Mind Fields: An Insight Changed My Behavior

It 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.