Mind Fields: This Is How I Think
Posted: March 17, 2025 Filed under: essays, Mental Health, Mind Fields, Opinion, Self-Help | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read 1 Comment
I have a bit of a crush on a woman. It’s harmless. I don’t plan to do anything about this crush. I have everything I need. We are colleagues in a psychotherapy group and some strange osmosis took place. We connected briefly. We shared one another’s status vis a vis relationships. Neither of us is “available”. For about a week I convinced myself that she was thinking about me. I sent a couple of emails that I now regret sending. I had the conceit that she was as enmeshed with me as I was enmeshed with her. I now ask myself this question: what made me think that I was important in this woman’s life?
I look at my own grandiosity. I thought it was banished from my psyche, but…uh oh…here it is again in a new form. Self-importance is not attractive. There are NO important people. Anywhere. If you think otherwise you haven’t grasped the sheer SCALE of existence. Consciousness is important because that’s what everything IS. The relative importance of a human being within the structure of consciousness is a passing conceit.
The grandeur, wisdom and compassion of the Highest Power is far far beyond our grasp. It is utterly inclusive and envelopes everything in the physical world, the soul world, the spirit world, in all the worlds. I use the word “world” as a metaphor for certain structures in the Realm of Everything. If this is a difficult concept, just imagine an onion made from layers of thought. The core of this onion resembles a stellar object, such as a Black hole. This Realm subsumes the Permanent and the Impermanent as complimentary aspects of The One Truth….or whatever you want to call it.
It’s refreshing to drop this facade of self-importance. I’ve got an ego. It’s pretty tattered and irrelevant at this point but it still holds sway in my psyche. I want to be admired, respected, loved, and I want, especially, to be understood. I also want to have the resources to return this regard with affection. I have not always been a warm person. This is an ability to connect with people in a way that is safe for everyone. Let’s just say that I’m getting there.
I have too much invested in my appearance. I’m in love with my own face. That isn’t always a bad thing. I am confident in my identity but I still have psychological problems. I hope to minimize my propensity for delusions, obsessions and over-excitement. I simply accept my problems as integral to my life’s narrative.
I can’t put it more succinctly than this: today I hope to be less ignorant and stupid than I was yesterday.
About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award.
Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
_______________________________________
Did you know you can sponsor your favorite blog series or even a single post with an advertisement for your book? Stop by the WtbR Sponsor Page and let me advertise your book, or you can make a donation to Writing to be Read for as little as a cup of coffee, If you’d like to show your support for this author and WordCrafter Press.
________________________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Mind Fields: The Air In The Sky
Posted: November 29, 2024 Filed under: Mind Fields, Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Mind Fields, Poetry, Writing to be Read 1 Comment
May 23, 2020
All night the distant roar of the highway
augments the silence
wrapped around the house.
There is no wind. The Mimosa hang still.
Trucks chatter half mile away crossing speed bumps.
Sound of a jet fading above low clouds.
My belly is full.
My feet sink into the carpet.
I wear only a torn t-shirt.
My bare legs are slightly bowed
but shapely.
I am old and strong. My pains avoid me.
We have a treaty signed
by the doctor.
______________________________
About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
________________________________
Did you know you can sponsor your favorite blog series or even a single post with an advertisement for your book? Stop by the WtbR Sponsor Page and let me advertise your book, or you can make a donation to Writing to be Read for as little as a cup of coffee, If you’d like to show your support for this author and WordCrafter Press.
_______________________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Mind Fields: How To Find Peace
Posted: October 30, 2024 Filed under: Mind Fields, Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Mind Fields, Poetry, Writing to be Read 5 CommentsI haven’t found peace.
I don’t own peace,
rent peace,
buy or sell peace,
though I do encounter peace
from time to time.
Peace is like a friend
who comes for a surprise visit.
As my life takes on a shape
in which peace feels comfortable
I see peace more often.
Peace is not easily found in this world.
Peace comes like an accident,
a good mishap.
Peace lands in my heart like
a bird that’s raised its young
and is looking for a new place to nest.
I thought I would know peace by now,
but it’s taking longer than I expected.
The biggest problem is my mind.
It’s like a bag turned inside out, its contents
are the world, spilled and crazy.
Peace is not comfortable
in the world. When I’m with peace, I feel as though I’ve brought a guest
to the kind of party
that’s broken up by the cops after midnight.
