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My delightful imaginary world.
Jim Broede
Posted: Tuesday, February 10, 2015 6:45 PM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


I'd quit worrying. If I knew. For certain. That I would live forever. As a conscious, thinking being. My difficulty. Is coping with a sense of my mortality. That one of these days. I will no longer be. I'm at my temporary worry-free best. When I forget. That I'm going to die. The certainty of death means I have only a limited time. To get things right. If I had forever. I could take my time. Of course, I dream of forever. Under a variety of fanciful scenarios. Including survival in another dimension. Other than physical. Yes, all sorts of spiritual possibilities. It's my form of psychotherapy. I create delightful imaginary worlds. --Jim
Jim Broede
Posted: Saturday, May 9, 2015 1:12 PM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


Really, nothing wrong with living in an imaginary world. As long as it's a happy one. Don't know for certain if my long stays in Paradise are imagined or real. But they seem real. So it really doesn't matter. Unfortunately, I have a friend or two or three living in hell. Or so they tell me. But I suspect that with a psychotherapy session (from me) they could easily find their way to Paradise. Another thing. I don't charge a fee. I ploy my trade for free. --Jim
Jim Broede
Posted: Saturday, September 19, 2015 5:27 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


Maybe that's why I fell in love. With writing. While I was still a youngster. It gave me the opportunity to create imaginary worlds. Early on, it was funny worlds. That made me and others laugh. My teachers. In junior high. Had me read my stuff. Aloud. In class. And my cohorts (other students) laughed. I made up mystery stories, too. They were always funny. Never serious. I discovered irony, too. Without really knowing it was irony. I don't consider myself a serious writer. Or a talented writer. Just an ordinary writer. Unafraid to experiment. To take chances. Risks. Maybe that's what has made me a romantic idealist, a spiritual free-thinker, a political liberal, a lover, a dreamer. It comes naturally. That's what I encourage others to be. Their natural selves. --Jim
Jim Broede
Posted: Friday, September 25, 2015 8:02 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


I love being. Because that gives me opportunity. To be alive. And conscious. In so many ways. To grasp my own reality. To link myself to all sorts of worlds. Real and imagined. Sometimes, I don't know the difference. Which ain't all bad. I imagine being a spirit. Free of my physical shackles. Occasionally, I feel free. Maybe that's all it takes. Feeling. That one has entered a dream world. Paradise. Sometimes, it's momentary. Other times, it's more lasting. Sometimes, I try to write about it. Which makes me feel immersed. In good and pleasant vibes. Amazing. The discovery of one's self. Life becomes my voyage of discovery. --Jim
Myrrh
Posted: Tuesday, October 6, 2015 4:08 PM
Joined: 10/6/2015
Posts: 8


Yes, the words make them real--all those shadowy landscapes--those 'almost' places that have at their core a luminosity that dulls our normal existance making it so temporary and small... or bringing it at last into being... I don't know which. I go through my day hardly able to function, having to lay down so many dreams... yet if I can only catch a few words... 'true' words that come from really seeing... then, like keys to some hidden realm, they open a sort of magical portal, and my movement through time slips away from me like leaves in the fall crumbling and turning to dust, and the brilliance that remains propells me into the eternal. If this is all that's left to me, then it will be enough.
Jim Broede
Posted: Wednesday, October 7, 2015 7:30 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


I admire and respect you, Myrrh, for accepting your fate. By learning to cope. The best you can. With dementia. You made a wise choice. In coming to musings. Where you will be treated with good vibes and understanding. --Jim
Jim Broede
Posted: Thursday, October 15, 2015 12:19 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


Maybe I am living in a virtual reality. In which the people in my life aren't real. Merely figments of my imagination. Yes, maybe the entire world ain't real. Could be that I'm not real. That I'm no more than a character in a dream. Of course, I feel genuinely real and alive. A living and conscious being. Maybe that's the way I'm supposed to feel. In a virtual reality world. Maybe I'm a spirit. And this is a virtual reality game. That I'm playing. For the pleasure of feeling physical. --Jim
Jim Broede
Posted: Tuesday, November 3, 2015 10:37 PM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


