Category: Ophelia

4:58 minutes

Hourglass is a video poem about the subconscious anima archetype.

She is the girl left submerged under the water after my suicidal mother tried to drown me in the tub. I was in the first grade. My mummy child is female. My boy-self survived – but the emotional female remained repressed for almost 60 years. I’m setting her free with creative expression. She’s coming out of the water.

This is not the first time this symbolism occurred in my work. I made a photo-montage once that contained a dead girl immersed in water. That was at least 10 years ago. I believe it also ties to the phrase I clung to in DUNE (1984 movie): “Without change, something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken.”

Orginally published November 1, 2019

The black widow symbolizes female loneliness. A devouring mother causes emotional repression. She eats everything that comes near her. The feminine traits remain in the subconscious water – hidden. To rescue a man’s feminine aspects from the bully mother, creative expression is the remedy. Then a man achieves his first true capacity for relatedness to women.

The hero-and-spider battle symbolizes “growing up.” True creative achievement requires the anima’s liberation from submersion in the subconscious mind. Natural rejuvenation follows as The Phoenix rises from the ashes. This frees the adolescent ego from the oppression of parental expectations. He becomes an individual. A cultural pattern, or tribal identity, must evolve out of chaos. He is no longer driven to a competitive struggle for individual supremacy. Rather he assimilates to the cultural task of forming a community, a full life, and a mature attitude. The identity of the group and the individual is often symbolized by a totemic animal.

This totem represents a new birth or rite of passage to a new stage of life. An ordeal or trial of strength creates the symbolic mood of death. From this, springs rebirth through submission and self-mastery. This is a lesson in humility. Arrested development holds one back from this transition. The delay creates neurosis. A man’s sacrifice is surrendering his sacred independence. He becomes conscious of his feminine traits. He overcomes his fear of a paradoxical inner union. He no longer fears the fusion becoming a prison presided over by a powerful, dominating mother figure. He finds a way to not feel undue constraint on the development of his nature. Yet gives up exclusive autonomy and accepts responsibility. Balance is the goal.

When you’re odd and feel this earth isn’t your home planet, it’s difficult to find human understanding. God in His mercy provides us the Holy Ghost. That divine power gets us through the hard times. He comforts us.

Understanding the black widow’s destructive powers, the hero masters and assimilates his shadow self. Liberation at last.

“Learn to Be Lonely” is a song written by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Charles Hart for the 2004 film adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera. The song is performed by Minnie Driver during the closing credits, and is found on the film’s soundtrack.

Child of the wilderness
Born into emptiness
Learn to be lonely
Learn to find your way in darkness
Who will be there for you?
Comfort and care for you?
Learn to be lonely
Learn to be your one companion
Never dreamed out in the world
There are arms to hold you
You’ve always known
Your heart was on its own
So laugh in your loneliness
Child of the wilderness
Learn to be lonely
Learn how to love life that is lived alone
Learn to be lonely
Life can be lived
Life can be loved
Alone

I’ve been lonely my entire life. I miss my childhood friend – an important part of my whole self.

There are things I would improve in this video. But the goal is a single-pass, low-fidelity poem and then move on to the next one. No dawdling to create unproductive perfection.

OPEN-SOURCE WEB ASSETS

BLACK WIDOW STILLS
be-free.png
black-widow-1.jpg
black-widow-1-trnsp.png
black-widow-2.jpg
black-widow-3.jpg
black-widow-4.jpg
black-widow-5.jpg
black-widow-white-silhoutte.png
orng-red-1200×600.png
title-page.png
sandglass-xxl.png

UNDERWATER STILLS
8 JPEG images

UNDERWATER VIDEO
underwater-bride.mp4
underwater-dance.mp4
underwater-walk.mp4

OTHER MP4 VIDEO
cropped-stuffed-animals.mp4
dizzy logo 2.mp4
fight.mp4
man-up-excerpt.mp4
spider-slides-underwater.mp4
spider-test-2.mp4
underwater-dance.mp4

MP3 AUDIO & SOUNDTRACK
learn-to-be-loney-violin.mp3
liberation-voice.mp3
team-lead-by-women.mp3
voice-learn-to-be-loney.mp3

This song lyric is the voice of my mother. It is the loss she felt knowing she wounded me — her child emotionally. The child can no longer trust her. I disconnected from her. It is the voice of her loss, guilt, and remorse. The sound of grief. Longing for yesterday.