I need to make peace more welcome here.
I should send peace an invitation, find a good solid tree
where peace can perch and sing
before taking flight
to a more worthy destination.
__________________________________________________
About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
_______________________________________
Did you know you can sponsor your favorite blog series or even a single post with an advertisement for your book? Stop by the WtbR Sponsor Page and let me advertise your book, or you can make a donation to Writing to be Read for as little as a cup of coffee, If you’d like to show your support for this author and WordCrafter Press.
______________________________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Mind Fields: Bloodbath
Posted: August 30, 2024 Filed under: Commentary, essays, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Commentary, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read Leave a commentBloodbath
This century will be a bloodbath.
Our planet is stressed beyond endurance.
The Earth is intelligent. The universe knows what we are, even when we don’t know. Given the power of this Intelligence, I trust it to decide the fate of many nations. Too many people live on this planet, choking it with the ash of man made volcanoes. Our fate approaches; it will be dark before its transformation. Billions will die in the next century.
Earthquake, flood, all kinds of disasters are already triggered by the greed of industry and the complacent raping of forests and farms. I am afraid. I’m not afraid for myself. I’m old, I’ve lived my life. What about my kids, my grandkids? They will suffer and adapt. I hope this is so.
As the Great Dying unravels across the planet, conditions will change quickly. Already the pace of change makes me dizzy. I feel the misery of the Turkish earthquake, the misery of hapless Syrians who did nothing but oppose a tyrant and lost their rebellion. People die all the time. People die in huge numbers once a while. Wars cause death on massive scales. We are seeing these wars arise from the minds of ignorant men who think they can dominate by force. The bloodbath is upon us and it will only intensify in the coming years.
______________________________________
About Arthur Rosch
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
________________
Want to be sure not to miss any of Arthur’s “Mind Fields” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you find it interesting or just entertaining, please share.
________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Mind Fields: Being In Love
Posted: July 31, 2024 Filed under: Mind Fields, Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Love, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read 3 CommentsBeing in Love
I feel as if I could look at you forever
I could hear your voice whose quiet soothes
the roaring waterfall inside me.
Your eyes flood onto your face
like the Nile’s release of the fertile season.
The boatmen sing a love song,
a forlorn and yearning call
as the sun dips below
the water and the trees
reflect a blinding moment
when the light overcomes everything.
_____________________________________
About the Author
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
___________________________________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Mind Fields: “Losing a Job: Being Scared Shitless”
Posted: June 21, 2024 Filed under: Mind Fields | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Creative Life, essay, Mind Fields, Writing to be Read 2 Commentsnote to my readers: I wrote this essay twelve years ago. I just re-discovered it. I should tell you that things have worked out okay.:
What made me decide during my teen years that I was going to devote my life to creating “art”? Music, poetry, prose, photography: if it was “art” I was going to do it and no one could stop me. My parents put me in a psychiatric ward for eight weeks. I emerged no less an artist. The medications I should have been taking had been hidden in my lower lip and spit out the window, drifting down five stories to land in a sodden mess of other spat-out medications at the back entrance to the hospital.
I didn’t see any choice in the matter. I was driven. I wouldn’t listen to my father’s imprecations to “find yourself a profession and do “art” on the side”.
What? Do “art” on the side? Jeez, what did he think I was? Some kind of dilettante? I was going to be immersed in music, writing, etc for my life, every day of my life, 24/7/365/80something.
That’s what I’ve done. I’ve arranged everything in my life to be an “artist”.
I use these quotation marks because at this stage of my life the words Art, Artist, Creative, etc have been so devalued that I feel like a complete fool. I can’t explain what I really am. I’m in late middle age and I’m still doing it. I fit the classic model of the “starving artist”, the impractical beatnik hipster free spirit who lives outside the mainstream and survives as a free lance everything.
I’ve had the perfect job for twenty six years. It’s a part time janitorial contract, about fifteen hours a week. When I combine that income with a couple other cleaning jobs, I’m an independent man with a subsistence income. That frees me to be the artist/musician and writer that I am. I really don’t know how to do anything else.
I create. I do the cleaning job on my own time, no one pressures me, it’s physical work and my mind can wander through my artistic universe while I sweep and scrub.
