Our Imprisoned Images

I am giving a talk at the Body Knowledge Conference (2 - 4 September) organised by WISER at WITS on The Image in the Symptom. This lovely quote by Rilke sums it up:

 Work of the eyes is done, now

go and do heart-work

on all the images imprisoned within you; for you

overpowered them: but even now you don't know them.

                                                                 - Rainer Maria Rilke from: Turning Point

Henry Miller on Life, Dancing and Surrender.

• 
  
• From Brain Pickings:
  
  Henry Miller begins with a riff on Howe’s book War Dance:
  

  The art of living is based on rhythm — on give and take, ebb and flow, light and dark, life and death. By acceptance of all aspects of life, good and bad, right and wrong, yours and mine, the static, defensive life, which is what most people are cursed with, is converted into a dance, ‘the dance of life,’ metamorphosis. One can dance to sorrow or to joy; one can even dance abstractly. … But the point is that, by the mere act of dancing, the elements which compose it are transformed; the dance is an end in itself, just like life. The acceptance of the situation, any situation, brings about a flow, a rhythmic impulse towards self-expression. To relax is, of course, the first thing a dancer has to learn. It is also the first thing a patient has to learn when he confronts the analyst. It is the first thing any one has to learn in order to live. It is extremely difficult, because it means surrender, full surrender.

  […]

  Life, as we all know, is conflict, and man, being part of life, is himself an expression of conflict. If he recognizes the fact and accepts it, he is apt, despite the conflict, to know peace and to enjoy it. But to arrive at this end, which is only a beginning (for we haven’t begun to live yet!), a man has got to learn the doctrine of acceptance, that is, of unconditional surrender, which is love.

The Worried Sick

Interesting article on the nocebo effect...

http://www.the-scientist.com/?articles.view/articleNo/36126/title/Worried-Sick/

Another brave and thoughtful article from Karen Hitchcock

https://www.themonthly.com.au/issue/2013/march/1361848247/karen-hitchcock/fat-city

Doctor / writer Karen Hitchcock

Thanks Bridget Thompson for pointing this doctor / writer out to me. Thought-provoking, well-written, humane and hilarious articles about the problems of the contemporary approach to health care, e.g.:
https://www.themonthly.com.au/issue/2012/july/1341560637/karen-hitchcock/last-resort

Article on Anxiety by Rosamund Handler

http://mg.co.za/article/2013-05-24-00-anxiety-driven-and-derailed-by-fear

The Aroma of Spring

Amazing man - John Parker. These changes are happening in my lifetime...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaeTq7ne0Pw

Online Interview with Anthea Garman

Anthea has a wonderful blog Writing Across Genres. Check it out.

http://writexgenres.wordpress.com/dialogues/dialogue-with-dawn-strengthening-the-spirit-of-my-writing/

Poetry writing workshop at the FynArts Festival

I will be running a three day poetry writing workshop in Hermanus as part of their new cultural festival. Monday 10th to Wednesday 12th June. Get out your pencils and join me...
http://www.hermanusfynarts.co.za/

Oliver Sacks on Memory

What a lovely man and role model. I am reviewing his latest book "Hallucinations', which is fascinating reading. http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2013/02/04/oliver-sacks-on-memory-and-plagiarism/

A Tough Language

‘When people say that poetry is a luxury, or an option, or for the educated middle classes, or that it should not be read at school because it is irrelevant, or any of the strange and stupid things that are said about poetry and its place in our lives, I suspect that the people doing the saying have had things pretty easy. A tough life needs a tough language – and that it what poetry is. That is what literature offers – a language powerful enough to say it how it is.

It isn’t a hiding place, it is a finding place.’

Jeanette Winterson, from Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

Dance Project with Bettie Coetzee Lambrecht

This collaboration, where I danced some of my poems for Bettie's camera, was a rich experience, and has resulted in a book: To Life; Dance It. The current trend towards an interdisciplinary approach to art and life can help us understand each other and ourselves better.

http://www.facebook.com/bettie.coetzeelambrecht/timeline/story?ut=32&wstart=1359705600&wend=1362124799&hash=594915223856875&pagefilter=3&ustart=1

The book and prints of the photographs can be ordered from Bettie: bcbrecht@gmail.com .

