say this because I do not think everyone wants to confront the ghosts of the nursery. I think most people just want to be happier. Actually, that is all I wanted, too. Oh, well, that is why I am a therapist.

Where to Begin When we Begin Again

I say we but it is really only me beginning again-nothing momentous but just returning to a blog state of mind. Writing a blog is thinking out loud with mindfulness. Today I am mainly thinking of being tired.
I only slept six hours last night because as I was trying to slip into dreamland, pondering my mood, the words "I m under a blue moon" came to me. Certainly sounded like the beginning of poem but my rule is, I don't actually reach for pen and paper until at least 4-6 lines fall into place. Well, they fell into place easily enough but the next 30 lines took more work. It wasn't until midnight that the last line finally gelled.
I am very sorry to tell you, though, that this is not a poem I will share on here as it is not a good poem strictly speaking. It wasn't created to be. It was created, instead as a way for me to process my mood and to sort through the life circumstances that led to my mood. This was the second poem of this sort I have written. Both are phenomenal in that both were transformational in a way I never knew a poem to be. Both resulted in insights that I do not think I would have come to otherwise.
In future blogs I will tell you more about these poems but right now I want to give them a name to set them apart from non-therapy poems, though all poems have some therapeutic value. Any ideas re welcome...therapoetry? Yawn! Maybe I will sleep on it.