When the property owner died this perfect job died with him. The new management gave me thirty days notice. I got the letter yesterday. The landlord is hiring a slick professional firm of janitorial shysters who hire Latino workers, put them in blue uniforms, pay them minimum wage and pocket the rest.
You know the kind of sickening gut-storm that happens when you find out your lover’s been cheating? You know that feeling?
I feel like that. A nice chunk of income worth $1100 a month has suddenly vanished. It was my largest contract. I don’t know how I’ll pay my rent, care for my wife, keep the internet broadband connected. I still have some work. Just a bit. I’m 64 years old. My feet are in chronic pain. I’ve never worked for anyone else.
I’ve had enough experiences in my life to understand that one of the most basic structures of existence is this: death and resurrection. Getting fired is a death. I await the new blossoming.
I’ve been going through years of heartbreak. I’ll be honest. No one wants to read about my pain; there’s enough pain. Who needs some obscure writer to dump more pain?
I think I’m a special writer but show me a writer who doesn’t think he or she is special. Writing is a landscape of self delusion, fantasy, hope burning, guttering, rejection gathering, courage failing. This is a tough time for writers. There’s a zillion grandiose twenty five year old English Lit and MFA graduates who want to hit the Great Harry Potter Roulette Wheel.
I’m scared shitless. I’m old, I have a lot of unmarketable skills, my wife is disabled and my dogs are neurotic as Alaskan Armadillos. What am I going to do?
Here’s where the leap of faith enters the picture: It Will Come. I’ve been stuck in the most colossal rut for seven or eight years. I’ve been comfortable.
Comfort can be deadly to an artist. I’m going to have to ride it out. Already, I’ve applied for two writing jobs. Wouldn’t that be cool, actually being employed writing? I don’t need to adhere to my strict regime of “my work my work my work.”
I can do other people’s work. I can do it well. I’ve done it before. I was a ghost writer for six years for a celebrity photographer. My ghost written articles appeared in People Magazine, Teen Beat, National Enquirer, a host of tatty rags. I got paid by the hour. My boss was seventy five years old, and he was a tightwad!
I’m going to get less scared as the days pass. I know this has happened and that it will turn out okay. If it doesn’t turn out okay, that’s going to be a drag.
What’s the worst that can happen? I always ask this question when things are rough. The answer: the worst that can happen is that I can suffer horribly for a long time, intimately observe my mind disintegrating, and then die alone in a ditch.
So, if that’s the worst that can happen, what am I worried about?
______________________________________________
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
____________________________________________
Want to be sure not to miss any of Arthur’s “Mind Fields” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you find it interesting or just entertaining, please share.
_____________________________________________
This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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Mind Fields: Tibetan Dance Steps
Posted: May 3, 2024 Filed under: Mind Fields, Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Mind Fields, Poetry, Writing to be Read 1 CommentTibetan Dance Steps
After reaching enlightenment,
Milarepa dusted off his chuba and stood up.
His first three steps
burned footprints
into the rocks of his shelter
so that today
pilgrims bow to these relics as holy icons.
The yogi’s steps were fired in the kiln
of his deep understanding. A thousand
years have passed and his footprints remain
sunk into the bare granite.
____________________________________
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
__________________________________________
Want to be sure not to miss any of Arthur’s “Mind Fields” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you find it interesting or just entertaining, please share.
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Mind Fields: December 7
Posted: April 26, 2024 Filed under: Mind Fields, Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Mind Fields, Poetry, Writing to be Read 1 Comment
December 7
All experience is in you.
All suffering, all joy, all confusion,
all presence, all absence
is in you.
If I make a mis-step, you catch me.
If I can’t feel you catch me,
I fall and fall, and eventually I will
come to know
that I have fallen into you.
If I rise to a great height
and see my glory,
I will be standing in my own shadow,
for you are behind me.
If I feel alone, and yearn
for something until the pit of my stomach aches
with incompleteness,
you have meant for me to know that.
I am only where I am, watching, waiting
to be born, to live, to die,
to feel you with me, so certain am I
that you are everything.
_______________________________________
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
_________________________________________________
Want to be sure not to miss any of Arthur’s “Mind Fields” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you find it interesting or just entertaining, please share.