The Bird Novel

I have come to think of birds as the original anti-depressant. A friend posted the following to me today, which just about sums it up, and more. The review is about writing, keeping what is important alive, and having a reference point outside the narcissistic world of human beings:

http://www.thesmartset.com/article/article08221202.aspx

Memoir writing course in Cape Town Feb 2013

The next memoir writing course is from February 25th to March 1st 2013, mornings 9am to 1pm. For more information, please email dawn.garisch@gmail.com.

FOR THOSE OF US WITH DAMAGED SIGHT

Monet Refuses the Operation

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/236810

Review from Goodreads

This is not a book easily categorised. A non-fiction book, yes. Part memoir, yes. Part medical observances, yes. Then there is poetry and musing on how we live life - both socially, politically, career-wise and in the family. What I would not call it, is a self-help book. Yet, it may help. But no, the book does not strive to solve all your life's problems. Nor will it. 

Over the course of the year I have had to come to terms that my health problems are not curable. At least two of them are chronic conditions. Chronic - it will not end until I do. What I had to finally say to myself is, 'I will not live in fear.' To stop worrying how bad it will be later. This is very different from living in denial or some fantasy land where all is happy-go-lucky. One needs to do today what one can to ensure the body works as best it can in the future. This means being aware of the condition, the options to manage it and making sure life is - as best one can - lived to cause minimal harm. But one must still live. And one must not sit and stew, creating horrific scenarios playing 'what if.' Practical - fine. But spending too much time worrying that someday I may be unable to write / walk - or whatever - is only going to make living today harder. 

Neither condition is like breaking a bone. There is no perfect manual that says, 'If X happens, do Y.' It is more of guessing game between PT, medicine and making changes in my day-to-day life. Nor does the PT and meds always 'work' the way we thought they would. There is this fine line we all walk, trying to make things better and not worse. Sometimes something looks promising and actually turns out to be a poor choice. Learning as we go, while still trying to live a life. 

Having others in my life respect my new boundaries and being willing to help or work within my boundaries is helpful. 

What does not help is people telling me to 'not give up hoping for a cure.' The cure will be discovered or not regardless if I hope for one. Right now I'm busy figuring out how to open a can or get my groceries loaded into the car. Or how to type out my thoughts. Practical suggestions in these matters ARE helpful (like the person who reminded me that there IS the invention called an electric can opener). Hoping for a cure does not actually DO anything, nor does it make it any more or less likely for a cure to be discovered. 

Nor do I have patience for those who ask me me to be grateful for my current state. I am, however, grateful the author addressed this - especially the load of crap heaped on cancer patients as if their 'negative attitude' CAUSED cancer. 

The author also has a chronic condition. What I took away from her words is a woman trying to learn to live with her body. That her body is also linked to her mind, and the two co-exist together. What happens to one can impact the other - but not necessarily 'cure' each other. There needs to an understanding so one can live - keep mentally sane - while also an acceptance that THIS is the body you live with. There are unknowns. There are question marks hanging over the body's future. How we mentally deal with this unknown - like the unknowns in all aspects of life - will dictate how well a person lives each day. 

This is not an advocacy to plaster smiles / stiff upper lip / deny anything is wrong. In fact, the author is very honest about emotion, including the small sorrow that she felt when her project - this book - was at its conclusion. She brings out the imagery of a dance - the mind and body learning to move out of respect of one another. To be give the self space to morn / grieve - yet also not to wallow. 

Such fine lines. We like things put in sound bites: Be positive! Exercise is healthy! Work hard!
The truth, however, does not fit so neatly into slogans. Which is perhaps why I am rambling rather than describing this book. 

What I do know is this: I read many, many books - more than I even bother to list on goodreads. There are books that I enjoy, but never loan or buy for another because I can not easily pin-point people I know in my life who are a good match for that book. Then there are books that while I read them names of people who also NEED this book keep popping into my head. I have already bought two copies of this book. I easily see myself giving this to three more people. Not loaning - because I visualise them wanting their own to lend to others. I look forward to hearing what bits intrigued others. I am sure there will be many differing responses. As for me - I've got over 30 stickies peeping out from the pages. 

It is that kind of book.