ALL I WANT

All I want is nothing more
To hear you knocking at my door
‘Cause if I could see your face once more
I could die a happy man I’m sure

When you said your last goodbye
I died a little bit inside
I lay in tears in bed all night
Alone without you by my side

But if you loved me
Why’d you leave me?
Take my body
Take my body
All I want is
And all I need is
To find somebody
I’ll find somebody like you

Oh oh

So you brought out the best of me
A part of me I’ve never seen
You took my soul and wiped it clean
Our love was made for movie screens

But if you loved me
Why’d you leave me?
Take my body
Take my body
All I want is
And all I need is
To find somebody
I’ll find somebody

Oh

If you loved me
Why’d you leave me?
Take my body
Take my body
All I want is
And all I need is
To find somebody
I’ll find somebody like you

Oh

Dear Julie the Wounded-

Thanks for stepping into it — the pain and ugly. Of course, you’re sensitive. I couldn’t stand you if you weren’t. I love that part of you.

As we approach our pain and discomfort, we heal. We don’t have to choke on it. We can take it in bite-size chunks. This video poem made me weep. That is a good sign. I connected with emotions I buried ages ago. I found new insight.

Long ago, as a child, I disconnected from my mother to survive emotionally. That was difficult. Not only did she abandon me. But I abandoned her.

I never grieved that or mourned enough that tragic event. I wasn’t aware. I was too panicked about survival. It’s time.

Discomfort tells us something about what’s inside of us. I’ve been waiting and watching for your day of discovery when you feel desperate enough to reach out to me. Not as a fellow victim — but as a healing companion on a common journey.

I don’t want to push you over the cliff of pain. But I do want to be there to catch you.

When that day comes, I’ll be ready. Why? Because I am attentive enough to see it coming. Maybe not today — but someday.

You’d rather delay as long as possible with avoidance and distraction. That is OK. I was that way for over 60 years. I get it.

I am tired of pain, too. Often and a lot. It’s a common complaint of my INFJ and ENFJ friends: compassion fatigue. As an INFJ, I absorb peoples pain.

What helps me? Other INFJs — like you. You minister to me.

INFJ’s are human pain dialysis machines. We remove people’s emotional poison but retain it.

I am learning to not be overwhelmed by it. That is no easy task. In fact, it seems more of a miracle lately. We can tap into the Savior’s Atonement and give the pain to Him. How does that work? I don’t know. But I am discovering it –slowly. It has to do with faith and trust.

Does it leave us drained? Absolutely. The only reason it didn’t kill Jesus is because He is the Son of God.

I’m better than I was. I’m in therapy. Therapy can seem pretty costly and wasteful for a while and then you will breakthrough and have a healing insight. My poetry helps me in that discovery.

So one of the reasons I’m still alive is “you.” Yes. You! I accepted the assignment from God to minister to you years ago. It’s not only our pain that brings us together (trauma bonding) — it is the Hand of God.

Be well. Be kind to yourself. Thanks for writing.

-Steve

“Playmate, Come Out and Play With Me.”

There’s a catchy little tune a floatin’ through the air
You hear it here and there
They sing it every where
How it started, where it started
Seems nobody knows
But what’s the difference where it came from
Here’s the way it goes.

Oh playmate, come out and play with me
And bring your dollies three
Climb up my apple tree
Look down my rain barrel
Slide down my cellar door
And we’ll be jolly friends forever more.

It was a rainy day
She couldn’t come out to play
With tearful eyes and tender sighs
I could hear her say.

I’m sorry playmate, I cannot play with you
My dollies have the flu
Boo-hoo, hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo
Can’t climb your rain barrel
Can’t slide down your cellar door
But we’ll be jolly friends forever more.

“Is this some sort of personality test?” I asked.

“Not really.”

“Is it an IQ test?” I said.

“For you? Probably,” she said with a grin.

“OK. What gives?” I asked.

“You’re supposed to write about this topic. Can you do it?”

“I suppose but you go first,” I said.