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Mind Fields: Poetry Space Ship
Posted: March 29, 2024 Filed under: Mind Fields, Poetry | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Mind Fields, Poetry, Writing to be Read 3 CommentsSilly Humans
Feb 2022
We are so silly: humans. Show a man
a little cleavage, nothing but a teeny crevice
between a woman’s breasts, squeezed
beneath a garment. An inch of divide and all hungry eyes
go to that crease, as if it had the answers
to every riddle but one: why are we so silly?
Is it the mother-drive, so vast and potent
is it social conditioning, appetite fed by hints
of sex promise? Cleavage is immodest to some
but envied by others. It seems silly
at my age but it wasn’t silly to me twenty years ago.
Piano Lessons
I have ten fingers.
The piano has…really…
twelve notes plus octaves therefrom.
I tell my fingers
each day
“land somewhere new. Somewhere
you’ve never been. If it sounds good
then lead me forward. IF it does not.
We go again.
Ten fingers. Twelve notes and octaves.
Fingers: spread yourselves newly. Knuckle middle finger
rise a bit. Good.
Now…listen. OK?
send five left fingers to the lowest octave
teach them where they belong
repeat the patterns repeat the patterns
bring the fingers back up
then throw them like dice
at the keyboard let them fly
repeat the patterns again
repeat the patterns: over time
my fingers know things, acquire sense and pitch
before my ears know
before my brain knows
my fingers know.
And, strange as it may sound, always listen to your fingers.
Ukraine
It is one thing to think
“aw fuck, not again.”
Then it’s another thing to do
nothing, from a sense of overwhelm
at the misery of the world. Many of these miseries
were created by human beings. They are capable of un-creating them but that would take a lot of work. Humans have
a streak of lazy when it comes to inquiry about themselves.
One can say “My bad”
as if that dismisses responsibility. I’ve been bad
but it’s over. That is not enough. You can’t say “My good”
but you’ve got to do “my good”,
you must keep making beautiful things in the face of ignorance.
Help other people with small daily tasks.
Use everything you’ve got
because in the face of this calamity,
it’s not going to be enough.
It’s just a motive to keep working so that,
some day,
it will be enough.
About the Author
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
___________________________________________________________
A lifetime of poetry and photography gives a unique view of life, nature, the world, and the universe.
Purchase Link: https://books2read.com/u/bPXpoA
_________________________________________
Want to be sure not to miss any of Arthur’s “Mind Fields” segments? Subscribe to Writing to be Read for e-mail notifications whenever new content is posted or follow WtbR on WordPress. If you find it interesting or just entertaining, please share.
Mind Fields: An Insight Changed My Behavior
Posted: September 27, 2024 | Author: artrosch | Filed under: Commentary, essays, Mind Fields, Relationships, Self-Discovery | Tags: Arthur Rosch, Mind Fields, Relationships, Relection, Self-Discovery, Writing to be Read | 1 CommentIt began with an insight. I discovered a huge bank of fantasy within myself: fantasy about women, about meeting THE woman, a mythical anima character whom I summoned with all of my available emotions. I had been holding on to this fantasy for decades. It was the default position of my libido and my romantic longings. “Some day I’ll meet her,” I thought; and I thought and I thought, again and again this vision conquered me. There was nothing I could do but continue hoping. Never mind that I had a long standing partner. That relationship wasn’t meeting what I perceived as my “needs”.
Then, an understanding came: you’re seventy six years old, I told myself. Maybe you’re never going to meet her. Use your future wisely. Maybe your needs aren’t so important as you think.
When I let that thought come into focus, I felt as if a huge bag of cement was pouring from my chest. As it descended into nowhere. I felt grief and sadness, a truly visceral chest-hugging loss. I had depended upon that thought structure to keep me going; it was a motivator. It caused me to flirt endlessly, if futilely, and to keep my gaze swiveling from one woman to the next. I didn’t know how to behave without this internal force, without this lodestar of romantic dreaming.
Okay. Life. Without that fantasy. Whoosh! Begin the emotional tornado.
I have a partner. I’ve been with her for twenty five years. She’s quite disabled, but we do well together. There’s no erotic energy between us. I miss it, but she’s way more important than Eros. We help one another age and survive. I find great justice in the fact that I am a caregiver. In my earlier life I couldn’t even take care of myself. That situation left me homeless, alone and completely isolated.
I’m exploring aspects of my nature that I haven’t understood. It’s strange to encounter parts of myself that remain immature. “Really?” I ask myself. “You’re still thinking that, still DOING that?” It’s easy to hear the formula: grow up! It’s another thing to actually GROW UP and change one’s self. It’s difficult and it has taken guts I didn’t know I had.
