Lately, I wrote some prose/poetry (not exactly sure what you would call it) inspired by a quote from probably the most well known and cited author on Bipolar, Kay Redfield Jamison. The book is called Touched With Fire, and it looks at the overlap between artist temperament and psychopathology (mental illness.) Here’s the quote then my work is below it:
“We have seen that the creative act always involves a regression to earlier, more primitive levels in the mental hierarchy, while other processes continue simultaneously on the rational surface—a condition that reminds one of a skin-diver with a breathing-tube. (Needless to say, the exercise has its dangers: skin-divers are prone to fall victims to the ‘rapture of the deep’ and tear their breathing-tubes off—the reculer sans sauter of William Blake and so many others….) The capacity to regress, more or less at will, to the games of the underground, without losing contact with the surface, seems to be the essence of the poetic, and of any other form of creativity.” – from Touched With Fire by Kay Redfield Jamison
Became pain to create. Lost, fell way to the floor of the ocean dark depths cracks lasted so long but now gone rose raised came back up to the surface deep breath gasp breech the glass waves regain the deranged senses lenses cleansed.. oh no it’s all bad I’ve done so much wrong wait none not all bad reframe some good some great ride the spiral through the next cycle live die resurrect natural pattern divinely inspired cut the wires held up by smoke touched with fire bolts of voltage so strong can’t handle it alone thank god for holding me cosmic dust bursting at the seams spirituality and dreams energy so extreme screaming thoughts so loud can’t hear reality.
Calm peace within a storm waters wakes placid lake cool breeze beach daze feel the tides hydrate cells membrane divide breath expands contracts sun warms bright simply alive inside mind drifts with the crests of the waves way away places no traces pristine peace leaves gently clean air crisp brisk quickens the heartbeat streams rivers run beneath skin seen blue as the sky high above gesthemane garden olive press lessened with divine weightless fabric assistance… singed but slighlty more trancended.