Traumatic experiences. I've had my share. In my 80 years of living. A friend tells me, that some of my trauma should be treated. In professional psychotherapy. For my own good.  To better understand. How traumatic events have affected my life.  Maybe in negative and detrimental ways.  Without me being fully aware of it. I have nothing against seeing a psychiatrist. But I'm my own best psychotherapist. May sound like bragging. But I've always found ways to effectively deal with trauma. Even as a youngster. I'm able to elevate and  distance myself from trauma.  And see it all. In an objective manner. Turning the experience into a positive thing. The friend surmised that my father's suicide, when I was 13, must have been difficult to cope with, psychologically. Yes, it was. Initially. Until I concluded. That the suicide was a positive thing. For dad. For me. For the family. For everyone. As the years passed, I was able, more and more, to glamorize the suicide. As being the catalyst for much good. In my life. In my mother's life. In the lives of so very many people. And that, at the time, in 1949, it was my dad's best option. Perhaps even an act of courage. Yes. I would tell a psychiatrist. That's an example. Of how I typically deal with the trauma in my life. By glamorizing the long-term outcomes. --Jim
Jim Broede
Posted: Wednesday, November 4, 2015 9:49 PM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


When my dear sweet wife Jeanne became Alzheimer-riddled. Maybe that qualifies as the most traumatic event of my life. Fortunately, I learned to deal with it. So did Jeanne. But it wasn't easy. It was a struggle. For much of the 13-year sojourn. Initially, I was in denial. Persuading myself. That Jeanne was misdiagnosed. But I learned to accept the verdict. And the inevitable. A steady decline in Jeanne's condition.  Took me several years. To learn to make the best of the situation. Being a 24/7 care-giver was the hardest. But I adapted. Adjusted. During the last 38 months of Jeanne's life I became an 8-10 hour a day care-giver. Supplementing Jeanne's care at a nursing home. Never missed a day. As Jeanne's advocate and protector. Gave her special attention and care. Daily outdoor romps in a custom-built wheelchair. Showers. Every night. Just before bedtime.  Hand-fed meals in the pleasant privacy of her room. A daily dose of good vibes therapy. In all sorts of imaginative ways. Care-giving became a fulfilling and loving pleasure. The most gratifying experience of my life.  What started out as a devastating trauma, turned out to be a love feast. Helped to make me a better human being. Yes, the Alzheimer's experience became a blessing.  No longer trauma. --Jim
Jim Broede
Posted: Thursday, November 5, 2015 11:00 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


My dear friend Julie. She's an interesting case. Possibly because she's had so very much trauma in her life. Or so I suspect. I've been personally lucky. Because my traumas have been well-spaced. And I've been able to deal with them. One at a time. And thereby turn traumatic experiences into blessings. Julie, meanwhile, has been deluged with trauma. Virtually non-stop. Since childhood.  Yes. Yes. That's it. Julie has to learn to cope with a bevy of accumulated traumas. Stuff she's ignored. For far too long. Little wonder. That Julie spends more time in depression. Than out. Little wonder. That Julie hardly ever gets through a day without her primary fix. Wine. Wine. And more wine. Julie is sick. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. She recognizes it. But not quite enough. To seek help. To check in. For sustained treatment. Julie's diseases are treatable.  But in America, we allow people the free choice. To be or not to be. And Julie chooses not to be well. Not to be happy. --Jim
Jim Broede
Posted: Friday, November 6, 2015 7:31 AM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


After years and years as a care-giver. For her Alzheimer-riddled parents. Dear friend Julie. Has an amazing opportunity. To become a better human being. For the experience. Instead, Julie has become a mental and emotional and physical wreck. Fighting a losing battle against depression and alcoholism. Sad. Because. Unlike Alzheimer’s. There are effective treatments. For Julie’s maladies. Often leading to recovery. But Julie steadfastly refuses to go in for treatment.  To volunteer for readily available help. Indeed, an ironic situation. Julie instinctively and devotedly knew how to help others in peril. But not herself. Now she’s drained. Out of emotional stamina. Out of the wherewithal that it takes.  To put her life back together again. Of course. I argue daily.  That we sideline observers. Husband Rick. And multiple dear friends. Could intervene. And force Julie into treatment. But we don’t. Because of an odd mistaken notion. That the impetus must come entirely from Julie. Yes, it’s un-American to force Julie into treatment. Takes away her freedom. To do as she pleases. Personally, I’m sick and tired of the asinine American way. Give me a break. Give me common sense. A way to save Julie. From herself. -- Jim
Jim Broede
Posted: Friday, November 6, 2015 3:47 PM
Joined: 12/22/2011
Posts: 5462


I wonder. If god/creator is merely a concept. An idea. A state  of mind. At best, a creation of one's fertile imagination. Perhaps no more or no less than a spirit. Exactly what I want to become. By shedding my physical being. Yet remaining fully alive and conscious.  Living on the same plane as my imagined god/creator. Is that too much to ask? Certainly, it isn't blasphemy. To have such a thought. To evolve. Some day. Into the exact image of god/creator. As an equal. Achieving the highest form of life. Even if it's only imaginary. As long as I have the ability to make it feel real. The wherewithal to dupe myself. Into believing any and every thing. --Jim