Of course, my partner will always let me know when I fuck up.
I still doubt my courage and I pray for more.
I could say that it’s about Change, but It’s really about Connection and my desire to love and be loved more intimately, to forge deeper bonds with the people in my life. I don’t know how much time I have with these people. I don’t know if I can achieve that love with anyone, but I’m starting with myself. If I have any bits of character strength in my nature, they have been acquired through a lot of effort. I’m proud of that effort, proud of that achievement. I am also capable of viewing myself with contempt. There have been times when I have completely fallen apart. I have learned gto live in reasonable balance with my self-destructiveness. I think it takes this kind of polarity to make a rounded person. In other words, if you knew half the shit that goes on inside me, you’d run. But then you would come back and ask me to tell a story.
I admit to living deep inside my narcissistic enclosure. I can’t get out of my own way. At least I know that about myself.
My emotional palette has expanded so that I am feeling new things that I had not previously dreamed of feeling. My former therapist would be ecstatic, as this seems to be a culmination of much of the work we did together. Almost all of this is love-feeling coming through my soul in many textures and colors. It is something like the docking of an immense ocean liner that carries feelings as its cargo. As an artist these feelings resonate so deeply inside me that I am moved into a new sphere of art; music, words, visions, images. My inner life has lit up like a cosmic dawn.
I am immensely grateful for the gift of humanity, empathy and self-knowledge.
I have faith (and that’s what it is. I don’t Know anything) in a Higher Intelligence. I feel a resonance with Sufi poets like Rumi and Kabir and musical mystics like John Coltrane. I am a person who prays. I pray almost constantly. It’s as if I have a God-Hatch in my head and it’s always emitting fiery sparks like a volcano.
I am aware of a human tendency towards self-delusion. Since I am a human being, I, too, am capable of fooling myself in ridiculous style. I hope to free myself from such errors in this life or the next, or the one after that. Or…maybe the one after that. Everything comes in its time. My spirit sits like a melon on the kitchen table, slowly ripening until its moment of maximum sweetness.
Postscript:
One of the most significant changes has been in the diminution of my personal compulsiveness. I’ve long known myself to be a compulsive or addictive personality. I endured severe food compulsions in my teen years and have long struggled with both bulimia and anorexia. In late life this morphed into bed time snacking that could get out of hand. It is with a degree of amazement that I find myself not interested in such activity. I don’t even have the munchies when I’m stoned. My body is changing along with the interior shifting of my thought processes. My tummy fat is disappearing. I’m not unhappy about this. It feeds my vanity, of which I am a proud owner of significant “amor propre” or self regard.
I am amazed. This is healing. I know the source of my addictions to be underlying depression, despair, loneliness and confusion. I’ve been working at THAT my whole life.
I seem to be getting somewhere. It’s about fucking time.
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About the Author
Arthur Rosch is a novelist, musician, photographer and poet. His works are funny, memorable and often compelling. One reviewer said “He’s wicked and feisty, but when he gets you by the guts, he never lets go.” Listeners to his music have compared him to Frank Zappa, Tom Waits, Randy Newman or Mose Allison. These comparisons are flattering but deceptive. Rosch is a stylist, a complete original. His material ranges from sly wit to gripping political commentary.
Arthur was born in the heart of Illinois and grew up in the western suburbs of St. Louis. In his teens he discovered his creative potential while hoping to please a girl. Though she left the scene, Arthur’s creativity stayed behind. In his early twenties he moved to San Francisco and took part in the thriving arts scene. His first literary sale was to Playboy Magazine. The piece went on to receive Playboy’s “Best Story of the Year” award. Arthur also has writing credits in Exquisite Corpse, Shutterbug, eDigital, and Cat Fancy Magazine. He has written five novels, a memoir and a large collection of poetry. His autobiographical novel, Confessions Of An Honest Man won the Honorable Mention award from Writer’s Digest in 2016.
More of his work can be found at www.artrosch.com
Photos at https://500px.com/p/artsdigiphoto?view=photos
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This segment of “Mind Fields” is sponsored by the Roberta Writes blog site, where you can find the poetry, photos, videos, and book reviews by Robbie Cheadle and so much more.
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