I’d like to make u aware of a blog that apparently won’t permit re-blogging or coming to you in the Reader. My e-mail is usually running over and I miss quite a few posts (all of them on the social channel of my machine), but you may be interested in visiting Bradley’s “The Bipoar Bear” blog.
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All posts by Nan Mykel
Senator Kamala Harris Appears To Make The Old Boys’ Network In The Senate, Nervous — Gronda Morin
Published June 18, 2017 by Nan Mykel
There is not a woman alive who has ever held any executive type position who has not experienced this phenomenon of being interrupted, talked over by male co-workers while she was simply doing her job. There are literally hundreds of published articles out there in the real world, advising women how to navigate successfully under […]
via Senator Kamala Harris Appears To Make The Old Boys’ Network In The Senate, Nervous — Gronda Morin
The Cat — Heather Sawaya Writing
Published June 18, 2017 by Nan MykelI thought about calling you
but have no idea
who you really are.
Perfect ending. I’m reblogging.
(Hieronymus Bosch, 1450- 1516)
Part of the program
was to trigger and split
those wounded by rape
and abuse.
It is almost impossible to
not be affected by
such twisted symbolism.
The murder one of it is
that you will not want it
until you want it.
You will adjust
to not feel
this much pain.
Your mind does all it can
to protect you,
distorting the unbearable
into some warped version
of acceptable.
Through the downpour
and over every bridge,
the soul cannot be destroyed
and so
you cannot ever lose who
you truly are.
You will
trying to control and enslave you
you will find strength and peace within
the sanctity of growth symbolism
that will help you resist
dissociation
and fade alters.
You will surface.
I felt sick today,
headachy and exhausted,
agitated.
I managed to avoid
the cops’ and the puppets’
ventilation burn and
parable threats.
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Orion’s Wheel reblog – Whimseygizmo
Published June 18, 2017 by Nan MykelMarvelous imagery…
….
We steal celestial moments,
thread our words through belt
loops touched only by
gods light years away.
We call names.
Fall apart.
Whistle and wait
for the echo of
our own syllables.
The stars are pin-prick cat prints
on construction paper,
and
somebody gnaws a moon
-ring in the black licorice
of this broken sky.
…
wordled.
Of Paradoxes and Pop – by Mimik
Published June 17, 2017 by Nan MykelSo beautifully expressed and wise…I’m reblogging
Hi,
So here’s what’s been rolling around in this very addled head of mine…My neighbor Gary is an avid gardener. So much so, that we have never spoken about anything else. He came to the door a few weeks back to tell me that our grass was being over-watered and that I should adjust the scheduling of the sprinkler system. Ok, done. The other day he flagged down my car to advise me that my grass wasn’t getting enough water (I’m abbreviating the conversation to keep this thing going).
Everything needs water – but not too much. Every meal should be savored – but not so much that you get heartburn. My cyber pal David (davidkanigan.com), is pondering the extremes of emotional bungee jumping, as I extol the state of balance. But highs are awesome – it’s the lows that suck. It’s all a paradox (sidebar – Annie LaMott’s Ted…
View original post 567 more words
Oh poo!
Published June 15, 2017 by Nan MykelI was trying to comment on a couple of d’Verse poems tonight but they wouldn’t take. It said Comment and I did and then it asked what site I was from and then for my site name and then wouldn’t take my comment–wanted me to start all over again and also asked if I wanted to join ATOM whatever that is. Where are you supposed to learn new procedures?
I’m not really as upset as this may sound, just a little frustrated and feeling ignorant (which I do hat
e).
VIGNETTE for d’Verse
Published June 15, 2017 by Nan MykelLOOKS DON’T MATTER
She stoops, sags a little and has a mole.
NOR DO THOUGHTS.
Murderous fantasies overwhelm her at times.
BEHAVIOR CAN BE CHANGED.
Old patterns of obsequiousness remain.
SEX ISN’T EVERYTHING.