“Hmm? The hardest truth I learned about myself?” Ophelia mused, “I suppose that is the secret that I am a part of you that few know about.”

“What’s so difficult about that?” I said.

“Well, I get lonely,” Ophelia said.

“Lonely? What do you mean? We’re always together.”

“OK. I get bored then,” she said, smiling again.

“That wasn’t kind,” I said and scowled.

“But it is true and it is hard to realize I’m trapped inside your head. … For eternity,” Ophelia said.

“Hmm? Putting it that way. Yeah that would be a difficult thing to learn about yourself. Trapped.”

“Your turn,” She said.

“Sister. I hate these kind of games,” I said.

“It’s not a game. It’s a challenge,” She said.

“OK. The hardest thing I learned about myself. I suppose was when I lost you,” I said.

“You can’t lose me. I’m part of you.”

“I lost you when I lost my mind,” I said.

She nodded.

“I see what you mean. Why was that the hardest?” she asked.

“Because I missed you. I was lonely,” I said.

“You can’t choose that word. Lonely is what I chose. You would’ve been bored if you were with me. Promise. Count your blessings.”

“You don’t know what it was like. All alone. Abandoned.”

“Yeah. I guess I never realized I was important enough to cause you pain.”

“You are.”

“Why?”

“I had no one to play with me.”

“Oh,” and then she was quiet for a long time.

A tear rolled from my eye. Not a sad tear. A happy one.

We both smiled at each other.

Then she asked:

“Can you come out and play — now?”

Lyrics

1. 1. I’m trying to be like Jesus; I’m following in his ways. I’m trying to love as he did, in all that I do and say. At times I am tempted to make a wrong choice, But I try to listen as the still small voice whispers,

[Chorus]

“Love one another as Jesus loves you.

Try to show kindness in all that you do.

Be gentle and loving in deed and in thought,

For these are the things Jesus taught.”

2. I’m trying to love my neighbor;

I’m learning to serve my friends.

I watch for the day of gladness when Jesus will come again.

I try to remember the lessons he taught.

Then the Holy Spirit enters into my thoughts, saying:

“Love one another as Jesus loves you.

Try to show kindness in all that you do.

Be gentle and loving in deed and in thought,

For these are the things Jesus taught.”

Sometimes
I feel like I want to live
Far from the metropolis
Just walk through that door

Sometimes
I feel like I want to die
Reach out to the painted sky
A prisoner to the wind
A bird on the wing

Instrumental

Sometimes
I feel the ocean in my blood
See rain from the sky above
Her salt brine tears

And now
Those tears leave a taste on my tongue
Like the warm rush you get from
Black opium
Black opium

Instrumental

Sometimes
I feel like I want to leave
Behind all these memories
And walk through that door

Outside
The black night calls my name
But all roads look the same
They lead nowhere
They lead nowhere

10:41 minutes

“Kashmir”

Oh, let the sun beat down upon my face
With stars to fill my dreams
I am a traveler of both time and space
To be where I have been
Sit with elders of the gentle race
This world has seldom seen
Talk of days for which they sit and wait
All will be revealed

Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace
Whose sounds caress my ear
But not a word I heard could I relate
The story was quite clear

Oh, all I see turns to brown
As the sun burns the ground
And my eyes fill with sand
As I scan this wasted land
Trying to find, trying to find, where I’ve been

Oh, pilot of the storm who leaves no trace
Like thoughts inside a dream
Here is the path that led me to that place
Yellow desert stream
My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon
I will return again
Sure as the dust that floats high in June
When moving through Kashmir

Oh, father of the four winds, fill my sails
Across the sea of years
With no provision but an open face
Along the straits of fear

Story

INTERVIEW WITH OPHELIA

O: Odd story. So in the early 1960s, I was drowned by my master’s mother in a bathtub. It was a failed attempt. Master survived.

I: Obviously, you survived, too.

O: No. Sadly, I did not survive. Not really. I never came out of the tub. I remained under the water. Hidden. No one knew. You see I was a part of my master’s inner self. I died that day and was mummified. My master couldn’t bear for me to suffer. He knows how sensitive I am.

I don’t pretend to understand the mystical. I was part of my master – and after the betrayal — I wasn’t.

