Archive for the OCD Category

CSL Files 217, [2.03] After thought

Posted in Cabo San Lucas, Celebrations, Depression, Grief, Living, Lulu Island, Music, OCD, Pain, Richmond, The Path with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on February 14, 2010 by Erikakw

“They say the Irish are head strong. But I prefer to say heart strong. I’ve never been to Ireland but my name, Maude-Regan is pure Irish! I figure that is why I always have little ditties playing in my head that I want to rhyme together into lyrics because I can hear music playing buried deep inside from ancestors past. I think there is physical genetic rendering, music is in the Irish”

My after thought is: music and love go together they are of the same substance. That’s why people fall in deeper love when they remember a song connected to a particular memory of meeting a special someone. You may fall in love with a person, fall in love with your work, or the geography and culture of where you live.

In studying physics I have come to understand the most important thing is to embrace contradiction and chaos. Since we would rather move away from c & c like a magnet in the opposite direction the interesting thing is, if we pay close attention—we are drawn back to the thing we are moving away from.

“Know that I’m not talking about erotic, romantic love but the substance, the matter in you and me that keeps us living and taking breaths everyday that drives you like an olympic athlete to the gold

When I came home from Cabo San Lucas I began to notice fear and anxiety loosening its hold on me. I accepted my perceived failures with new found delight and recycled all the past with the present to make something new

I guess that’s what love can do turn things old to new”

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Post 200 ~ 19 years of smiles

Posted in Children, OCD, Youth with tags , , , , , , , , on January 21, 2010 by Erikakw

at the end of a long chapter its funny how all the good rises to the surface in the wake of my Joshua turning 19 it seems and feels like more than a page has turned

you are the consummate mr smiley jkothephotoguy

who likes all things different you watch clouds wait for the clearing and then mark your time by reciting scripts from movies repeating words and choruses and printing in your cryptic way

so many years ago now you came along yet before you were born I gave you back to G-d, to the universe while I was sitting at the North Shore Studios in North Vancouver I would take two buses and a sea bus every day and you would be my companion hidden away

this day you are handsome tall and all smile Im remembering that you love dragonflies enchanted by bees and eggs to boot then all of a sudden you started to collect loot there were times of exhaustion times where I along with you we near you thought we would lose our minds and our selves all together we did not know how to live the autistic way so we molded ourselves to you and you to us and somehow we worked it all out with many people too many to mention in this post

slowly and faster you began to grow now you are the life of the party always have been as you have interpreted the world through a lens so fine in a zone that none of us have known yet we struggle to own our life that would not be as good as yours without you in ours

in between the folds pressure mounts try to fit the pieces of a life all together strain to learn the way to go let you learn in the moment and relearn how to do absolutely everything from scratch until it becomes a script then you memorize the steps the way forward in your innocent gentle way with a slice of sneaky pesky abilities amidst the disabilities you are not shy or sly but earnest and good—looking for all things yellow or white hoping to find at Garry a kite a bird a boat or plane

this is you of jko fame…..

Triple D

Posted in 21st century, Chronos, Depression, Kairos, Living, OCD, quotidian, Steveston, Story with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 2, 2009 by Erikakw

not DQ dessert not sweet nor fruity

not Purdy’s dark orange liqueur nor Japanese brandy early

neither here or either there

still empty soundless white grey space

for acedia’s depression becomes obsession

without a face we lose our place

on our knees in the deepest darkest dungeon

enter into the labyrinth of despair

circling wildly hopelessly in prayer

crying and speaking that we might be heard

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