She was raped, at eleven, by her uncle.
IT IS THE SPIRIT
Alive, under an imperfect breast:
THAT DEFINES
The woman.
Quote from Samantha Hunt
Published June 15, 2017 by Nan MykelWhat further heaven could people want than to become part of a tree?
(Samantha Hunt, Lapham’s Quarterly: Discovery Spring 2017, p 216)
Nan’s family photo.
Is the Blogosphere Competitive? Are People? Am I?
Published June 15, 2017 by Nan MykelI’ve decided my blog is too eclectic. My pages aren’t, but they’re usually by-passed anyway. My problem I think is that I write what I’m intrested in, and I have too wide a variety of interests for one blog. I’m also 81 and that’s not too cool, (I myself get dreadfully impatient with fumbling old folks like myself). Since you know I’m an incest survivor and you may not be, that’s a turn-off, especially since I seem to insist on reblogging tough tales. Downs Syndrome is not a funny topic–that’s why I have a separate page for it that is almost never visited. That’s ok. I’m just taking care of my own needs there.
My About page touts me as having a sense of humor, but it’s hard to fake unless it turns into sarcasm, and I swore off that years ago. About competitiveness: I’ve come across a lovely Christian lady’s blog who appears to be my age, and she’s cheery and loving and all those things I’m not.
I”d hate to see my stats alongside hers. Either I discover a level way to attract followers or resign myself to an incidental. Incidental! That’s not what I wanted to grow up/old to be! Another disadvantage s that I’m not in a sexual relationship nor ever will be. There go about half the poetry topics. And I’m lowdown fat, so cooking leaves me out. The other day I sampled some philosopical blogs and discovered I’ve lost about half my vocabulary, if I ever possessed so erudite a one.
I could fill this blog with all my pages and stories of errors in judgment, embarrassing things I have done (shudder), boo boos and downright thoughtless and selfish things I’ve done, but I don’t think that would increase my readership.
Why do I want readers? First, because everyone else has more than me (that’s where the competitive strain comes in). Second, I do crave contact and exchange of ideas. There’s been a hole in my life ever since I finished psychology graduate school that’s never really been filled. It’s the back and forth I crave, I think. I’d fall asleep in class being lectured to for an hour or two, not to mention the dread of slight discomfort getting there and back.
SO I SHOULD RE-TITLE THIS blog Complain Complain Complain, another kind of blog I try and avoid myself. I’m not seeking reassurance from my relatives and blogging friends, so please don’t provide reassurance. Just let me pout a little while and I;ll reappear with all smiles. Did you ever catch mood swings like mine?
Are we real or fairy stories?
Published June 14, 2017 by Nan Mykel
Is evolution a sop to the belief that the world makes sense? Why do research findings peter out out after awhile? Discoveries often turn to sand, slip through our fingers, and are non-replicable. It is well known that man is a maker of narrative stories that help him explain to himself what transpires in this world. Reality may be benevolent or malevolent or disinterested or non existent. Belief in Free will and the soul/self are falling into disrepute. Time as we experience it is deemed a misperception. I recall one day in the peception lab in college suddenly envisioning science as the garden path that leads no- where except around the bend into the grave. Maybe that’s why we die so young; the garden path needs to accompany us to our grave. Should it run out prior to the grave, then the individual, robbed of his own carefully nursed narrative before the story’s ending sans comfort or without heaven–or without anything–might be troubled!
Don’t get upset. It’s not that I really believe this; I just don’t know what to believe.
Paleontologists search for reality under the soil, with shovels or trowels or screens with tiny holes. Reality in a frog’s world is limited to only creepy crawly serving portions. Freud’s fairy tales about women were full of hysterics. Everywhere I look examples proliferate.
Naturally our self image is at the mercy of our fairy tales. Don’t worry about me. I’m probably just being postpartum–I mean post-menopausal–I mean post-PTSD,
This photo is to show I’m not mean and quarrelsome all the time.
NANMYKEL.COM 