humanity
Mental health is a fundamental right; the future of humanity depends on it.
My Monster
I dig my nails into my palms, deeper and deeper, making little crescent shapes. I push the tip of my tongue into the sharp tooth I like to use, it is dulled over the years, but it still helps. I try to breathe. Stop being such a spazz. It’s difficult though. The thoughts come faster and faster, all at once, creating a dull hum in my head like a hive of bees, slowly getting louder. It makes me want to bang my head right into the table. After a deep breath, I lick my lips, and glance around. I don’t think anyone has noticed us yet. Our disguises are working. I guess you don’t need to try as hard as I do though. I don’t want to say that you’re not real. I think that maybe you are, but I know that they can’t see you. Even I can’t always see you, but I can feel you. Your hand on my shoulder, your claws tapping away at my skin, digging in every now and then to make my body shudder.
By Holding Hands With Shadows5 years ago in Psyche
“Andoumboulou Vorfreude”
We are all an andoumboulou, a rough draft of humanity, a work in progress until our guaranteed demise. What we leave behind could be some of the joy that we had felt in our lives, even before we understood it to be joy, before we anticipated it to occur, our vorfreude.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Psyche
Shell Evacuation
Like most millennials, I have been (1) conditioned by my family to prioritize security and (2) conditioned by society to please myself only when it doesn't displease others. I have “Do NOT rock the boat” tattooed on the inside of my brain. This is an important backdrop to the events of Summer 2020, when my life, like many others’, was a flat line with very few bumps. My bumps were: applying to Counseling Psychology PhD programs and living with a domineering, incessantly social roommate.
By Laura Kastner5 years ago in Psyche
The Heroine's Journey
As many pivotal moments in life begin, it all started with a breakup. The end of a nine year relationship left me feeling naked in the world, exposed, joyless. I took my vulnerability, my nudity, my sadness, and a pair of scissors and turned it into a mission. A mission that would eventually become my monomyth of self discovery, of finding joy again. This is a tale of reclaiming and celebrating beauty in the world and myself. The heroine’s journey starts with a breakup and turns it into an opportunity to inspire, create, share, and learn with and through others. I called this opportunity Gold Bottle Project. The mission behind Gold Bottle Project was centered around Brene Brown’s theory that the path to a better society is collective sharing of the feelings we all encounter, universal human experiences, because these emotions remind us of our interconnectivity. In each Gold Bottle Project, there were two components: one visual and one written. Gold bottles were created in a variety of combinations of media, formatting, literature, and expressed cultural themes, ideas, theses, etc. Anyway, back to the heroine’s journey...
By Erin Lucas5 years ago in Psyche
Woody Allen’s Vision of Death
Because I could not stop for death — He kindly stopped for me — Emily Dickinson There are those who are dead set against death, those who accept it, those who pretend to bear it, and those who perceive it with an ironic inclination, for death is eminently imminent, terribly terrifying, the end of life, and most of all, extremely reliable. Woody Allen seems to adhere to all categories of people and their understandings of death. His vision of it is very often comically ambiguous, which seems to indicate that he is hiding or trying to hide his true feelings towards death. When this unavoidable reality, this final cut, appears as a joke for the sake of a laugh, or in some philosophical observation, one has to wonder about the real meaning of it all. “Death, sweet death! I await you with a smile,” said an anonymous poet. Allen, time and again, seems to say: Death, bitter death! Don’t bother with me! Unfortunately — fortunately for some — death always comes for us. Only, it is deplorable that it befalls us at times when we least expect it to, or when we yet don’t really want it to. What can we do? C’est la vie. The saying “In God we trust” should read: In death we trust. I think it is time to begin probing Allen’s works for death signals.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Psyche
Finding comfort in my garden
I'm overly anxious most of the time. I grew up in New York, then moved to Florida for college and stayed there for 19 years. Life was crazy with college, then a career, the trials and tribulations of finding love, and much more. After I met my husband, married and gave birth to our 2 beautiful daughters, my husband got a job in Colorado. Off we went with dreams of mountains, humidity-free weather, and for me... being able to finally grow a garden.
By Josephine Mae5 years ago in Psyche
Impressions of Death
All trials are trials for one’s life, just as all sentences are sentences of death. Oscar Wilde It has been said that psychology has a long past but a short history. When it comes to death, its history is short indeed. Although death has been occupying the human mind in numerous fields for many centuries, psychology only began to seriously explore it in the past few decades. While Freud gave death a prominent place in the spectrum of drives and anxieties, most psychologists chose, perhaps unconsciously, to disregard it. Death only entered mainstream psychology when the study of adulthood started to give notice to the elderly and gerontology was born. The idea of death has somewhat developed psychologically, but it seems to be stuck in its latent stage.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Psyche
Consciousness Bound
We tend to regard ourselves, most of us, that is, as the species par excellence. Everything was created by God, so many of us believe, and this greatest being conceivable designed us to be special. It gave each one of us a brain that could think of itself and of myriad other things in extraordinary ways. Apparently, other animals were not awarded with such phenomenal aptitudes. We were the chosen ones, capable of practically infinite development that would lead us back to our Creator. But these brains inside our heads had to be more than just a mixture of organic substances. Thought and all that it entails had to originate from somewhere immaterial, a place where our consciousness could be relatively tranquil, away from the strains of existence. We therefore determined quite intuitively that our brains were separate from our minds. Dualism in terms of body and mind was widely adopted until the timely advent of brains like Hobbes, Darwin, Crick, and Dennett, just to name a few.
By Patrick M. Ohana5 years ago in Psyche
Vices
A fierce hurricane trapped two writers within the confines of a cabin in the middle of the woods. What was meant to be a weekend retreat spiraled into seven days of Hell. The rains have yet to cease. The winds howled while the thunder pounded the walls of their feeble sanctuary. Productivity wasn’t even an option, deadlines weren’t the slightest thought.
By Vincent Cotroneo5 years ago in Psyche