- Tiah Beautement

Top Seller Kalk Bay Books

Another shot in the arm: Eloquent Body is the top selling book at Kalk Bay Books for the past year. Thank you to a great book shop.

A Great Leg Up

I am pleased to report that Eloquent Body was rated one of the top ten books published locally in 2012:
http://notnowdarling.co.za/top-ten-2012/

Wonderful review of Eloquent Body in Slipnet by Liesl Jobson

http://slipnet.co.za/view/reviews/bearing-witness-to-the-truth-of-our-own-lives/

Article for Body Language, Mail & Guardian 16th Nov 2012

Ordinary Madness

Recently an overweight friend announced proudly: ‘I lost two kilogrammes this week, so I celebrated by going to the deli and eating a big piece of chocolate cake.’

The other day I was called to see a patient who was having palpitations and difficulty breathing. Her symptoms were caused by a large intake of caffeine, nicotine and the stress of building renovations. I advised her to reduce drinking coffee and smoking, and to look at how she can manage her situation better. ‘Oh I can’t give up coffee and cigarettes now,’ she objected. ‘I am far too stressed for that.’

These are wonderful examples of ordinary madness. Both these women recognised the irony, and we had a good laugh.

When I started out as a doctor, I thought well-presented arguments would change people’s minds. Here are the facts, I would declare, conjuring up ghastly images of blackened, stiff lungs, and scarred, hardened livers. I would draw graphs, and pull out charts. My patients’ eyes would glaze; they would wait impatiently for me to finish so they could hurry off to the pub to have a double whiskey and a smoke. I could see them laughing with their buddies about the ridiculous GP while hacking up pieces of lung.

My training is in evidence-based medicine - prescribing treatments that have been proven to work. Yet if my patients acted on what researchers know is good for health, I might well be out of a job. Self-inflicted conditions are the doctor’s bread-and-butter.

I confess that I, too, exhibit some worrying trends. I bite my nails. I would rather no-one knows that I tear off bits of my own body with my teeth while reading. Not again, I think. What happened? This has to stop. I work with the public. I put my hands on their bodies, and they look down and see: a self-mutilator. My patients will know I am as mad as they are.

I have painted my nails. I have invested in gloves which remain at the bottom of my sock drawer. I sit on my hands while reading. I have a nail file next to my computer to deal with those irritating little sticky-out bits that tempt me to the point of my undoing. I reassure myself that - unlike eating sugar when you are diabetic – nail-biting is not a life-threatening condition.

In my defense, I never hurt myself. Almost never. I have perfected the art of nibbling down to the verge of hurt.

Rationally, like quitting smoking or resisting the cream cake, I could just stop. Stop it. STOP it. But the groove is so deep, so well-worn, so . . . potentially comforting. If logic is frequently, and surprisingly, unhelpful, instead of trying to get rid of our non-rational ways, we could turn and face them. Bravely, with curiosity.

For thousands of years, humans have understood why we are here and what to do about it by telling stories. Thunder was an angry god. The moon was Mantis’s shoe. Now that science gives us new ways of looking at thunder and the moon, many have ceased to take stories seriously.

Yet we resist being fully known through the tape measure and the set square. We are poetic as well as scientific beings. We respond to holy stones, lotus flowers and sacrifice. These images stimulate the poetic foundation of the mind – which merges and connects.

Mythological narratives inform our decisions. Psychologists and artists know this; their work is to reveal these underlying patterns and motifs.

The bite at my fingertips is also in my back. I have the jaws of a bull mastiff locked into my right thoracic back muscles. I have tried many therapies, but it is determined to hang on forever.

My backache is part of an autoimmune condition. There are scientific ways to describe my intransigent illness. Doctors usually stop at that. Yet the dog also resides there. This is the poetry of the body – the subjective experience. It is another way of understanding, and it is as valuable as medication.

My back talks to me in the only way it can, using symbol / symptoms, making me aware of an embedded story. Since investigating the biting motif through imagination and art, I am not as tensed against the ferocious canine. When I notice the grip, I become aware of a need to get tough, more protective.

The body does not speak English, so it can be difficult to work out what these crazy symptom-poems are saying. I wait, with curiosity, for the ordinary madness of my story to unfold. And sometimes I risk appearing really deranged by suggesting this approach to my intransigent patients.