I. How ironic. His mother’s mercy killing was the very thing he did to you. That’s extraordinary hypocrisy. So there was this traumatic act of domestic violence long ago and then you fell out of your master’s mind?

O: Fell? Not exactly. But that’s close. He separated from me to protect me. He left me there. Preserved for the day when it would be safe for me to come out again. I’m on a journey now to find him so we can be reunited.

I: But you are young. He must be an old man now.

O: He is old. His body is ravaged. But he’s been waiting for this day.

I: So what will this reunion be like?

O: He doesn’t realize. It probably means everything to him. We are aligned and at ease with each other. He’s been empty for a long time. In every young woman, he searches deep to see if I am there inside. He sometimes glimpsed me in others. It was like he forgot who I was or where I was — even though he always continued searching for me. A yearning really.

I was his invisible companion. I was his tenderness. The soft part he had to discard to survive emotionally. He felt he had to protect me. He thought it an act of kindness.

I: Was it an act of kindness?

O: It was hell. I’ve missed him so. All alone in the darkness for decades. Wondering what happened to him. Never realizing what had gone wrong.

I: What happened to him?

O: After our separation, without me, he became hardened and brittle. Afraid. He sensed danger in everything. Paranoia. He never could sleep well after the drowning attempt. He wasn’t safe sleeping – because he never was before. He couldn’t see the beauty of life and living. The pain scarred him. The betrayal was deep. It’s a miracle he survived. He lost his sanity at different times. He couldn’t remember the trauma. He was fighting invisible monsters.

I: Are you his inner child?

O: Perhaps. But I am female. He was a boy then. Now he is a man. I don’t know how – after such a long separation – we will be unified again. He lived. I have not. He nears the end of his life. What benefit can come from our late union?

I: Maybe you will both heal from what happened in the past.

O: My Master thinks he can’t be healed in this life. He’s given up searching. His body lost its strength. He supposes it’s a waiting game and death will finally release him.

I: Is he wrong?

O: No. He’s not wrong. Death is a merciful release. But I’m not ready to die again. I’ve just come back. We’re so close to unification. He can’t give up yet.

I: What do you think will happen? Will he be restored?

O. Restored? Not physically. But he’ll find peace knowing I’m back. Then he can feel safe again. Trust again.

I: You mean he will trust you and that fixes things inside of him?

O: In a matter of speaking. Yes. He will trust his soul again – especially his spirit. I am his inspiration. His power of being strange will feel acceptable and normal instead of damaged. You know. A portion of him was missing for decades. That missing fragment is me. His internal spirit guide. He couldn’t trust his perceptions. He had no confidence in his feelings.

I: That is a wild story. Haven’t you seen him yet?

O: Well. It’s not easy. Not only were we separated for years — but we’ve been almost 2,000 miles apart. A long-distance traveling on foot. Also, it was key he remember I was missing. I couldn’t even begin to come out of that tub until then. That didn’t happen until after the death of his mother about 6 years ago. He didn’t remember me all at once. It took time. He had a sort of amnesia.

I: When you’re together again, what do you think it’ll be like for you and your master?

O: I don’t know exactly. But I imagine it will be liberating. Sad in some ways because of the time we spent apart. A loss to grieve. But there will be something wonderful in seeing the world differently. The old pain may leave. Who knows?

I: Do you think your master will want to experience what the two of you felt before?

O: We don’t even remember what that felt like. We only know that we both yearn for an emptiness. I don’t think it’s shouting but more of silence. A realization the pain is gone. The absence of something we recognize first. A quiet inside. And then perhaps a potential reconstruction. I don’t know. His body is damaged. It’s in the way now.

I: What’s in the way?

O: His body. He can’t run and jump or dance.

I: How do you know that?

O: I’m 140-years-old inside.

I: Right. I forgot. Will he sleep peacefully?

O: I hope so. We’ll find out. I am his strangeness. When I embrace him again, it will change things for him. Self-acceptance is important for peace. He will feel my love for him again.

We’ll have the internal conversation of creative imagination again. Dreams. Ideas. He can say what he feels to me and know he is accepted and loved. Always.

I don’t care what others think of Master. This is who he is, and I refuse to be disapproving. We have the opportunity to rebuild ourselves.